Page 97 of Pieces of Me

“But you don’t want to.”

She shrugs.

I turn the tables,testher. “Brianna will be there, probably with Colton.”

She flips the page, all cool and calm. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure my dick is broken. She asks, “And you don’t want to see them together?”

I roll my eyes, even though she can’t see it. “I give very little fucks about what they do, Jamie.”

She closes the book and sets it carefully on the coffee table. “So, let’s go,” she says, standing and moving to the dresser, where she violently opens the drawer again. She switches from the t-shirt to a dress, no bra, nips out for anyone to see.

I accept her challenge, get dressed, grab some beers from the fridge, and a blanket. I open the door for her. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Jamie doesn’t say a word as we drive to Colton’s house. She just sits there, basking in the glory of her torturous ways. More than once, she’s opened her mouth to say something but stops herself. I know she doesn’t want to go. She doesn’t enjoy going to parties, and generally, she’s not a fan ofpeople.At least, not people our age. To be honest, I don’t want to be here either, but it’s better than being stuck in the confines of our home with a naked Jamie testing, teasing, torturing me.

I pull into the long driveway, already seeing the headlights from the other trucks in the distance. “Any time you want to back down…” I murmur.

“I didn’t realize I was being challenged,” she says, and then she lifts the bottom of her dress a few inches.

I grip the steering wheel tighter.

Slowly, silently, I take us to the middle of the field and back into an open spot.

Once a month, Colton throws these field parties because there’s fuck all else to do around here. We drive our trucks to the middle of the wheat field, far enough away from the main house that his family can’t see or hear us. Then we sit in the truck beds and drink and smoke weed, and, if we behave, we wake up in our beds the following day. More often than not, we sleep in our trucks. Sometimes, we just lie wherever we pass out on the field. That’s the sign of arealgood time. Or, at least, it used to be. Now, I just want to crawl into bed with Jamie, read her a story, and go the fuck to sleep.

“So this is a field party?” Jamie asks, looking around.

“Yep,” I huff and grab the beers from the back seat. “I’ll only drink a couple unless you want to drive home.”

“Who says I don’t want to drink?”

I glance at her. “Fine, you drink. I’ll drive home.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to drink.”

“Then why bring it up?”

“To annoy you,” she says, shrugging.

We get out simultaneously and meet at the rear of the truck. I lower the tailgate, lift her onto it. She takes a moment to look around, not that there’s a lot to see. There are about twenty-odd busted-up trucks parked and facing different directions. Some have their headlights on, aimed at the lit bonfire in the middle. People move from truck to truck with beers in their hands or joints between their fingers. A couple of the trucks play music too distorted for me to make out, and between the noise of the bass rattling hunks of metal is the sound of yelling mixed with laughter.

When I was a teenager, this is how I spent most summer nights. Now that I’m twenty-three, it’s fair to say I’ve outgrown it.

“Do you know everyone here?” Jamie asks.

“Probably.” I shrug. “You want me to go around and introduce you?”

“Maybe later,” she says, rubbing up and down her arms. It’s cooler at Colton’s field than on our land because we have trees to break the wind. Here, it’s just endless fields of wheat. I bet she’s regretting her choice to come now, though she’s far too stubborn to admit it.

“I’ll be back,” I tell her and grab the blanket I’d thrown in the back seat. When I get back, Jamie is sitting with her legs crossed. I place the blanket around her shoulders, and she lowers her feet, lets them hang off the edge. I stand between her legs and rub at her arms before cocooning her in my warmth. “Better?” I ask, and she nods against my shoulder. I take her hands in both of mine and bring them to my mouth, blowing warm air onto her open palms.

“You’re so sweet,” she says. “You’re always taking care of me.”

I lift my eyes to hers, noticing the way the moonlight reflects off her irises. “Well, yeah, it’s my job.”

She scoots forward, opening her arms out so she can wrap the blanket around both of us. And then she kisses me—soft, sweet kisses with just a hint of tongue. “I love you,” she whispers against my lips.

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