by Roe, Amy
No walls, like Mom said during our safe sex talk.
If this doesn’t work, it won’t be because I was too weak to try.
I shoot out a text to Brady.
It’s Saturday. What time are you coming to get me?
It takes him a few minutes to respond.
Are you serious? I’ll be there in twenty.
Eek! He’s all about action. I’d better watch what I suggest.
Nah. You need your rest after the beating you took tonight.
I have never taken a beating, babe. I hold the title. I win every fight.
Babe? He called me babe.
I’ll pick you up at six for dinner, okay? Sweet dreams, Reese.
I’m pathetic. I can’t even text because I’m so flustered. I type out a few texts and delete them. Finally, I decide to be bold. No walls.
Brady…
Reese…
You kiss like a god. ☺
I pull my blanket over my head like a five-year-old hiding from the boogie monster as I wait for a reply. It’s almost immediate.
Reese, you taste like heaven.
Oh…
Against my better judgment, I call Chelsea and inform her of what happened last night. Needless to say, she’s ecstatic that I’ve abandoned my plan.
I’m overwhelmed and confused about how I’m going to handle Brady Fisher. I don’t believe I can keep up with him in any aspect. When I voiced my concern about this to Chelsea, she agreed, which didn’t make me feel any better. In her defense though, she offered me some advice. I responded as if I was appalled while I fired up my Mac.
“I don’t mean to scare you, Reese, but Brady is experienced.”
“Thank you for that, Chelsea. I had no idea.”
“Well, I’m not saying that you have to do anything with him, but I am telling you that he will be expecting it. He’s not exactly used to being told no. He might wait a little while. If you are ready, there is this thing called Google. Use it, babe. What you don’t know, you can find there.”
“Oh my God, Chelsea!”
“I’m serious. There is no reason for you not to know what to do when you can look up anything and everything on the Internet. You might be inexperienced, but you are not ignorant, Reese. Do what you want, but don’t even mess with Brady if you aren’t ready for the challenge that comes with him.”
I choose black slacks and a white button-up shirt to wear to dinner with Brady, and I glance in the mirror. I look like I’m going to church instead of out with a guy. I pull the shirt off and throw it on my bed. This is my first real date, so it’s no wonder why I can’t even dress myself. I’ve tagged along with Chelsea before, but never has a guy come to pick me up and taken me to dinner alone. I’m kinda freaking out.
I didn’t tell my mom or Chelsea about the date tonight. My mom is out of town with the girls from work for the weekend. Chelsea would freak the hell out and probably have me at a salon, getting waxed and buffed.
I’m on my own, and so far, I suck at this. For a moment, I think about what Chelsea wears when she goes out.
I’m thinking way too hard about this. We’re going on a casual date and then to The Pit.
I kick off the slacks and slide on a pair of jeans. I shove my hand in my closet and pull out a long-sleeved pink North Face shirt. Done.
I look back in the mirror and feel a whole lot more like myself.
I make my way downstairs to wait for Brady, and to my surprise, my dad is home. That’s odd.
“Hey,” I say as I pass him in the kitchen.
He pops his head around the refrigerator door and looks at me, puzzled. “Hey.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I set my purse on the counter.
“There are no groceries in here.” He closes the refrigerator door and starts opening the cabinets, rummaging through the boxes and cans.
The funny thing is, there is no more or less food in the house than on any other day. He’s just never here to notice it. I find it kind of odd that when he is here, my mom is out of town.
Coincidence?
I don’t think so.
“Should I order us a pizza?” he asks as he opens the drawer where we keep all the to-go menus.
I slip my shoes on since Brady should be here any minute. “I’m going out actually.” Just as I say it, my phone beeps with a text. I walk over to the bar and pull it out of my purse.
Dad leans against the counter, dropping the menus down, and he looks at me. “Oh, okay. With Chelsea? What time will you be home?”
I’m looking down at the text from Brady, letting me know that he is in the driveway, as Dad questions me. I slowly glance back up at him in shock. I honestly don’t remember the last time that my dad asked me where I was going, what I was doing, or who I was going to be with.
That’s two suspicious things that he has done tonight.
First, he’s at home, and now, he’s showing interest in me.
“Um…no. With Brady Fisher. I don’t know when I’ll be home. I mean, by curfew, of course.”
I’m confused, and we stand there, looking at one another. This is new for both of us.
“Kyle’s friend? Does your mom know that you’re going out with a boy?” he asks in a defeated tone. He seems somewhat confused. He grabs the menus, shoves them into the drawer, and then looks back at me.
“I guess not. He’s here. I kinda need to go.”
Dad takes a couple of steps toward me. “Where are you guys going?” He has serious concern in his expression that I haven’t seen in years.
“Dinner and then to meet Chelsea and Connor,” I lie—kind of. I have no doubt they will be at The Pit tonight. I’m sure we’ll bump into them.
“Okay, um…have fun.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
With that, I open the door to leave. I don’t get far. Brady is standing on the other side. He’s smiling politely, and it’s not the cocky smile that I love. I stand there, looking up at him, anxious. I don’t want to introduce him to my dad.
