Boy on a Train: The All American Boy Series

by Leslie McAdam

  “Ooh! I know!” I scrambled to the edge of the bed and faced him. “I’ve always wanted to ride trains.”

  He glanced up from where he was writing. “Why trains?”

  “They’re the most civilized form of transportation. I mean, besides private jet, I assume. You can get up, walk around, sleep, have a nice meal, knit, paint, read a book, look out the window. Freedom and independence without the responsibility of driving. Plus, they’re romantic.” I hoped I didn’t blush.

  “Alright,” he said. Then he looked up. “Wait. You don’t paint or knit.”

  “That’s not the point. I could.”

  “True. Okay, what else?”

  I was getting worked up now. “Well, if we wanted to ride a train in every continent or every country or every kind of train, that could pretty much keep us busy the rest of our lives. It’s perfect!”

  Oops. I hoped he didn’t pause at my use of the word “we.” But it would be us doing these things together, right?

  Why haven’t we kissed yet?

  “Sure. Do you want to travel by any other method? Blimp? Sidecar? Paddleboat?”

  I bit the inside of my lip, still hung up on the train thing. “We could walk in the Black Forest of Germany.”

  He smirked. “So, it’s either take a train or walk. No, like, rent a car in Germany. You know there’s the Autobahn, right?”

  “That’s expected, though. No. I don’t want to take normal transportation if we can help it. Let’s go by train. Or walk. Especially in enchanted forests. I read an article about inns in that area and thought it sounded dreamy.”

  He tilted his head. “Are all your travel ideas dreamy?”

  I wasn’t blushing. Not at all. “Maybe. The world’s full of pretty things, right? I want to see them.”

  He took more notes, then glanced up at me. I reached over and brushed a lock of his hair behind his ear. Then I realized I’d touched him.

  He stilled. I pulled back and hastily opened my mouth. “I can’t believe you aren’t fighting me on any of these,” I said, and winked. “You make me feel like we can actually do them.”

  “Of course. We can do anything.” And his wide smile blew me away. “You’re George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, and we’re planning your trip around the world. I want to give you everything you want.”

  Okay, first, he knew that was my favorite movie, since he’d seen it three times with me.

  Second, I melted at the sincere look on his face. Tate’s nickname should’ve been Fairy Godfather, because he was the best at making wishes come true. He never said something I wanted was dumb or that I wouldn’t be able to get it or shouldn’t have it. He only asked, how do I give it to you?

  So, again, why didn’t he have a girlfriend?

  Or more accurately, why was I not that girlfriend? Because if we were dating, we’d be out the door. We’d leave Merlot and do things, both of the sexy variety and also the general, doing-more-with-our-lives variety.

  The thought passed through my brain that he was gay, and his questions were just a friend thing. That I’d misinterpreted everything all along.

  That thought made me irrationally pissy, so I shoved it aside.

  “What’s on your Anti-Bucket List?” I asked. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Wherever you are,” he answered immediately.

  I shoved him gently on the shoulder again. Mmmm, solid. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I believe the term is, ‘handsome.’”

  God was he ever handsome. Tate radiated confidence in a playful way.

  I ignored him and went back to our original topic. “It might be simpler to buy one of those round-the-world plane tickets or get a Eurorail pass. Can we take everything else off the list and just see where those would take us? Because that’s it.” I kicked my feet excitedly. “I want to ride a train. With you. Everywhere. And travel the world without ever driving anywhere.”

  “No taxis?”

  “Well, we don’t have to be perfect,” I admitted. “We can rely on taxis in some places. And I’d like to take one of those things in Thailand. What are they called?”

  “What am I, Wikipedia?”

  “You have this weird mind for geography and history facts.”

  “True. They’re rickshaws. Or tuk tuks, depending on if they’re motorized.”

  “See? You are Wikipedia. How do you know these things?”

  He shrugged. “My mom took me there.”

  Of course he’d been to Thailand. He’d been everywhere, unlike me.

