Page 95 of The Naughty List

“Hey, what’s your problem, Carson?”

I shake the thoughts from my head. That was the last day that the two of us talked about my dating life or “sex” life at all. Every plan I have at making him see me as a woman and not some little girl always backfires. I was just thinking that maybe if he knew that I had some experience under my belt, he’d be more inclined to see me as the woman I am, or in that case, was. But my plans never work on him. I guess in his eyes, I’m forever stuck as still being little Felicity from next door. They always talk about that fantasy of the girl next door but what they don’t tell you is, that’s the friend zone and the only thing harder than getting out of the friend zone is getting out of paying taxes. That really dampers my mood and excitement I had for tonight.

I change out of my sweats and hoodie and pull on a pair of ripped up skinny jeans, not practical in an Illinois winter but hey, they make my ass look like a damn peach. I slide my feet back into my white Converse and grab a gray off-the-shoulder sweater from my bag. I pull my hair out of its bun and it falls around me in soft dark curls. I grab my dry shampoo and spray the hell out of it, giving it that sexy, I don’t care look. I examine my face in the mirror. My makeup is still done from graduation today, so I just touch up my under-eye area and add some fresh mascara and lip gloss. I grab my favorite perfume and dab it on a few pressure points: my neck, wrists, and down between my cleavage. Then I turn around to gather up my phone and purse.

A knock comes at the door and I spin around, expecting to see my mom, but it’s Carson walking through my door. I look him up and down quickly and my mouth instantly waters. He’s still just as tall as I remember him and maybe even more muscular than before. His biceps look like they’re about to rip through the navy crew neck sweater he’s wearing. His dark hair is short on the back and sides, the top a little longer and styled neatly. His blue eyes land on mine and they light up. I run across the room, throwing myself in his arms. I wrap my own tightly around his neck and my legs around his hips. He squeezes me against him, and I feel how hard and strong his chest is against my own.

“Damn, I missed you, sweetheart,” he says into my hair.

“I missed you too,” I reply, squeezing him as hard as I can. I smell a faint touch of cologne and it makes me tingle. He no longer wears the cheap aerosol body sprays he used to hose himself down with in high school; this scent smells expensive.

After a long moment of hugging, things begin to feel too good, at least to me. I begin to let loose and he places me on my feet. “You look good,” he says with a smile, looking me up and down.

I cock my head to the side. “I look good? That’s it?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes. “Always with the dramatics, Felicity. You look great. Hot. Grown up. Is that better?”

I smile wide and nod. “Much better. Grown up, but not old, right?’ I point at him.

He laughs. “You most definitely don’t look old.”

He falls back into the chair at my desk and his eyes land on that poster again. “Damn, your mom hasn’t ripped that thing down yet?”

I smile and shrug, more than ready to play with him. “Maybe she likes to have him watching too,” I joke.

And just like I knew he would, he makes a sick gagging sound.

I laugh and shake my head. “So, what’s the game plan for tonight?”

He sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubs his hands together. “I was thinking we would start slow by going to Sandy’s for some food and drinks. Then we can hit up a few bars in town, meet up with the guys, you know. See what we can find.”

Sandy’s was our favorite hangout back in the day. It’s nothing special, just a local diner that serves greasy spoon food and some pretty kick-ass pies this time of year.

I nod and smile. “Sounds good. Let’s do it.”

I lead the way back to the driveway where our mothers are still talking.

“You two better behave yourselves tonight. I don’t want any midnight calls from the police. You hear me?” my mom says as we walk past.

“You have my word, Mrs. Brighton,” Carson says.

“Carson, you haven’t seen your mother in months. Aren’t you going to at least give me a hug?” his mother says.

I turn around to see him stop in his tracks. He gives me an annoyed look and turns to give her a hug. I wave and smile at my mom. “See you later. Love you and thanks for picking me up,” I say, opening the door to his fully restored Trans Am.

Mom smiles and waves and Carson jumps in the car next to me. He turns and gives me a smile as he twists the key and the car fires to life. He backs out of the drive, shifts into drive, hits the gas, and we take off, zooming through the night like the good old days.

“Woohooooo!” He hollers and I burst into laughter. I glance through the back window and see our moms just shaking their heads as we speed away.

I laugh and shake my head. “I can’t believe you still have this car.”

He smirks in the darkness. “Of course I still have it. I’m never getting rid of this baby,” he says, running his hand along the dash. “I mean, of course this isn’t my everyday drive anymore. I just pull her out for special occasions…like tonight. Tonight it will take us back to our teen years.”

I smile. “It really does,” I agree, reaching into my purse and pulling out the bottle of gin I have tucked away there.

He looks at me and laughs.

“Just like old times.”

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