“You’re not in debt to me,” Cody replied, almost angrily. “I’m doing this because I want to—and I really enjoy your company.” He looked at me sideways. “It’s much more fun doing this stuff with someone.”
“So you really are just going to have an endless summer of gratification?”
He smiled widely. “It sounds even better when you say it like that.”
I shook my head, even though I was smiling at him.
“And then what? Will you look for a job after Labor Day?”
He shrugged, dismissing the subject. “I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
I huffed in annoyance. “Has anyone told you that you’re very evasive when you want to be?”
He looked surprised, then shifted uncomfortably. “Um, no. Not before today.”
“Well, you are.”
He didn’t reply, and I couldn’t help wondering about the possible reasons why.
“You’re not married, are you?” I asked, bluntly.
It seemed a reasonable question, particularly based on recent experience with a serious misreading of my douchebag ex-boss.
Cody’s eyebrows shot up and a loud laugh erupted from him.
“No! Definitely not married.”
“Kids?”
He shook his head.
“Jeez, Cody, you don’t make this easy. Do you have a girlfriend? Are you seeing anyone?”
His eyes met mine as I frowned at him.
“Only you,” he said, then picked up my hand and gently kissed my knuckles. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, happily.
Then one more thought occurred.
“Are you on parole?”
He grinned across at me. “Hmm, good question.”
“Are you going to answer it?”
“No, I’m not on parole.”
And then he muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t hear.
It had been a perfect weekend.
Almost perfect. Why the heck hadn’t Cody kissed me yet? I wanted to kiss him, but because he hadn’t tried, it made me think he just wanted to be friends, and that held me back from leaping on him. Gah! He was so confusing.
But now it was Monday, and I had to go find a job.
I was lucky to get called for interview by one of the small coffee shops where I’d left my résumé; happy to be offered work, but less happy because they could only give me two shifts a week: Mondays and Tuesdays, starting immediately.
There was one piece of good news: Wallman’s agreed to mail me a severance check. That meant I wasn’t completely destitute, although I seriously needed to think about moving out of my expensive apartment and finding somewhere cheaper. Just what I didn’t need; another upheaval in my life.
I didn’t hear from Cody all day, but every time my wrist rubbed against my apron, my new tattoo reminded me of him. I really hoped this wasn’t going to be something I’d end up regretting.
Toward the end of my shift, I was feeling rather sorry for myself. I hadn’t gone through four, long, boring years of college to become an accountant, only to be back waiting tables again. I was tired, and my whole body ached from the soles of my feet upward.
I was pulled from my gloomy wallowing when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked around surreptitiously to see if my manager was watching me before I checked the message.
It was Cody, and he was asking to meet up.
A dizzy happiness bloomed inside me, and I sent him the coffee shop’s address, saying I’d be off in half an hour. Then I hurried to the bathroom to survey the damage wreaked by a nine-hour shift.
Hmm, not too bad considering. Nothing a comb, lipgloss and quick squirt of perfume couldn’t fix. That would have to do. Besides, Cody had seen me in an unflattering wetsuit the day before—it didn’t get much worse than that.
I served a couple more customers before clocking out and collecting my purse from the tiny break room. When I came back, two of my new co-workers, college students Shelly and Rachel, were staring across the café and giggling behind the coffee maker; ogling Cody, who was scanning the room, looking for me.
“That boy is fine!”
“Oh, definitely hot. I’m going to talk to him.”
“Bitch, you are not! I saw him first.”
“Sorry, ladies,” I said with a smile, as I sailed past, “he’s taken.”
Disappointment twisted their faces, and they both shot me angry looks.
They were right, though: he did look fine, and I wondered if he’d dressed up for me.
He was wearing dark wash jeans that hung off his hips, and a white button down shirt. The contrast against his tan skin and black hair was stunning. He was so beautiful he could have made a fortune as a model. I wanted to capture the way he looked there and then, and keep it forever.