  His mother, Sandra Lemieux, was a famous wine country caterer who hunted around the world for inspiration. She took private lessons from renowned chefs in other countries, arranged for imports of special ingredients only she had access to, and generally exposed him and his brothers to the entire world.

  Meanwhile, I’d never been to Disneyland, which was in the same freaking state.

  Pathetic, huh?

  But my life was way different than his. Tate had piles of brothers. I had no siblings whatsoever. His dad ran some finance business. My dad was the fire chief, not the go-to caterer for every fancy soiree in the Valley. And unlike his globetrotting mother, as of late, my mom had been sick. She’d taken a leave of absence from her teaching job, although we didn’t know her diagnosis other than fatigue.

  Still, Tate Lemieux knew my dreams. He knew I wanted to go places and do things and that I had this itch in my soul. The fact that Tate took the time to write my dreams down mattered, because he was the kind of guy who could get these things done.

  If I were going to fall in love, I’d fall in love with him.

  I bit my sucker, getting to the gum, and started chewing.

  He unlocked his phone. “Shit. I have to go home. Pick you up tomorrow morning for school?”

  “Yeah,” I said, sitting up on the edge of the bed as he stood and gathered his backpack, sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Wanna stay for dinner? At least it’s not pork chops.”

  “No, thanks.” Tate grinned. “Mom wants to try a new recipe.”

  “Of course she does,” I muttered.

  “You can come by—”

  I held up a hand. “No. Dad already started dinner.”

  “Okay,” he conceded. “Another time.”

  He ripped out the page from the kitty cat notebook and folded it, also pocketing it. Then he paused before he turned to leave, looking down at me. He normally just smiled and waved.

  The expression on his face now was not something I’d seen before. Unless I was imagining it, his expression was heated.

  He leaned over, and his big eyes studied mine for a moment. With a finger under my chin, he tilted up my face—

  And kissed me.

  My door stood wide open. My parents could walk by at any time.

  But his soft lips touched mine.

  Fast.

  This quick peck had no choice but to be memorable, since it was our first kiss, a closed-mouth and speedy caress. So fast I didn’t know what he tasted like. I still had the bubble gum in my mouth when he was done.

  I was so startled, I almost didn’t kiss back, and I forgot to close my eyes. I was sure they were huge.

  His finger traced my jaw, and he hoisted his backpack over one shoulder. “See you tomorrow?”

  The only thing I could do was nod, my brain on the fritz. He turned, walked down the hall, called goodbye to my parents, and let himself out before I could unfreeze.

  I brought my fingers to my lips and touched where his lips had been, wondering what it all meant and knowing it was the sweetest kiss I’d ever had.

  It made me want more. Of him. Of his lips. Of our dreams. Of everything.

  But I didn’t know if that could ever come true. Maybe my dreams were just something written on kitty cat paper and shoved in a pocket, never to happen.

  “Dinner in a half hour!” my dad
called.

  I straightened my face and threw out my gum.

  No matter what, my relationship with Tate had just changed.

  And I couldn’t wait to find out how.

  Two

  The Mobile Living Room

  Tate

  Slightly stunned and blinking, I shut her front door and stumbled out to my truck, my head spinning, my senses full of the candy-sugar scent of Audrey Staunton. Her words echoed in my brain.

  That’s it. I want to ride a train. With you. Everywhere.

  I glanced back at the house.

  God, I love her. I really fucking love her.

  It physically pained me to spend any time away from her. I had to force myself to go home every day, because if I didn’t, I’d never leave. She was my addiction.

  A probably unhealthy addiction, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with her. As days passed, it became harder and harder to hide my feelings for her—if I ever hid them well to begin with.

  I’d had it bad for Audrey ever since we met our freshman year of high school. My parents put me in private school for elementary and middle school, but I talked them into letting me go to public high school like my brothers before me.

