Table of Contents
Prologue~Monday Morning
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Epilogue
Need more Wilson & Max?
Wilson Mooney
Eighteen at Last
a novel by
Gretchen de la O
Copyright © 2012 Gretchen de la O
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events,
real people, or real locales are used fictitiously.
Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.
ISBN: 0-9836658-2-6
ISBN-13:978-0-9836658-2-3
Printed in the U.S.A.
First Edition, November, 2012
Edited by Tiffany Barkman Grayson
Original Art and cover designed by Eunice Ortegón
My Shout-outs…
Wilson’s Beta Readers: Becky, Debbie, Karley, Suzanne: Thank you for your time and input. It means the world to me that you care about the characters within these pages as much as I do. I am humbled by your support and grateful for your time.
Tiffany: Thank you for having my back! Your expertise and handle on the English language is amazing. Thank you for bringing coherence to my story and humorously reminding me that when it was really good, I lost my handle on the use of grammar. You are such a generous person and I hope you’ll have me for all the novels waiting to come alive.
Eunice: You have an amazing talent. I am so lucky to have you. You never cease to amaze and dazzle me with your vision. You are one of the most loving, cooperative, and giving people I have ever met. Your talent, love, and goodness truly radiate from your core. I am honored and very lucky to have you. The cover is brilliant!
Becky: Well, Sis, we made it through another book. I don’t know what I could say here that you don’t already know. Through thick and thin, through frustration and fun, Wilson and Max live on—not only in my head, but they skip around in yours too. Without you, I truly don’t know if this book would exist. Thank you for everything you give, everything you do, and everything you are. You are my rock, my memory keeper, and my soul sister!
My Family: Ed, Jared, Kyle, Nate, and my Mom (Grandma K): Thank you for being a supportive husband, loving children, and a caring mom/grandma. Thank you for the times you had to forgive my lack of being the domestic goddess when I should have been, and the preoccupied mother I shouldn’t have been. Thanks for telling me when you needed to be with me and for the times you let me be. Beyond it all—Jared, Kyle, and Nate—I hope, if nothing else, that I taught you nothing is ever beyond your reach when you let your heart follow its calling. I love you all so very much and am so blessed to have each and every one of you in my family.
“What the caterpillar calls the end…
the rest of the world calls a butterfly.”
Lao Tzu
Dedicated in loving memory to my dear friend Dorothy
Prologue~Monday Morning
I grabbed a green Expo marker from my desk and decided to stop worrying about Wilson walking through my door. I hated having to wait to see her. I kept visualizing the way her body moved through my room—the curve of her hips swaying against the open space, her glowing blue eyes speaking secrets, and her loose blonde curls bouncing against her shoulders as her aroma clawed seductively through my body. I felt the need to touch her warm skin swell below my belt. Shit, not good—Queen of England… dead puppies… Margaret Thatcher… Margaret Thatcher… Margaret Thatcher… Margaret Thatcher. Fuuuck, come on—not now. Please, not now.
I spun around to the whiteboard, making sure to keep the tent in my Levi’s out of sight. The last thing I needed was for any of my students to come in and notice it. Pressing the marker to the whiteboard, I scribbled out that night’s assignments. I made sure it was just enough reading to cover the required sixty minutes of homework, and that the questions were challenging enough for Wilson to play devil’s advocate with me later.
That’s what turned me on about her: no matter what the subject, she always found a way to make me see her side of it. It was refreshing, to say the least; finally, someone so beautiful yet still able to debate even the most obviously lopsided of subjects. Don’t get me wrong, she was wickedly sexy too, and I could never wait for the part where we challenged each other because, whether I won or lost, we would always end up making out. She knew what turned me on, and I knew what made her go crazy. I loved watching her body react to what I did. How her hips would roll and thrust, speeding steadily against my fingers; how irresistible she was when her breath would ripple across my skin; and how she’d moan and bite her bottom lip before she’d explode. I liked how uninhibited we were with each other. She discovered how to rock my world, and quickly became really good at it.
The smell was pungent and the ink wet as the lines of my letters dried. Damn it, I picked the wrong pen. The odorless ones worked best. I looked down at the end of the tray and noticed the good markers were stacked there in a line. Wilson must have put them that way before she’d left for Aspen. I’m so fucking torn. How can I battle or change everyone’s expectations? Legally, I know I shouldn’t go out with her—she’s one of my students. God knows I’ve tried to avoid it. Hell, I’ve fought these feelings every day I’ve seen her. But when everything in my gut is telling me it’s right, how can it be wrong?
When I left early on Friday I was dreading letting yet another weekend go by where I didn’t have the balls to make a move on Wilson, stressing about the fact that I wanted to be with her and knowing that I couldn’t have her. I’d hoped that going to Aspen would help me keep my mind off the whole situation.
