Page 17 of Hot for Her
5
Emersyn
Asmall, family-owned pizza place was the only one still open. Aiden pulled into Parker’s Pizza and told me to hang tight while he ran inside and picked up the order.
In a few short minutes, he returned shaking his head.
“It’s still going to be an hour or more for them to cook half a dozen pizzas. If Axel wasn’t already wasted, he would’ve thought to actually order ahead for me to come pick them up.”
I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “So what do you want to do?”
He pinned me with a dark look full of dirty promises while putting the key into the ignition. Something electrically charged passed between us. My pulse thrummed like hummingbird wings beneath my skin.
I inhaled deeply, determined not to be the first one to look away. I wasn’t.
Aiden started the Jeep and glanced at the clock in his dash. It was a few minutes after ten. “I don’t want to keep you out too late. You want me to run you home or you want to come to the convenient store with me?”
“I left my phone on the charger in your Airstream so…looks likes the convenient store it is.” Secretly I was relieved to have an excuse not to have to cut my time with him short.
A few minutes later we pulled up at a Quik Stop & Shop. The fluorescent lights were bright around the brick building, contrasting against the stark darkness. I followed him inside, realizing how strange it was to be out so late. I wondered if this was how regular teenagers felt. Wandering through town, in a convenient store, wearing someone else’s clothes in the middle of the night. It was odd to be so…free.
“I’ve got to grab a couple cases of beer for the guys,” he told me as the door chimed overhead. “You want anything?”
“Peanut butter M&Ms,” I said without thinking. “I’ll grab them.”
After I picked out my snack, I walked over to the cooler to help him carry the beer. Technically I wasn’t old enough, but the man at the counter looked like he couldn’t care less. He didn’t even look up from his phone when we came in.
We sat several cases of Coors Light bottles on the counter along with my M&Ms. After Aiden paid, I thanked him for my candy and carried a case out to the Jeep. He carried two of them like they were weightless and I lingered behind, appreciating the way his muscles flexed beneath his tight navy blue T-shirt.
After he’d put the beer in the back of the Jeep, he glanced toward the store. “I’ve got to grab one more thing. You want a soda or something?”
He looked kind of embarrassed. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was going back inside to buy condoms. He was in college after all. My stomach tilted like a carnival ride. “I’m good. But thank you.”
He grinned. “Okay. Be right back.”
I tore the corner off the pack of my M&Ms and ate a handful. Aiden returned shortly with a paper bag. He didn’t make any reference to the contents as we drove, so I didn’t pry.
The small town of Riverside passed in a blur of streetlights. I didn’t come here often but Drew and Camille said some of the cafes and boutiques were worth the drive. Because it was right on the water, it was quaint but touristy. In Elksboro we only had one gas station, one tiny diner, and out of towners never came through unless they were lost.
By the time we reached the pizza place, my M&Ms were gone and I had a mild sugar buzz.
Aiden pulled into the parking lot and checked the time again.
“We still have thirty minutes or so until the pizza is ready. Will you do something for me?’
My tummy performed another gymnastics routine. I folded my empty candy wrapper and put it in my pocket. “Like what?”
He hopped out and came around to my door. “Come on. It’ll be fun,” was all the explanation he gave.
Following him down toward the water, I tried to guess what was in the bag. Condoms I might could handle. Hopefully not a knife. Getting murdered and thrown into the river didn’t sound like much fun. He brought the paper bag down to the basketball court by the water. Bright streetlamps kept the pavement well lit.
“What’s in the bag?”
“I was just trying to figure out ways we could pass the time and I was thinking I’d like to see your work. I’ve never known an actual artist before.”
I wasn’t following. “I have pictures on my phone, but like I said, I left it—”
“Here,” he said, dumping a massive pile of ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise packets onto the basketball court. “And I got these for the clean-up,” he informed me, gesturing to a container of wet wipes.