  Audrey sat in front of me that first day in math class, twirling her ringlets around her index finger and generally driving me to distraction. She dressed like the schoolgirl she was, with knee-high socks and Mary Jane shoes, short skirts, and tailored button-down shirts, long hair swinging behind her as she walked. She somehow nailed the look so it wasn’t nerdy, but rather innocently sexy. Dark academia. Like she lived in the hot version of Dead Poets Society.

  She loved tweed coats and cuffed pants and newsboy hats and wanted to design her own clothes in a similar style. With her beauty and style, no wonder she was noticeable. If she deigned to give you her attention, you’d die happy. Or at least I would.

  Audrey was simply the most attractive girl I’d ever seen—always had been. But beyond her looks, I loved how much she cared about her family. And the variety of her interests—eating world cuisine, sampling every single form of candy ever made, repeat-watching Peaky Blinders. Spending the afternoon planning our future together engraved her even deeper upon my heart.

  As much as I fantasized about grabbing her and shoving my tongue down her throat, that wasn’t the way to make her like me. For almost four years, my tactic had been to go achingly slow, hoping she’d want me anywhere near as much as I wanted her.

  For years, I’d thought she only wanted to be friends. But lately it had seemed like she’d been flirting. The way she’d tossed her hair just now. God.

  Maybe I did it wrong, though. Maybe my kiss sailed in from nowhere, judging from the surprise in her eyes when I pressed my lips to hers. I couldn’t kiss her longer, though. Couldn’t risk Chief Staunton seeing us tangling tongues. Not when I’d overheard his keep-the-door-open lectures before. I wouldn’t do that to her.

  I got in the MLR, my Mobile Living Room—so named because the bench seats of my oversized Barney-purple truck could probably hold a dozen people—and started the engine.

  That girl had started my internal engine long ago. Fuuuuck.

  Shifting into reverse, I backed away from her house. Her parents, Tim and Denise Staunton, were the second owners of a 1970s tract home with a two-car garage and a lawn mowed short in front. It still had the original avocado green and harvest gold kitchen appliances. Amazing that stylish Audrey came from a complete time warp. Or maybe that explained why she wanted to update historical clothes for today.

  I drove along the valley, then turned and climbed the vineyard-covered hills. Oak trees and pines dotted the landscape, breaking up the neat lines of the grapes, which were laced with bright yellow mustard flowers. Soon, I’d have a view of all of Merlot.

  But I ignored the scenery. Marring my replay of our first kiss was an increasingly sinking sensation in my gut.

  She hadn’t kissed me back, and I kept debating whether I’d fucked up. I hoped I hadn’t.

  When I came to a stop sign, almost home, the silence in my truck startled me. I chuckled. I was so distracted, I’d forgotten to turn on any music. As usual, I’d only thought about her.

  I’d put off kissing Audrey for so damn long because she was too important. She needed a forever guy—and I was all-in—but I didn’t want to push her before she gave me a signal she was ready.

  That didn’t stop my subconscious making her star in all my dirty dreams, though.

  I wasn’t biding my time until she spread her legs for me. Nothing like that. I just was genuinely okay with taking it slow.

  Because we had all the time in the world. There was no other girl for me. Period.

  Although I was getting pretty antsy to kiss her again. And maybe do more, if she wanted to.

  And therein lies the problem.

  I made my way home, parked in the six-car garage, and strolled inside, the roll-top door shutting behind me. My parents’ house smelled like butter, potatoes, and lemony chicken, mixed with vanilla and sugar. Home.

  Entering the kitchen, I threw my backpack down on a bar stool and went to the fridge for a drink.

  My mom turned around from her station at the island counter where she iced cookies. Mom had a blonde bob and wore a crisp chambray shirt over jeans. Her apron said Lemieux Catering.

  “Hi, Tate. How’s Audrey?” Mom asked, giving me a quick peck on the cheek as I passed.

  My brother Perry didn’t turn around, continuing to stir something in a copper pot on the stove. Staring at his face was like looking in the mirror in two years.