But I don’t have to because my dad takes it upon himself.
He approaches us and stands beside me. “Hi Brady.” He extends his hand toward Brady.
“Hi, Jack.” He shakes my dad’s hand and nods his head.
I look up at my dad.
He looks at me and smiles, taking a step back. “Have fun and behave, kids.”
“Bye, Dad.” I step toward Brady, forcing him to step back.
He chuckles and leads me to his car.
When he reaches the passenger door, he holds it open for me. I try not to let the stupid smile wanting to take over my face show itself. I slide into the seat and notice my dad looking out of the kitchen window. I wave quickly and buckle my seat belt.
Sitting quietly, I check out Brady’s black Charger. It’s really nice.
As Brady slides into the driver’s seat, he looks at me for the briefest moment. “You look nice, as always.”
“Thank you. So do you, even with your rainbow-colored eye.”
He rubs his finger across the bruised area.
I mentally scold myself, Shut up, Reese. You’re a babbling fool. “Um…I like your car. Where are we going?”
He glances at me with that smile that I love. “Thanks. I like my car, too. I thought you could choose where we go for dinner.”
After a little back-and-forth discussion about where to eat, we settle on a local pizza joint.
Small talk fills the time as we browse the menu and wait for our drinks.
Once we’ve ordered, it is game on. I want to know so much about Brady.
“What’s your story anyway? Surely, something crazy is going on under all that perfect your family appears to be.”
He chuckles. “We’re far from perfect, but I can’t say that there’s much crazy going on. I guess we are just pretty average. We fuss and fight like any other family. My mom and dad have been together forever. My older brother is off at college. He’s studying business. I’m sure he’ll take over th
e gym when my parents are ready to retire. We do a family vacation every year, and my parents do one alone every year, too. Um…for fun, we cook out on the grill and swim. That’s about it.”
“Wow. Your family is like the freaking Waltons.”
“Not exactly, but I don’t have anything to complain about. How about you? What’s your story? I know Kyle is in the Army. What about the rest of your family?”
“Well, my parents have been together forever. My older sister and her husband live in Chicago, and they are expecting their first child, so I will be an aunt soon. That’s kinda cool, I guess. Like you said, you know about Kyle. We used to do a family vacation every year, but we didn’t this year because it’s just me now, so…yeah. For fun, we leave each other alone. That’s about it.”
While Brady takes in that info dump, I change the subject. “So, how do the fights work?”
“Uh…” It takes him a moment to transition to the new conversation. “If people want to fight, they show up. We do rounds, and the winner goes on to the next round until there’s only one left.”
“Oh. Who decides the winner?”
“People either surrender, or whoever is running the fights that night calls it. If anyone throws a punch to the face, he automatically loses that fight.”
“Seems like an odd rule when fighting.” I point to his busted eye. “Did the guy who did that lose?”
“Yeah, he did. Imagine how quickly our parents would start asking questions if we went home with busted-up faces every weekend.”
“Right.” I nervously look around. First dates are awkward.
My head snaps back to Brady when I realize he has no idea that this is my first date—ever. I almost blurt it out before thinking better of it. I don’t want him to know that I’m so lame that I’ve never been on an official date until now, and I definitely don’t want him to act differently.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, concerned.
“No. Nothing at all.” I smile, hoping to reassure him.
As we eat our pizza and laugh, I find myself feeling less like I’m on a date and more like I’m hanging out with a friend. Brady is easy to be around. Other than boxing, he rides dirt bikes with his friends and family, and surprisingly, he hates watching anything on TV. He thinks it’s a waste of time. This information kinda sucks because I am a reality TV junkie, and I love horror movies.
“Do you want to go see a movie?” Brady asks as we walk to his car after dinner.
I shrug my shoulders. “You said you hate TV.”
“I’ll go to a movie if you want. The choice is totally yours.” He opens the car door for me.
“I just want to be able to talk and stuff…” My voice trails off, and I bite my lip. I know that came out wrong.
With him standing on one side of the door and me on the other, our faces are just a few inches apart.
He arches his eyebrow at me. “Stuff, huh? Like, what kind of stuff?”
His low voice causes that heavy warm feeling—the one I really, really like—to begin down below.
I drop my gaze to the ground and slide into his car.
“Do you wanna go to The Pit until we decide on something better to do?” he asks as we pull out of the parking lot.
I nod.
Once at The Pit, everyone flocks around us, wanting to check out Brady’s eye.
After everyone disperses, he leads me to the back of someone’s pickup truck. He puts his hands on my waist even though I try to stop him, and he gives me a boost up onto the tailgate before settling beside me.
His friend puts a beer in his hand.
“Nah, I’m good,” he tells his friend before winking at me.
I’m happy that he declined.
We sit there, listening to music, as the guys talk about the fights from the night before. At one point, Brady takes my hand in his, intertwining our fingers, and he rests our clasped hands on my thigh.
