Summer Fling

by Jerica MacMillan

“Tell me about it.” Finally Megan was on the same page.

  “Okay, but you left at like three thirty.” Megan glanced at the clock. “He went shopping with you for over three hours?”

  “No, we went and saw a movie.” Who needed to spend three hours shopping for a shirt? Not even Megan took that long to pick out one shirt.

  Megan’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “And then you made out in his car.”

  Abby snorted. “Pretty much.”

  “And you’re going out tomorrow?”

  “Yup.”

  Wrinkling her brows together, Megan shook her head. “This doesn’t fit with what I’ve heard about him.”

  Abby shrugged.

  Megan pulled the towel off her head and stood up, her chin length mop of curls bouncing around her face. “Well, I’ve got to finish getting ready to go. Isaac’s going to be here soon.”

  “Okay. Have fun at the party tonight. Don’t get too wasted.”

  Megan laughed. When she got to her doorway, she turned and looked back at Abby, her smile replaced with concern. “So, I know I said you should have some fun. But Lance has a reputation as a player. Be careful, yeah? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Swallowing, Abby nodded then cleared her throat. That reputation had her more concerned than ever. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll be careful.”

  Abby stood in front of her closet wrapped in a towel. She had less than an hour until Lance would be picking her up, and she was still basically naked.

  She didn’t know what to wear. She’d been standing here staring at her closet for over fifteen minutes, paralyzed. It was lunch, so it shouldn’t be too fancy, right? But he’d actually told her it was a date beforehand, so shorts, a T-shirt, and flip flops seemed too casual.

  She needed help.

  “Megan!”

  Rustling fabric and the sound of something hitting the floor reached her through her bedroom door. A minute later it opened a few inches, Megan’s face appearing in the opening. She held herself up with one hand gripping the doorknob and her other side braced against the doorjamb. She leveled a glare at Abby. “You bellowed?”

  “You know, you really ought to get over one hangover before giving yourself another one.”

  Megan scowled. “Did you really just make me drag my ass to your room to lecture me about hangovers?”

  “No.” Abby clutched her towel to her chest with one hand and gestured to her closet with the other. “I need help deciding what to wear.”

  Megan stumbled her way over to Abby’s bed and collapsed in a heap on top of it, throwing one arm over her face. “How about clothes?” came her deadpan response. “Or you could just wear the towel. I bet Lance wouldn’t mind.” A grin peeked out from under her arm.

  “Ha ha. You’re so funny I might die from laughing too hard. Seriously,” Abby pleaded, “I need your help. You’re better at this kind of thing than I am.”

  Megan sighed and put her arm down so she could look at Abby. “Fine. Where are you going?”

  Abby started playing with her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

  Megan stared at her for a minute. “You’re nervous?”

  “What? No. Why would I be nervous?” Abby’s denial didn’t sound convincing even to her own ears, and she kept tugging on her lip.

  Megan pointed at her. “You are nervous. I know that look. And you only play with your lip when you’re nervous or deep in thought.”

  Abby forced her hand down to her side, clenching her fist to keep it there. “Maybe I’m deep in thought. I’m trying to decide what to wear, after all.” Even she couldn’t ignore the belligerent and defensive quality in her voice.

  “Yeah.” Megan chuckled. “And you only do that when you’re nervous about who you’re seeing. The rest of the time you couldn’t give two shits about your clothes.”

  Sighing, Abby turned back to her closet. “If you’re not going to help, you can just go bury yourself under the blanket on the couch again.”

  “Nope. I’m staying in your bed. You made me come in here, so here I am.” Megan snuggled deeper into Abby’s pillow. “Get me a blanket. I’m cold.”

  Rolling her eyes at Megan’s petulant demands, Abby stepped over to her bed and yanked the comforter out from under Megan and put it over her. “Why don’t you wear more than shorts and a tank top since you always get cold when you have a hangover?”