  He loved food almost as much as she did and was always trying recipes with her. At twenty, his metabolism was high enough—plus he played enough club soccer—to keep the rich food from showing on his waist.

  “You mean his girlfriend?” Perry snorted, then reached for the salt.

  “Shut up,” I said, gulping a cold glass of water. I dug out my phone and checked for any texts from Audrey. None.

  I’ve got it bad.

  My mom grinned. “I know you aren’t telling me to shut up.”

  I snorted when I realized my words could be misconstrued. “God, no, Mom. Not you. I’m talking to that tool over there.” I pointed my cell phone at Perry.

  “Boys.” She clamped her lips together, suppressing a smile.

  “She’s fine, by the way.” Audrey was way more than fine, but there was no way I’d let my mom know that.

  “Are you dating or no?” Perry looked over his shoulder.

  “No.” I managed to not say it like a question. He’d asked me before, and I usually answered with more certainty.

  I mean, were we dating? I’d never asked her out. I just hung out with her. I did things for her.

  But I barely touched her because I needed to be very careful with her.

  “So, you won’t mind if I ask her out?” he asked breezily, and I growled low in my throat.

  “Perry!” Mom’s eyes flashed fire at him. “Don’t provoke your brother.”

  “It’s literally my job to provoke my brother,” he insisted, laughing hard into the copper pot. “Forgotten middle brother needs to assert himself sometimes.”

  “Who’s the middle brother?” My oldest brother Bert walked in, a clone of my dad, with darker hair than mine.

  I drew the best straw for names. My brothers were named after our grandfathers. Not sure where Mom got the name Tate, but I’d take it over Perry or Bert.

  “Me, asshole,” Perry said without heat.

  “Language,” Mom said, shaking her head and reaching for more frosting. But I knew it didn’t bother her.

  In this house, we never censored ourselves. Mom focused only on important things like avoiding broken bones and ensuring we all went to the dentist. She’d let go of micro-control a long time ago. Our only house rule was, “don’t swear where Grandma can hear.”

  Actually, there were a few other rules, namely, “don’t splash Mom in the pool,” and “don’t pee
on the floor.” Every rule had been broken multiple times, by just about everyone.

  Also, in other news, my parents were the coolest.

  “Need any help?” I asked her to be polite but wanted to escape to my room.

  “I’m fine, thanks, hon. What about you? Are you getting excited about graduation? Everyone’s coming, you know.”

  “Can’t wait.” My tone was distracted because my phone vibrated, and I checked it hoping it was Audrey. But it was this girl, Jade.

  Jade: Have you seen? Mr. Peterson posted the grade on our final project

  Me: No

  She and I had been paired for a Drama project, and ever since she got my number, she hadn’t stopped texting me. I tried to respond as little as possible.

  Jade: We got an A-!!

  Me: Awesome

  Jade: I know, right?

  Jade:

  My mom continued talking, a wistful tone to her voice. “You don’t know how much it means to me and your dad that you chose our alma mater. You’re going to love it in New York City. It’s the center of the universe. The arts. The culture. The restaurants. The food. All those interesting neighborhoods.”

  And Audrey coming with me. If she’d chosen studying in Anchorage, I’d have gone there with her instead.

  Jade: See you tomorrow!!

  I didn’t bother to respond, because I didn’t want to encourage her to keep texting me. I didn’t know why she wouldn’t leave me alone.

  “Something makes me think I’ll wake up one day in New York to you and Dad lurking in my living room.” I reached around my mom and stole a cookie.

  “Hmmm. Maybe.” My mom looked at the clock on the oven and shooed me away. “Have you done your homework?”

  I had, but I had a date with my computer. “I’ll be in my room.” I refilled my water, grabbed my backpack, and went down the hall, leaving my brothers and mom talking about recipes.

  When I got to my room, I opened my laptop, pulled out the Anti-Bucket List from my pocket, and started Googling. Let’s say we started with London. Audrey needed a passport, so I researched application requirements. Then she’d be able to jet off as easily as me.