Who would have known I’d be coming back Sunday night with a whole new story—one with Wilson wanting me too? I was a changed man. I still didn’t know how the whole thing happened. Everything seemed so fast, so perfect. One minute I was hanging out with my family, the next I was at Cindy Browler’s cabin with Wilson.
When I found her in that bathroom and saw how I’d broken her heart, something took over my reasoning. All I wanted to do was heal her, hold her, make her see how much I wanted her. My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it in my ears. It was strange—I was scared and calm all at the same time. I didn’t want to fuck a
nything up, and the thought of her crying because I was too scared to act on my feelings tore me up. I couldn’t help it—when she pushed me away, something clicked and I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to lose her. I had to fight for something I didn’t even know I could attain. Damn, she was irresistible; and, man, she tasted so good. It took everything I had to hold back with her.
She’s so perfect. I still can’t believe she’s my girlfriend. If I die tomorrow, I have to admit, I’ll die happy.
But what if it’s too perfect? Quit doubting fate. For fuck’s sake, I took her home and my mom loves her; my whole family is crazy about her. Wilson likes me, that’s all that matters. She wants me as much as I want her, that’s gotta mean something. She wants to be with me and it’s so hard to wait.
Sometimes I can’t believe Wilson’s only seventeen. She seems so much older. She lives beyond all the bullshit other girls her age seem to be caught up in. She’ll be eighteen in less than a month. What the hell’s a month?
Okay, just power through today without making eye contact, it’ll be fine. Take one step at a time. Make it through this class and then the rest of the day will be cake.
The door swung open and high-pitched voices entered the room. Shit, there’s Cindy—don’t look at her. I snatched the eraser and started to rub the whiteboard Wilson had cleared on Friday. What in the hell am I doing? Don’t look stupid erasing nothing.
I noticed Wilson still hadn’t walked through the door. Maybe coming to class today was just too much for her. Yeah, she needs time. I can’t expect her to walk in here and keep it together—hell, I can’t. I dropped the dry eraser into the tray. What would make this go fast enough to make it worth me being here? Well, if she decides to show up today—that would make the whole day totally worth it.
Shit, there’s the bell, I thought as I turned around and saw all the girls chatting with each other. I pushed my fingers up through my hair, brushing it off my forehead. I didn’t want it in my eyes. At least I wasn’t sporting a tent in my Levi’s anymore.
Where is she?
I cleared my throat and completely avoided making eye contact with Cindy or Joanie.
“Okay, okay. Time to take your seats—that was the bell, people,” I attempted in a relaxed tone.
“How was your weekend, Mr. Goldstein?” a voice sang from the back of the room.
Shit, what am I going to say? Keep it short and to the point.
“I had a nice weekend.” Perfect—a simple enough answer to keep it vague; gotta avoid saying too much.
I glanced at Cindy. She was leaning into Jacky, whispering something into her ear. My throat felt like a desert. Suddenly I couldn’t swallow enough to dampen the cactus stuck below my larynx.
“What was so nice about it?” Victoria Morgan shouted from the back row.
As I looked over the room I could feel my face heat up and my heart pound. I looked down at my desk, dragging the tips of my fingers across the grooved, aged surface before I walked around the corner of it and propped myself squarely in the middle, facing the front of the classroom.
“Well, before I tell you about my weekend, how about you tell me about yours, Miss Morgan? Hmm?” I changed the focus.
“Well, mine was boring; I went with my boyfriend to see Angels and Devils, the stupidest movie ever,” Victoria spat. Several students agreed in rhythmic whoops and hollers.
“Alright, ladies,” I was working to settle the room when I heard the door scrape across the worn tile floor. I looked up and caught my breath—she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. My heart hammered in my chest. The blood in my scalp rushed through my ears and down the back of my neck. I felt my mouth water with the memory of tasting her. My hands perspired, and every last drop of blood in my body instantly collected between my legs.
Wilson had made it to class, breathing heavily, as if she’d sprinted from across campus. Her magical, blue eyes darted around the room. I noticed she paused on Cindy and Jacky before shifting to Joanie. Finally, her eyes tracked the tile floor and she seduced me slowly with her expression. She pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth as she preoccupied herself with making her way to her seat. Her backpack skimmed her shoulders as she pulled it off and slid it under her desk. Her white shirt was unbuttoned just enough for me to see the exposed swell of her breasts, teasing the pounding pressure in my pants. I’d better not stand up.
“I think it’s your turn now, Mr. Goldstein; why don’t you tell us what was so nice about your weekend?” Cindy smirked. I hope nobody noticed how hard I swallowed before I looked at Cindy then dropped my eyes to the tile floor.
“Well—” I said before I cleared the frog in my throat, “I spent the weekend in Aspen hanging out with my family and friends.”