  “We’re not here to discuss my wardrobe choices. Or my hangover recovery techniques.” Megan pulled the comforter up to her chin and closed her eyes, humming her pleasure. “I love your comforter.”

  “Good. I’ll buy you one just like it if you help me figure out what to wear for my date.”

  Megan cracked an eye open. “Liar.”

  “Fine. I won’t drag your skinny butt out of my bed if you help me pick something out.”

  “Ass, Abby,” Megan corrected. “You can say ass now. Your mom will never know as long as you don’t cuss in front of her.”

  “Ass, then. Are you going to help me or not?” Abby had intended that to come out snappish and angry, but instead it sounded whiny and desperate. She cringed on the inside. It wasn’t good that some guy she barely knew was turning her into this. Megan was right—she normally didn’t care what people thought about her.

  “You’re going to lunch with the guy, not a masquerade ball. Wear something comfortable.”

  “Okay, but I don’t want to look like a slob or anything.”

  “Abby, he asked you out while you were wearing your Pluto T-shirt. I doubt he’d care if you wore a paper bag.” Megan thought for a minute. “Just wear something dressy casual. Like your sheer turquoise top over a white cami with your favorite shorts.”

  “Thank you.” Abby almost collapsed with relief now that she had direction. “Now get out so I can get dressed.”

  “Not gonna happen.” Megan rolled over to face the wall. “You promised I could stay if I helped. I’m probably going to take a nap.”

  “Fine.” Abby knew there was no point in arguing. Plus, she had promised. “Just promise you’ll puke in the bathroom.”

  Megan waved an arm at her. “I stopped puking two hours ago. I just need some sleep.”

  Megan’s deep breathing turned to soft snores while Abby got dressed. For all her obnoxious prying, Megan was a good friend. She always helped Abby when she needed it, whether it was dealing with her mom or figuring out what to wear. Megan was the reason she had even applied to college, and it was Megan who found them a place to live with cheap rent they could both afford.

  When she finished getting ready, she closed her bedroom door softly behind her to watch for Lance.

  Chapter Eight

  Lance raised his hand to knock, but it came down on empty air, the door opening just before he could rap his knuckles against it. He looked down to see Abby standing in the doorway. She looked almost angelic with her hair down again and a light sheen of gloss on her smiling lips.

  “Megan’s sleeping,” she whispered. “I’d rather you didn’t wake her.”

  Lance let his hand drop. “Of course.” He pitched his voice low to match hers. “Hangover?”

  Abby pulled the door closed behind her, her smile growing wider. “Of course. Megan almost always has a hangover on the weekends.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Lance ran his hand down her arm, enjoying the feel of her soft skin beneath his palm, and linked their fingers together before dropping a kiss on her mouth. She tasted like strawberries today. Abby’s brows rose in surprise, but she didn’t say anything. “Ready?”

  At Abby’s nod, Lance led the way to his car, enjoying the fact that she didn’t try to pull her hand out of his grip. And when he opened the door for her, she didn’t even try to reach for the door first. Progress. Plus, holding her door allowed him to watch her pull her bare legs into the car one at a time. She was short, but she had killer legs. He liked that he could see them in her short shorts. Bermuda shorts and capris covered too much skin and just looked u
gly. And what was the deal with capris anyway? His mom and sisters wore them sometimes, but they just looked like pants that weren’t long enough. Why did girls wear those? They were just weird. Hopefully he wouldn’t run into that problem with Abby.

  So far, so good.

  The only drawback to her short shorts was that every time she’d been in his car, he’d had to restrain himself from running a hand from knee to thigh, wondering if her skin was as soft as it looked. Since she’d been shy of him, he held back his usual inclinations. He was used to moving a lot faster than this when he was attracted to a girl. If she wasn’t up for his pace, he usually just let her go. For some reason he didn’t want to analyze, he didn’t want to let Abby go. For her, he’d slow down, give her a little space and time to get used to him. He wanted to get to know her better. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to push the edges of her comfort zone.

