I press my lips together, remembering the pressure of Devin’s lips, his warm tongue, the cool metal of his lip ring. The way he touched me. It was the kind of thing you see in movies on the Hallmark Channel. Sparks and everything that comes with it, only I don’t get the boy at the end.
Isn’t that what you wanted? my subconscious reminds me. I huff in frustration. My eyes trail to the half-finished canvas and I sigh. Voices trail from downstairs, and I know I should join them. I throw on my shorts and check the mirror one last time before I head down the stairs.
Dad and Dev are in the kitchen. Dad is sitting at the table while Devin moves around the kitchen with ease. “Do you have any shredded cheese?”
“Umm, there might be some in the vegetable drawer,” Dad says, pointing to the fridge.
“What is happening?” I ask, sliding onto a seat at the table.
“Devin’s cooking,” Daddy says with a slight grin.
“I thought we were ordering takeout?” I ask.
“Was planning to, but the boy said he could cook.”
I give an incredulous laugh and point to him. “You know how to cook?”
“Why do you say it like that?” He arches a brow at me.
“Because you’re…” I gesture my hand up and down in his general vicinity. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and denim with holes in both knees. He’s one part grunge, and one part degenerate. “Let’s just say you don’t look the part.”
He snorts. “That’s awfully judgmental of you, Veronica,” he admonishes, turning back to rummaging through the drawer. “I’ll have you know, I’m a great cook.” He finds the cheese and holds it in the air triumphantly.
“I’m not judging.”
Dad holds up his thumb and index finger an inch apart. “You sound a little judgy, sweetie.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I roll my eyes and walk over to where Devin is sprinkling cheese into a bowl of eggs. “Whatcha making?”
“Frittatas,” he says.
“We have the stuff to make that?” I eye dad, who shrugs like he has no clue but is just happy for a home cooked meal.
“Mostly, I’ll have to run to my house for a few things though,” Dev tells me.
I hop on the counter, watching him with rapt attention. “Where did you learn how to do that?”
He lifts a shoulder. “If you wanna eat...”
Although he doesn’t finish the thought, I know exactly what he means. Once upon a time if I wanted a hot meal, I’d had to prepare it for myself. “I just lived off instant ramen.” I laugh.
Dad stands abruptly and shoves his hands in his pockets. His eyes glisten with emotion. His voice is thick with it too. “I forgot I promised your Gran I’d come over and do her yard.”
“Oh, okay—” I stutter, unsure of what to say. I know he feels guilty for some of the stuff I had to go through when I was a kid, but I’ve forgiven him. I just wish he could forgive himself, but he’s gone before I can utter another word of protest.
I exhale when I’m alone with Dev. “I wish I knew what to say to him. I wish he believed me when I told him I forgive him.”
Dev sucks his lip. “Parents are just people. At least yours is trying. My mom is—” He shakes his head, but doesn’t finish his thought.
“What?” I press.
“Nothing,” he says. “Hey, I’m going to run home and grab a few things.” He presses a kiss to my nose. “Be right back.”
After our driving lesson, Devin dropped me off at home while he took his momma to run an errand. Daddy was still hiding out at Gran's, so I took it as a sign to finish my sex painting.
It’s abstract, which isn’t my typical style, but nothing about this summer is typical. With Taylor on loud, I squirt the same colors Devin picked the night before and get to work. An hour later, I stand back and smile. It’s finished, and...it isn’t bad. My mind wanders back to last night and my body buzzes with frenetic energy. It’s a small win, but I’m proud of myself and I want to celebrate. Before I have a chance to overthink it, I shower and shave every inch of my body. I don’t own anything sexy, but I do have a few thongs that Momma insisted I buy because apparently, panty lines are a fate worse than death. I slip them up my legs and throw on a t-shirt, no bra, and a pair of shorts.
I head out the back door, over to the Tedesco house, and make the short climb up to his window.
What if he isn’t here? Or worse, what if he’s with someone else? I push those thoughts out of my mind and push forward. I’m doing this, for my muse and maybe a little for me. I can’t remember the last time I’ve done something purely because I want to. My entire life for the last eight years has been all about art school. Every decision I’ve made has been carefully crafted to fit into my plan. I did it, and now that I’ve achieved the only goal I’ve ever had, I feel lost. Which is not what I’d been expecting to feel.
I’m supposed to be doing my victory lap, and instead, I’m stuck. Not anymore. I will push forward and consequences be damned. Peeking into his window, I sigh in relief when I see he’s home and he’s alone. He’s lying on his bed, his old guitar on his chest, absently strumming the strings. I try the window, and thankfully it slides up with ease. Throwing my leg over the windowsill, I sit and watch him. He seems lost in thought and I wonder if he’s thinking about her.
I don’t know how long I watch him before the music stops and he catches me. “I give you one orgasm and you’re stalking me?”
I hop into his room and make my way to the bed as he sits up. “You break into my room all the time. Payback’s a bitch.”
“Whatcha doing here, Veronica?” He puts the guitar between us and I run my finger down the spine.
“I lift a shoulder still fingering the wood grain. “Dad isn’t home, and I don’t want to be alone.”
“Is that all?” He bites his bottom lip.
“I’ve been thinking about yesterday,” I confess as images flash through my mind.
Devin moves the guitar aside and pulls me onto his lap. His hands run up and down my sides and my nipples harden into little nubs. His thumb brushes over one peak and he grins. “And you thought you’d come over here with your tits out and I’d give you another lesson.”
I lean forward. His hands fall from my breast and he wraps them around my body, palming my ass. His mouth brushes against mine and he kisses me deeply as his fingers find their way under my shorts. He breaks the kiss, and turns me around, lifting the band of my shorts. “A thong?” he murmurs. “Someone really wants to get fucked.” He growls.
My first instinct is to bristle at the harshness of his words, but I can’t deny the effect they have on me. I press my thighs together and whimper. “Yes, please.”
He laughs at my neediness. “We should have that talk now, I think.”
I pout. “And then you’ll fuck me?”
“Why are you in such a rush?”
“Why aren’t you?” I counter. “I mean I know I’m not a supermodel with purple hair.”
His fingers brush against my lips and he silence’s me. “You are perfect, Roni. I literally almost got into a fist fight with my friend over you.”