I looked right at Cindy to make sure she knew that was the end of my story. Her eyes narrowed, conveying the idea that she wasn’t done with pushing me to answer the question. I guess Jacky felt the same way—she gave a wicked smile before she leaned over to Cindy and whispered into her ear.
“So you didn’t do anything else?” Cindy prodded as she glared at me and pushed Jacky away.
I felt a surging heat ripple across my skin. I knew she was challenging me, squeezing to get me to admit I’d been at her cabin over the weekend. Cindy’s sneaky, conniving plot to blackmail me into giving her an “A” in my class had begun. Well, I wasn’t going to let her win.
“No, nope, that was pretty much it,” I replied as I stood up from my desk. The excitement below my belt had disappeared and instantly I knew this was going to be an assault I was going to have to redirect.
“Oh, because who would go to Aspen for the weekend and not at least go skiing? You had to have done something more than hang out. Come on, Mr. Goldstein, give us some details. You’re always telling us to be clear, concise, and detailed.” Cindy smirked as she turned and looked at Wilson.
Voices rumbled as some students chanted in agreement, while others groaned in frustration. Cindy had taken the first shot, but I’d already decided I wasn’t going to engage.
Chapter One
My body sank into the seat and it felt like an elephant had sat on my lap; the muscles in my neck fought to swallow, and my stomach twisted with excitement as Max clutched my hand. It felt like forever before the weighty animal decided to haul its big ass off my body. Finally, a month later, we were in the air and on our way back to Aspen. But this time it was just Max and me; his family had invited us to their cabin for winter break. His mom had asked us the weekend Cindy, my roommate, took me to Aspen to learn how to ski. But instead of skiing, I’d tanked it down a bunny slope and cracked my head open.
That was also the weekend I discovered how Max truly felt about me. I’ll just call it “The Weekend of Firsts.” Our first kiss, our first make-out session, and my first love. It was also at the end of that weekend that Cindy and I got into our first huge fight. Okay, well, it was probably totally wrong of me to drop the F-bomb on her, but I had reached the end of my rope with her trying to pressure me into admitting that I had a crush on Max. Believe me, she was the school’s Rumor Miller, and the absolute last thing I needed was her big fat mouth broadcasting anything about me and my government teacher.
Take that first Monday back from Aspen—you know, the day she was in our dorm room with my cell phone and a text from Max on the screen? I really don’t know if she’d seen my phone, but from the moment I walked into Max’s classroom, daggers shot from her eyes. I literally felt like I had to duck to avoid being maimed. There are days when she rolls her eyes so far up in her head she looks like she is suffering from a seizure. She is so conniving, I can never tell if she knows something or not. Some days she looks right through me like she sees exactly what Max and I are doing and other days she can be flat out vacant, like I’m not even there.
I glanced over at Max in the seat next to me; he turned my way and his onyx-black hair fell across his forehead. The pointy ends tangled in his eyelashes before he pushed th
em back out of his face. His mythical green eyes commanded the butterflies low in my body to respond, and like always, they obeyed. His smile stretched invitingly across his white teeth, making me lose my breath. He was unbelievably good at getting me with just a look. He leaned into me and we both tasted the excitement of a trip together where we weren’t going to have to sneak around.
“Happy Birthday, Wilson,” he whispered against my lips. “Sorry we had to fly out on Christmas morning.” He abandoned my mouth and his eyes danced with mine. Mmm, he’s soooo hot.
His apology was an acknowledgement that this was my first Christmas without my grandparents; he knew it was going to be hard for me. But honestly, for the first time in my life I wouldn’t have to compete with Jesus Christ; and Max claimed he finally had a reason to celebrate December twenty-fifth. Because you have to admit: if it came down to a popular vote, Jesus would win.
I understood the hugely lopsided scale of popularity. Christ saved the entire human race from hell and damnation, and well, me—I saved my virginity until my eighteenth birthday. I couldn’t compete with that. Luckily I didn’t have to; the only person I had to win over was Max. Fortunately, it didn’t take a burning bush or turning water into wine to sway him. A slight smile from where I sat was enough.
“I told you last night, I don’t mind; besides, I am with you. That’s all I want,” I whispered, pressing my hand against his chest. His heart pounded fast.
“Well, that’s not all you want.” He smirked, causing his eyes to glisten with steaminess. Helloooo, he could say that over and over again to me. He’s totally right, it’s not all I want.
Today was my eighteenth birthday and we had agreed to wait to go “all the way” until I became a legal adult. Funny, I didn’t feel any older than I was a month ago, but who was I to argue? Max was a gentleman, something most guys my age weren’t. It wasn’t like he was an older, creepy guy; he was only twenty-two. Four years was nothing in the realm of today’s dating. He still wanted me to go to college and have all the experiences he’d had. Of course, with the death of my grandparents and after all the legal stuff, I was hoping I’d be left with enough funds to go to a local community college and hang onto my grandparents’ house.
Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last Page 1