  The kiss at the door might have been pushing things. But since he’d already crossed that line, he was confident she wouldn’t slap him for kissing her now. Pretty sure, anyway, and since she didn’t, that only proved him right.

  Lance buckled his seatbelt and started the car. Glancing at Abby, he noticed her playing with her lower lip.

  She dropped her hand in her lap and looked at him. “So, where are we going?”

  He maneuvered out of his parking spot before answering. “You don’t want to be surprised?”

  Abby shook her head. “I don’t like surprises.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  Abby paused for a moment before answering, like she needed to think about how to answer. “Let’s just say that in my experience, surprises are rarely good.” Her voice was light, but her face was troubled, like she was remembering some particularly nasty surprises.

  Lance thought about asking more, but decided he didn’t really want to start their date off with potentially heavy subjects. “Fair enough. I thought we’d go to the Peacock Lounge.”

  Abby scrunched her eyebrows and started playing with her lip again. “I haven’t heard of that. Where is it?”

  “It’s the restaurant in the Davenport Hotel. You haven’t been there?”

  Abby shook her head. “I’ve never had a reason to go there. I haven’t stayed at the hotel before or anything.”

  Lance laughed. “It’s a nice restaurant. You don’t have to stay at the hotel to eat there. And it’s a really nice historic hotel. You haven’t even gone to the Christmas Festival they host every year?”

  “No. Have you?”

  Lance nodded. “Yeah. I like to go see all the decorated trees. I usually go right after finals are over before I head home for Christmas break.”

  “Maybe I’ll check it out this year.”

  “You should. It’s great.” Lance wanted to say that he’d like to take her. But by December he’d be back in Denton working at his dad’s garage. No Christmas Festival at the Davenport for him.

  Sitting at a stop light, Lance gave in to his urge to feel Abby’s skin at last. He casually took his hand off the gear shift and dropped it on her knee. Her skin under his hand felt smooth and silky. She stiffened, so he didn’t move any higher, just swept his thumb back and forth over her knee. A glance at her out of the corner of his eye told him she was staring at him, but she didn’t say anything and didn’t push him away.

  The light turned green, and he had to take his hand back to shift gears. Once they got up to speed, instead of replacing his hand on her leg, he let it rest on the seat this time, next to her leg, just brushing against her with his pinky. She relaxed, accepting that small touch, so he pushed a little further by running the back of his hand up the outside of her leg.

  Abby squirmed. “Stop it, that tickles.”

  Lance rested his hand just above her knee again. “Better?”

  Licking her lips, she looked from his hand to his face. “I guess so.”

  He’d take it. He left his hand on her leg for the rest of the drive, only removing it when he needed to shift.

  It was progress. Slow and steady wins the race.

  Abby tilted her head back to admire the carved, vaulted ceiling of the Davenport’s lobby. Intricate pillars created natural aisles, dividing up comfortable seating areas of overstuffed couches and chairs, groupings of tables, and large potted plants around the room. Her awe at the space made her momentarily forget how unsettled Lance made her.

  She wasn’t used to this much focused attention. Especially not from someone so obviously popular and accustomed to getting what he wanted. After what Megan said about him last night, she was even more nervous. She liked him, against her better judgment. He was sweet and charming. But what did he want with someone like her?

  She didn’t know how to flirt. She was sarcastic and snarky, and some people mistook that for banter, but that was just her personality, not intentional attempts at seduction.

  She wasn’t polished and primped and pretty. Not that she thought she was ugly, but she was low maintenance and didn’t spend a lot of time and money on clothes and makeup.

  His hand went to the small of her back, gentle pressure guiding her toward the restaurant entrance situated in the far corner, and she had to suppress a shiver at the zip of warmth that shot down her spine.