But when he saw me, a huge grin lit his face, and that was the memory I fixed in my mind. He walked toward me, and for a moment I thought he was going in for a hug, but then he slid his hands into his pockets and rocked on his feet, still smiling widely.
Throwing caution to the wind, I wrapped my arms around his neck and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. He looked so surprised, I wanted to burst out laughing. But instead I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the café.
“Just marking my territory,” I said to him.
His look of confusion was adorable.
“My co-workers were trying to decide which of them was going to hit on you. I thought I’d save you from them.”
He grinned down at me, and squeezed my hand.
“I think I need saving more often.”
“I’m sure you do!” I laughed. “God, I need a drink after the day I’ve had. There’s a bar across the street that still has happy hour. I’ll buy you a beer with my tip money. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
He shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “Can we just go for a coffee?”
“Are you serious? I’ve been smelling coffee all day. I’m craving a glass of ice-cold beer.”
“Um, I can’t go in a bar.”
“Why not? Don’t you drink? You can have a soda…”
He shook his head again. “No, it’s not that…”
“Oh shit! You are on parole, aren’t you!”
My eyes widened in panic.
He gave a small smile. “I don’t have fake ID.”
“What?”
“I’m not 21, Ava.”
“Oh.” I paused and looked up at him, taking in his smooth skin, and the faint promise of day-old scruff. “How old are you?”
His cheeks reddened and he stared at his shoes.
“I’m 18.”
What?
I was staring. I was definitely staring. My eyes swept up and down his body and came to rest on his beautiful face.
“Holy shit! You’re kidding me! I’m practically robbing the cradle!” I dropped his hand in shock. “Really? You’re only 18?”
He smiled nervously. “That’s why I want to go to Tijuana. You can drink there when you’re 18.”
I was stunned. I couldn’t believe that this fine hunk of man was four years younger than me. He seemed so mature; more mature than the college guys I’d dated, that was for sure.
I tried to laugh off my shock. “You must be the only 18-year-old who doesn’t have fake ID.”
“Never got around to it.”
We looked at each other awkwardly, unsure what to say.
“So, you haven’t been to college?”
“Nope.”
“And you live … do you live at home?”
He nodded. “Yeah, with my mom.”
Visions of creeping into his room to have my wicked way with him, then being interrupted by his mom filled my brain.
“Okay, this is weird,” I said, trying to get my head around the idea.
“It doesn’t have to be, Ava. Nothing’s changed.”
“Um, yeah it has! I’m dating a guy who isn’t old enough to enter a bar!”
He sur
prised me by grinning, making that darned dimple pop out.
“We’re dating?”
It was my turn to be horribly embarrassed.
“Oh, shit. That just slipped out. No, of course we’re not dating; we’re friends.”
His smile faltered.
“I’d like to take you on a real date, Ava. Let me take you to dinner, right now.”
I twisted my purse in my hands, confused and slightly annoyed.
“I’m still the same person I was 10 minutes ago,” he said, softly. When I didn’t respond, he sighed. “Or we can just be friends.”
Would it be so bad dating an 18-year-old? After all, I wasn’t that much of a drinker. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t have a beer if he came to my apartment.
But then I thought about what my sisters would say; and my dad. Oh God, what wouldn’t he say? I was a complete chicken shit and I needed time to think about it.
“I think we’re better off as friends,” I said, bluntly.
His shoulders slumped a fraction, and I felt horribly guilty for leading him on then refusing to see it through.
“We can still hang out,” I said brightly, then cringed at how fake I sounded.
“Sure,” he said, the smile not reaching his eyes.
If possible, I felt even worse now.
“I’d better go,” I said, feeling miserable and alone.
He reached out to touch my arm then seemed to think better of it.
“Let me take you to dinner, Ava,” he pleaded. “As friends. You’ve gotta be hungry after doing an all-day shift.”
“As friends?” I clarified.
“Yeah, whatever. Friends.”
