I shrugged and folded the shirt neatly into my gym bag. “That’s okay. Calm down.” Her constant pacing and flapping were making me nervous.
She sat on the bed, wringing her hands in her lap. “Rory, we might have separate rooms. I haven’t told my mum we’re sleeping together. I mean ... how the hell do you bring that up in conversation? Jesus, she might be expecting me to still be a virgin when I’m forty-five.”
I barked out a laugh. “That horse has bolted.”
She slapped my arm. “You know what I mean.”
I sat down beside her and took her hands in mine. “Babe, I don’t mind if your parents know or don’t know we’re sleeping together. I just want you to be comfortable. I can keep my hands off you for a weekend if it helps.”
Lacey’s features relaxed, and she leaned against my shoulder. “You really are the best boyfriend.”
I chuckled. “Not even close, sweetheart. I can’t—”
“Don’t Rory. I don’t need things. It’s the kind of guy you are that matters, not the stuff you buy me.”
I sighed. “I still bought supermarket flowers for Valentine’s Day because they were all I could afford.”
“And I loved them.”
“And the frozen pizza for dinner?”
“You know I love pepperoni.”
“Other guys—”
“Would make a fuss about going to church even though they don’t believe in God, but you didn’t. Other guys would be promising to sneak into my room to get their hole this weekend, yet you haven’t.”
“Get their hole? Lacey, babe, you have such a delicate turn of phrase.”
She laughed. “I’m nervous.”
“I like you nervous. You have a saucy mouth when you’re nervous.”
I tickled her, causing her to fall back on the bed. Climbing on top of her to pin her in place, I kept up my assault, causing her to squirm back and forth. Her constant movement roused my cock, and she rubbed against it through my jeans.
When I ground against her, she let out a squeal, and smacked my arm. “Rory, we need to get on the road.”
“You and your dirty mouth started it. While I enjoy making love to you, I kind of like the idea of getting my hole from my sweet, gorgeous girl.”
She bit her lip and a wicked gleam came into her eye.
I was a goner.
WE LEFT TWO HOURS LATER than planned. As Lacey drove up the side of Loch Lomond, she hammered away about what to expect.
“My brother is fifteen. He will probably think you’re the bee’s knees. For him, having a big sister is totally lame, so he’ll see you as a big brother. He plays shinty, so he’ll probably ask you loads about the uni hockey team.”
“Shinty is a bit like hockey, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s more violent. Hockey is for wusses.”
“You didn’t think I was a wuss when I was drilling my cock into you an hour ago, babe.”
“Don’t make me crash the car, you wretch.” She pressed her lips together, and even in the fading light, I could see the crimson creeping up her cheeks.
“You mean the memory of me getting my hole is enough to make you crash?” I asked in a low whisper.
“Fuck, I hate you. I’m about to introduce you to my parents and you’re getting me all turned on.”
“There are plenty of places we could park around here. Lots of trees and lovely views.”
“We’re already late,” she said, pointing at the campervan we’d been stuck behind for the better part of ten miles.
“I was joking.” I cocked my head to the side and adjusted my position in my seat. “Half-joking. Your red cheeks are making me think of when you give me a blow job, and it’s not helping.”
“You have a filthy mind,” she muttered.
I agreed wholeheartedly.
“What else do I need to know?” I asked trying to change the subject, in the hope I could get rid of my uncomfortable boner.
“Uh, the last time I had a boyfriend in high school, my dad pretended he hated him. My dad has a shotgun licence, and he got the shotgun out and cleaned it in front of Anthony, saying that if anything happened to me, they’d never find his body. Then he gave Anthony a pat on the back and reminded him to have me home for ten. Anthony nearly wet himself.”
I nodded. “Good to know. He likes mind games and is protective of you. It’s better to have parents who care too much than parents who don’t give a shit about you.”
She glanced at me on the short section of straight road. “Shit, Rory, I’m sorry. I never thought.”
I shrugged. I got over the fact I’d had shit parents many years ago. I’d been brought up by my gran from the age of nine because both my parents were junkies who spent so much time in and out of jail. It had been Gran’s or the care system. They’d died sometime in the year or so after I’d gone to live with Gran. Mum overdosed and Dad got into a fight over drug money and was stabbed.
Gran didn’t give much of a shit, so I stayed quiet, kept my room tidy, and had a part-time job on a milk round to pay for myself. We lived our separate lives until she died when I was seventeen. I ended up in a home for young people who wanted to stay on at school and who needed support but not looking after full time. It suited me. Then I went to university, and a year later, met Lacey. Now I lived with her—not that her parents knew.
“Don’t apologise. People should cherish you, Lace. I certainly do, and I’m looking forward to meeting the people who cherished you first,” I said.
“Fuck off, Rory.” She swiped at her eye. “If you could only stop saying such nice sentimental stuff, maybe I wouldn’t be falling in love with you. We’re too young.”
I watched the scenery go by. “You love me?”
“Does that freak you out?” she asked, concentrating more than she needed to on the road.
“No. It’s just no one’s ever loved me before.”
“Aw, Rory, your parents and gran will have loved you. They just didn’t know how to show it.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing away the lump in my throat.
“If you say so.” I said, looking out the window. “God, you’re brave.”
“In what way am I brave?”
“Being able to say you love me. I’ve loved you for ages, but I’ve never had the balls to come out and say it.”
“You do?”
“Of course, I do.”
She let out a long breath. “Good then.”
THE EASTER WEEKEND was amazing. I loved Maureen, Fraser, and Jonas Kendrick, and they seemed to take to me well enough. On Saturday night, we went to the pub and met quite a few of Lacey’s school friends. I spent most of the night pulling her hands away from her face as she hid from one embarrassing story after another.
As expected, Lacey slept in her old bedroom, and I was given the guest room with a double bed. However, on Saturday night, a tipsy, pyjama-clad Lacey crept into my room and lifted the covers.
She slipped into the bed, and I turned to her. “What are you doing?”
“Coming to say goodnight.”