  He’d started touching her the moment she’d walked out her door. His hand on her arm, the kiss, touching her leg in the car, and now his hand on her back. She was both thrilled and more nervous from all this touching. Did this kind of touching lead to other expectations? How did she feel about that? Sure, Megan had encouraged her to have some fun—and not get her heart broken when he didn’t call her the next day—but she’d never had a one-night stand before. Did she want to see what all the fuss was about? If she were going to, Lance seemed like a good candidate to try the experiment with.

  But could she actually handle the eventual feeling of abandonment? That was why she avoided dating for the most part. Sure, she told Megan she was too busy with school and work and keeping an eye on her mom in her spare time, but that was a convenient and believable excuse. Her biggest hangup was that everybody eventually left. Her dad left when she was little. Her brother left when she turned eighteen.

  Only her mom was still around, and she was … well, more dependent on Abby than the other way around.

  The only times she’d had sex, she’d grown attached to the guy, and the pain when things inevitably ended didn’t seem worth the minimal pleasure beforehand.

  So even though she was flattered by Lance’s attention and obvious interest, she knew it couldn’t go anywhere. Even without the rumors and his storied history as a player—which could be overblown, but his kisses lived up to the legend according to Megan—he would be leaving at the end of the summer to go back to Texas. She still had two more years left of school before completing her degree. There couldn’t be anything long term between them.

  At the very least she could enjoy a nice meal with Lance. She liked spending time with him and the way his hand felt against her skin, the warmth of his body close to hers. If this was going to be their last date, she at least wanted to have a nice time.

  The hostess led them to a table covered in a white tablecloth, with a black cloth napkin folded at each place and pulled out Abby’s chair for her. “Blake will be your server today. He’ll be with you in a moment.” She handed them their menus and left.

  Abby opened her menu, eyes widening slightly at the prices. “Have you eaten here before?”

  Lance looked up from his menu. “Once or twice. The food is good, and I figured it wouldn’t have the normal Sunday lunch crowds like the more casual places. Is this okay?”

  “It’s fine,” she rushed to reassure him. Better than fine, actually. “I just didn’t expect something so fancy for a lunch date.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t let me take you out to dinner, so I had to impress you with a fancy lunch date.” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Are you impressed?”

  His silliness helped her relax, and she smiled
at him. “Oh, very. You’re very impressive.”

  “That’s what she said.” His deadpan delivery made the joke even funnier than it should’ve been.

  Abby threw back her head and laughed long and hard. She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. “I can’t believe you just made a ‘that’s what she said’ joke in the middle of a date in an expensive restaurant.” A wide smile stretched across his face, and he obviously felt no remorse.

  Their waiter walked up and filled their water goblets, smiling at the hilarity written on their faces, but obviously having missed the joke. “Would you like to hear our specials?”

  At their nods, he rattled off the soup of the day as well as two entrée specials. Abby held back her grimace of distaste when he listed the seafood special, but thought the steak option sounded good. It was probably expensive, though. The waiter took their drink orders and left.

  Abby scanned the menu, trying to pick something. Maybe I should just get a salad. Her eyes went wide when she saw the cost of a salad. She could only guess how much the steak special cost if they charged that much for a salad.

  “Abby.” Lance’s voice was low, reclaiming her attention.

  She looked up. “Hmm?”

  “Relax. Pick something you think sounds good. Don’t worry about the price, okay?”

  Abby’s cheeks grew warm. How did he know what she was thinking? “Okay.” She let her gaze drift back to the menu, still trying to pick something that wouldn’t cost a complete fortune, but feeling like she could get more than soup or a salad.

  After a few moments they’d both closed their menus and laid them on the table. Lance reached for his water and took a drink. “So you already said you’re from here. Do your parents still live around here? Any siblings or are you an only child?”

  Abby wasn’t thrilled to talk about her family, so she picked the easiest question to answer and turned the question back on him. “Yup. A brother. What about you? Do you have any siblings?” If she asked more questions, maybe she could keep the attention on him long enough that they’d run out of time before delving too deeply into her background.