After about forty-five minutes, he leans in. “Do you want to leave?”
“We can stay.”
“Are you sure? We can go to a movie now if you want.” He lets go of my hand and jumps off the back of the truck.
“I’d rather stay here.”
Standing in front of me, he slides his hands from my knees up to my thighs and kneads them softly. His eyes burn into me. I’m aware of the rise and fall of my chest as I breathe faster. Instinctively, I open the space between my knees, inviting Brady to come closer to me. He accepts and then quickly seals his lips over mine.
Yes! I have been waiting for this since we got here.
He has a tight grip on my thighs as he kisses me. One of his hands moves to the back of my neck, and he pulls me closer. I ache for Brady to touch me in ways I have never before wanted to be touched. I get it now—how things can go way too far, way too fast.
Every time that I’ve made out with a boy, I’ve been the one to stop before things could go too far. But with Brady, I have no desire to stop—none. He could lay me back on the bed of this truck and take me now if he wanted to.
I slide my hands up his arms and pause on his biceps because the dips and bulges feel amazing under my fingertips.
Oh Lord! I feel like I do when I watch a steamy sex scene in a movie—times a billion. A fireworks show is going off inside my body, and it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.
“Hey, mind letting her up for a breath?”
I peek out of one eye and see Chelsea. She jumps up onto the tailgate, landing next to me.
Brady covers her face with his palm, and I feel his smile against my lips as he slows the kiss.
Chelsea squeals, pulling his hand away. Being the pervert that she is, she places it on my boob. Now, I’m squealing into his mouth. He slides his hand, so his fingers are splayed over my side, but his palm is most definitely still on my boob. Nonetheless, he is touching me there—and I don’t mind one bit.
He pulls his lips away from mine, and I wipe under his bottom lip with my thumb. His wet lips look good.
“Sorry.” My voice is soft.
I’m distracted now because Chelsea is right next to me, watching us. She’s never seen me like this.
Brady sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Then, he leans in close to my ear and whispers, “You taste so fucking good, babe.”
Oh. I clench my core tight, trying to get some relief from the pain that leaves me feeling desperate for more.
I turn my head toward Chelsea, mentally begging her not to say or do anything to embarrass me any more than I already am.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” Brady pats my thigh and then takes a step back.
I nod my head. He heads toward a group of his friends.
“Whoa. I see what you were talking about. He’s pretty intense.” Her eyes widen as she watches him walk away from us. She turns and looks at me. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
I knew that was coming. “Well, actually, Brady took me out to dinner. Um…and then he asked me if I wanted to go see a movie, but—”
A smile spreads across her face. “You little hussy! You love going to the movies. You just wanted to get your hands on him.”
I shake my head and try to hide my guilty smile. “Shut up. Please don’t embarrass me in front of him.”
She throws her arm over my shoulder and pulls me close. “I won’t. But that was some pretty intense making-out you two had going on. Thank God for this.” She pats my arm where my birth control implant is, and then she leans to the side and hides behind Connor who just joined us.
I reach out to playfully smack her arm, but I hit Connor instead.
“Ouch! Damn! What did I do?” Connor whines.
Returning, Brady holds out a beer to me. I take it from him, and he turns around, slipping himself between my legs and leaning back on the tailgate. He puts his elbows on my thighs and lays his back on my chest.
“Am I hurting you?” He tips his head up to look at me and tucks his hands under my knees.
I sha
ke my head because I can’t seem to speak. Finally, he directs his attention to a guy playing his guitar a few feet away. Brady starts singing the song.
He sounds good!
I recognize the song as “Play It Again.” Brady might not be Luke Bryan, but he’s not too bad.
I put my beer down then lay my arms over his shoulders and rest my hands on his chest, moving with him as he sways. I don’t think my smile is ever going to leave my face.
After the song, he doesn’t sing again, but I will certainly be asking for a private show very soon.
Willpower, do not fail me tonight, please.
Reese and I have been at The Pit for a few hours, and I already want to leave. I want to be alone with her. I asked her several times if she’d like to go to the movies, and she was quick to decline each time. I can’t help but wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. This is going to be harder than I imagined. Something—no, everything tells me that it will be so worth it, too.
Reese looks good, smells good, and tastes every bit as good as she did last night. I can’t keep my hands to myself because of it. As long as she responds the way she has been, I have no intentions of being too well behaved.
Chelsea and I exchange looks, signaling that we will talk tomorrow about tonight’s events. I haven’t looked at my phone in hours, and it dawns on me that I have no idea what time it is.
I hit the button, bringing my phone to life. It’s eleven fifty, and my curfew is at midnight. “Shit!”
And there is a text from my dad.
Hope you’re having a nice time. Midnight curfew. Don’t forget.
My dad is apparently interested in me all of a sudden, and he’s home, knowing I’m with a guy.
Double shit! This is not good.
“What’s wrong?” Brady asks.
“I’m sorry, but can you take me home? I told my dad I’d be home by midnight.”
He looks at his phone and then up to me. “That’s in ten minutes.”