Page 41 of Where It Begins

“True, but I always end up in the middle seat and that sucks the D. Especially in those really old cars with the hump on the floor.”

I rush to get in front of her when we reach the pool house so I can be polite and open the door for her. “That’s legit.”

She steps over the threshold and whistles. “You have a TV in your pool house?”

“Yeah. This is where me and my buddies hang out. There’s a bedroom through there if you want to change.” I point across the room.

“Sure. Thanks.”

I rummage around in the fridge and line up a selection of sodas on the counter while I wait. A few minutes later, she returns wearing a beach cover up and she’s piled her hair on top of her head in a huge, puffy bun.

“Want something to drink?” I motion to the counter.

“Ooooh, I haven’t had grape soda since I was a kid. I’ll take one of those.”

“Cool.” I hand her the can and take an orange soda for myself. “We can spike them.”

Violet arches a brow. “Tempting, but I’m a lightweight and awkward with the word vomit when I’m sober. Pretty sure I don’t want to add booze to the mix.”

“Fair.” I gulp down some soda and replace it with the contents of a tiny vodka bottle, hiding it under an empty bag of Doritos in the garbage before we head outside.

Violet takes a lounge chair in the shade. I strip off my shirt and take the lounger beside her. Nothing is worse than a t-shirt tan.

“You’re fuzzy as fuck.” Violet gently pats my arm hair, then snatches her hand away. “Shit. Sorry. That was weird. And awkward. You have a lot of chest hair for a teenager. I mean, it’s blond, so like, it mostly blends in, but it’s almost like an optical illusion. You have a blond aura of protection. Imagine if that was an actual superpower? Like your body fuzz was a magic repelling force field!”

I stare at her, waiting to see what else will come out of her mouth.

“Sorry. I suffer from word vomit. It’s worse when I’m nervous, but it never really goes away.”

“My dad sort of warned me about that,” I admit.

“That was smart of him. Seriously, you must be the envy of all the dude-bros in your grade,” Violet says.

I run my hand over my chest. “I’m due for a trim.”

“A trim?”

“Yeah. I use a number four trimmer in the summer. Keeps the mosquitoes from getting caught in my arm hair.”

“That makes sense. It would be a good insulator in the winter, though.” She grins. “You’re like a yeti.”

I snort-laugh. I could get used to Violet.

“So let’s talk about our ’rents before they come out. If we’re meeting, that means they must be pretty serious, right?”

I nod. “Seems that way.”

“I haven’t met one of my mom’s boyfriends since middle school. How about you?”

“There was one woman in my freshman year. She had two younger kids, I think, but I never met them, and they only dated for like, a couple of months, maybe?”

“And our parents have been dating for what, like, five months now?”

“That sounds about right.” I sip my drink. “My dad’s been working out with me a lot more lately, maybe trying to buff up for the summer.”

“Or he’s trying to buff up for all the boning they’re doing,” Violet mutters. “He’s got an ass you can bounce a quarter off of, that’s for sure.”

I spit spray my drink all over my chest. “You checked out my dad’s ass?”

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