Page 41 of When We Were Younger

After another minute of listening to her breathe, I gently shake her.

"No. No no no no no," she groans, wrapping her leg around me and burying her face further into my chest.

"Sweetheart, we have to get going."

"Going bad. Sleep good," she mutters, and I laugh. She's so fucking adorable.

"If you get up now, I'll buy you coffee and a donut from Miss Pattie's and then take you back to my place to sleep in my bed," I sing-song the last bit, gently tickling her sides. She giggles and wriggles, reluctantly rising from my body and stretching under the blanket. She reaches her hands over her head then immediately pulls them back, cupping her mouth and blowing.

"God, it's fucking cold out here," she huffs. I whip my hoodie over my head and hand it over to her. Shemust be freezing, because she doesn't fight me on it, just pulls the hoodie over her head and balls the sleeves up in her fists, covering her hands.

The sight immediately transports me back to high school and the days she'd refuse to wear a jacket to class because it would 'ruin her outfit', but would inevitably end up taking my jacket before first period and wearing it for the rest of the day. I would hem and haw, but I never cared. She always looked so adorable and even then, I lived to make her happy.

Now, with the Hudson Family Construction logo adorning her chest, I'm starting to get that whole thing where athletes want to see their partners in their jerseys. My name on Dorothea's body? It does something to me. Awakens something primal and feral deep within me. Makes me want to claim her and never let her go. I stand and lean over, hooking her under her arms and lifting her to her feet. She sways sleepily as I gather the blankets and shove them haphazardly back into the bag. When I'm finished, I offer her my arm, and she takes it. Joined at the elbows, we make our way to the tree line.

As I guide her through the brush, I remind her that we have to be extra quiet as we cross through my parent's yard.

"If we wake them up, we'll never hear the end of it," I say as I hold back a branch so she can cross through.

"They're not morning people anymore?" she asks.

"No, they are. I mean if they catch us together, we'relooking at the third-degree for the rest of our lives, so shhhh," I press my finger to her lips, and gives it the sweetest kiss. It's the smallest action, but it's enough to make me shiver. I'm tempted to throw her down and take her again, but when she looks to her right and waves, my lust is shot down with an arrow.

"Looks like we're in for the third-degree after all," she mutters out of the side of her mouth as she wiggles her fingers. I look over and sure enough, right there on the back porch are my parents, waving back at us.

And my dog.

And my sister.

And my sister's best friend, Ivy.

At this rate, my night with Dorothea is bound to be front page news in the Fox Hole Gazette.

I give her hand an apologetic squeeze.

"I owe you so much more than coffee and a donut," I say. I whistle, and Daisy May comes bouncing across the yard to meet us.

"Orgasms, Stephen. You owe me so many more orgasms."

And with that, she takes the first steps forward, boldly going where no woman except for her has gone before, right up to the Hudson firing squad.

"Dottie Lynn Hart, as I live and breathe," Dad says from his chair, sipping his Big Gulp-sized mug of black coffee.

"My, my, my," Mom says, standing and holding out her arms. Dorothea goes right into them, and Momswallows my girl up in the biggest hug I've ever seen. Delilah is next, tapping Mom's shoulder and cutting in on the hug. Dorothea squeezes my sister tight, and then the two of them pull back, holding each other's faces in that weird way that women do when they're greeting an old friend.

"What? No love for me?” Ivy asks from the side, and the girls let her in on the hug. They start to jump in a circle and squeal while I awkwardly tuck my hands into my pockets.

"What, uh, what are you all doing up so early?" I ask, directing my question to Dad. He seems like the safest option of them all.

"Better question, what were you doing sneaking around in my backyard at all hours of the night like some wayward teenager?" he asks, tapping his foot on the ground. I blush crimson, ready to deny and defend, until I remember I'm twenty-eight years old and allowed to whatever I want at any time of night, and he can't ground me.

At least, I think he can't ground me.

"Seriously, what is going on?" I push. "And how the hell did my pup get here?" As if on cue, Daisy May trots past me and joins the circle of hugging and squeaking women with a bark.

"Fabulous inventions, security cameras," Mom muses pointing a finger to the corner of the pergola, where a small white camera is docked. "This thing alerted us to some suspicious activity sometime aroundmidnight. I thought we were being burglarized, but lo and behold, it was just my grown child and his best friend. If it wasn't for your beard, I would have thought I time traveled right back to when you were sixteen."

"So naturally, Mom called me to gossip about you two and Ivy and I went to your place to grab Daisy May so we could ambush you on your walk of shame," Delilah says, as she offers a mug up to Dorothea. She takes the mug and sips, shivering when the coffee hits her. I swallow hard, remembering how she shivered as she rode me into oblivion just a few hours ago.

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