Page 46 of The Road Trip Romance

I pull it out, grateful it’s dry. It’s Cal.

I pick it up. “Cal?” I say loudly.

“Mom? What’s all that noise?” he asks.

“It’s raining. What’s up, sweetie?”

“Is Tate there? I have a question for him,” he says.

I roll my eyes and hand the phone to Tate. “It’s for you,” I say dryly.

“Hello?” Tate answers. He listens for a moment. I can’t really make out any words over the rain, but after a few seconds, he smiles. “Sure, buddy. I’d love that. We get back in a few days. I’ll try to make time before I leave or I can come back another time.”

He’s quiet for a few more seconds. “Sure thing. You want to talk to your mom?” He pauses. “Oh, OK. I’ll tell her. Oh, hey, Lizzie. Yes. We just saw a skunk. Yep. A real one. I know, right? Yeah, she’s here. Hold on.”

He hands me the phone grinning. I raise a curious eyebrow as I take the phone. “Lizzie?”

“Hey, Mom. How are you?” Lizzie asks.

“Good. How’s camp? How’s Dad’s?”

“It’s great. We miss you. Tate said you saw a skunk,” she says excitedly.

“That we did. I’ll tell you all about it when we get back in a few days,” I say. “It’s raining pretty hard, kiddo. Can I call you guys back tomorrow?”

“Sure. Have fun!” she says.

“Love you guys,” I add.

“Love you too, Mom,” Lizzie and Cal both yell into the phone before hanging up.

I place the phone back in my wet pocket and then pull it out and place it in a dry corner of the tent. I shiver as I realize how cold it is.

“Your kids are cute,” Tate states.

“I s-suppose s-so,” I stammer as I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm. “F-fucking P-Penn and h-his d-dumb ideas.”

Tate chuckles and begins to take off his wet shirt. Shit, why now? It’s bad enough I know how his lips and tongue feel on mine, but now I have to see him half naked again? Thanks, universe, for the continued torture.

“Come here. We need to stay warm,” Tate urges as he presses his body against mine, enveloping me in his warm embrace.

I shiver against his chest, his hands running up and down my drenched t-shirt.

“Soph, we need to get this wet shirt off you,” he says against my ear.

I tense. He hasn’t seen me naked like that. My white sports bra has got to be see-through at this moment. Ugh!

“I won’t look. I swear,” he promises as he starts pulling at the hem of the top. I hate that he’s right. I would rather accidentally lose my shirt in front of my neighbors than be here half naked against him. What is he going to think of my stretch marks and my saggy skin?

I begrudgingly hold up my arms and he pulls the shirt off. It lands with a wet thump on the tent floor as he presses me back to him. Then he pulls down his shorts and tosses them to the side. I feel his fingers against my shorts buttons. He fumbles as he undoes them, and they fall to the floor.

“Come on, under the sleeping bag,” he urges as he tugs me down, unzips the bag, and gets inside, helping me lie next to him before he throws the top back over us.

We lie there shivering against each other.

“What’s your earliest memory?” he asks, his hot breath warming the shell of my ear.

“What?” I ask confused as I crane my neck to look up at him.

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