“He just gave you the code?” she asks.
“I might have gotten him tickets to a game,” I admit.
“So, this is where the magic happens?”
I chuckle again. “Something like that.” I open the door and reach into a little closet inside where I keep an old sleeping bag for when I need alone time. I’ve on rare occasions fallen asleep up here while studying.
“You keep a sleeping bag here?” Meg asks.
“Contrary to popular belief, I do study.”
“Wow, wonders never cease,” she retorts as she sets her bag down and pulls out a rolled-up pillow, blanket, and laptop.
Then, she reaches into the front pocket and pulls out a box of cookies.
“You remembered,” I say as I watch her open them and set them down on the blanket. I sit down and pull out a cookie, examining it.
I sit in stunned silence as Megan pulls the thermos out from the side of her bag and opens it. She pours me a glass of milk. I twist the top of the cookie and dunk it. She grabs one and does the same. We eat in silence; no words are exchanged because they aren’t needed. After a few cookies, I set the milk down and look at her.
“What will you do if you don’t get offered a job at NASA?” I ask as I lean back against the brick half wall of the bell tower.
She props her pillow up and leans back next to me. “I guess I’ll apply with some government contractors. What about you?”
I shrug. “I’m still trying to figure out my plan b.”
“You always were a high roller,” she replies.
I raise an eyebrow and she shrugs. I take another sip of milk. “We better figure out a way to get those jobs, then,” I state.
She holds out her glass of milk to mine. “To MC being back in the building. We are going to kick some ass and take some names.”
I grin. Some of our friends used to call us MC when we were little because we always used to say that the party didn’t start until we arrived, sort of like an emcee at a club. “To MC,” I say.
Setting down her glass, she pulls up her notes. “Alright, let’s study.”
I lean forward and press my lips to hers. Her mouth parts on a gasp, allowing me to deepen the kiss. I cup her face and run my thumbs over her high cheekbones, tracing the shape and committing it to memory. I’d recognize her anywhere, just by the feel of her skin beneath my fingers.
Pulling back, I look into her heavy-lidded eyes. “I’m ready to study now.”
She groans. “You can’t kiss me like that and then study.”
I smirk. “I just did.”
She playfully swats at my chest. “You drive me crazy.”
Winking, I settle back against the wall next to her. “You love it, and you know it.”
I want to say that I love her, always have, but instead, I clear my throat and start going over my notes. Now I want to pass this class and get those jobs, but not just for me, for us.
Chapter Nineteen
Megan
We park in my parents’ driveway because there is absolutely zero space at the Moores’ house. There’s a giant dumpster in the driveway, four pickup trucks, two vans, and about eight other cars parked along the street.
I open the car door and start to walk across the street. Clark is next to me by the time we reach the driveway. He opens the side door for me, and my eyes go wide. It’s complete and total pandemonium. There are construction people everywhere. A plumber is working on dismantling the kitchen sink. Most of the cabinets are gone along with the appliances. Clark’s siblings are busy packing up stuff in the family room on the other side of the giant walk-in pantry.
“Clark, come help us get all these things down from the shelves!” Lanie calls out from where she is attempting to reach the tops of the built-ins on either side of the fireplace.
I look at Clark. “I thought it was just the kitchen. How many rooms are you all planning to remodel?”
Clark shrugs and steps down into the sunken room. He picks Lanie up and swiftly sets her to the side. She yelps and swats his ass. “Clark!”
He grins. “Out of my way, Mother Hen. I got this.”
I laugh. I’d forgotten that’s what they all called Lanie. I walk over to her. “How can I help?”
She looks around with her hands on her hips. “Uh, maybe you can help Di get all the liquor from the wet bar into those plastic bins,” she says, pointing across the room. The backside of the kitchen’s pantry is a wet bar with glass shelves above it, a small sink, and a wine fridge.
“Sure thing.” I walk over and Di starts handing me bottles. We end up filling three giant plastic bins.
“Damn, Mom and Dad have a shit ton of alcohol,” she mutters.
I laugh. “I’m fairly certain that my dad is keeping them well-stocked.”
Giggling, Di presses the lids on the plastic bins. “Your dad’s contribution to the weekly parties is critical. I just had no idea that my parents kept so much of it. I always thought we finished everything.”
“You think this is bad, you should see my parents’ wine cellar. It’s ridiculous.”
“I bet,” she replies as we attempt to pick up a box and fail.
“Damn, these are heavy.”
Looking around, Di clears her throat and gets Kent and Garrett’s attention. They are currently taking down several framed pieces of artwork above the sectional.
“Step aside, ladies,” Kent states as he sets down a painting. He easily picks up the giant box and starts walking it into the living room. I peek past the double pocket doors into the living room. It’s filled with boxes but otherwise seems untouched.
“So, what rooms are you all remodeling?” I ask.
Kent steps back down into the room. “Kitchen, breakfast room, bathroom, and family room. Those are the rooms that need the most work. I wanted to knock down this wall and make the living room and family room one giant room, but everyone turned me down. They said if I touched anything in there, Mom would murder me.” He shrugs and goes back to moving paintings.
I walk into the living room. The room is filled with antique furniture. A shelf with glass doors takes up half of one wall and is filled with trinkets and photographs.
I feel Clark behind me before I see him.
“That’s my mom’s grandparents,” he whispers in my ear as he leans down past me and points to a black-and-white photograph of a couple. “That’s a shell my grandfather found on some Pacific Island when he was in World War II. He somehow managed to bring it home in one piece.” I listen as Clark goes on, pointing at various items and telling the story about them.
“I love your family,” I murmur when he pauses. “There’s so much history, and love, and depth to everything.”
His hands begin to massage my shoulders. “I suppose there is.”
I turn and he keeps his hands on my shoulders. “I always wished I could be part of your family. Part of all of this,” I add as I motion around the house.
We both look back into the family room where his siblings are all working together to pack things up and move them. There’s some chatter amongst them, but they know each other so well that words aren’t even needed to complete the tasks.