Doubtful this was a good idea, I climbed in his truck, breathing in the smell of dust, old leather and Cody’s cologne that was already familiar, and I relaxed immediately.
“I like your truck,” I said. “It makes me feel safe?”
“Just what every guy wants to hear,” he said, shaking his head in mock sadness.
I smacked his arm lightly. “You know what I mean! It feels like a tank, like you could just drive through anything in this.”
“I’m still not letting you get behind the wheel,” he laughed, rehashing our argument from the day before. “You drive a Prius. It’s about a tenth the size of my truck.”
“Is not!”
I pretended to be annoyed, but there was something about Cody that wouldn’t let me stay angry with him. Besides, I wasn’t really mad. I wanted to be, because he hadn’t told me his age. It honestly hadn’t occurred to me that he could be so young. My friends from back home would tease me mercilessly, but that would be nothing compared to what my family would say.
A small voice of rebellion whispered, They don’t need to know.
Oh God, I was being so shallow and insecure—I really hated myself sometimes.
We pulled up outside a pizza parlor and he held open the door for me as we walked in. I couldn’t help noticing that the wait staff (including one obviously gay guy) were eyeing Cody with interest. I couldn’t blame them.
The hell I couldn’t! He was with me, friends or not.
We were shown to a table by a very attentive hostess who suddenly seemed to have developed an interest in Silverado pickups. I counted to twenty, then sent her away to summon a waitress.
I realized Cody had no clue that she was hitting on him. Even though he seemed so confident, he was actually rather shy around women. Now I knew he was only 18, it made a little more sense. Or maybe not. What was wrong with the girls at his high school? Were they all blind with no taste for hot guys?
And why was he so different with me? Why had he given me that note when he’d been playing with Oscar in the rain?
While we waited for our pizzas, Cody pushed a thick envelope toward me.
“What’s this?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why do people ask that when all they have to do is open the envelope?”
“Smart ass,” I snapped, making him laugh.
The first piece of paper I pulled was headed, International Star Registry.
My eyes shot up to meet his.
“Oh my God! Did you do this?”
“Uh yeah, I did. You’re not mad at me again, are you?” he asked, warily.
My eyes got a little dewy. “You really named a star for me?”
His shoulders relaxed and he smiled. “Yeah, I got one for each of us. They’re in the Andromeda constellation, because, um, ‘Andromeda’ means ‘Princess’. I got one for your mom, too. But I didn’t know her name, so her star is ‘Ava’s mom’. I hope that’s okay. And we got neighboring stars … so you can’t get rid of me now.”
I couldn’t stop stupid tears leaking from my eyes and making my mascara run.
“Oh, look at the state I’m in,” I choked out. “I must look like a raccoon.”
“Yeah, but a really cute raccoon.”
He scooted around the booth and pulled me into a hug.
There was nothing boyish about the way he held me, or the kisses he dropped into my hair as I continued to make a wet patch on his shirt. His arms were strong and warm, his body firm beneath the brushed cotton, the muscles in his thigh bunched up against my leg.
Eventually, I managed to stop crying, and gratefully accepted a handful of paper napkins from him.
“God, I’m so sorry,” I sniffed. “I’m really embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” he murmured, stroking my hair.
“It’s just been a really strange few days. But this is one of the best parts. Thank you so much for doing this, Cody.”
I pulled away from him slightly, and he dropped his arms. I immediately missed the feel of his body against mine. I asked myself again, would it be so wrong to date Cody?
The arrival of the pizzas provided a good distraction, and I dug in hungrily. Cody seemed to prefer to watch me eat rather than feed himself. I was too hungry to care.
“Well, you’ve organized three awesome items on our summer wish list, I guess it’s my turn now,” I said, contemplating whether or not I could eat a fifth slice of pizza.
“Are we going to be jumping out of an airplane?” he teased.
“No chance—no matter how much you try to sweet-talk me.” I paused. “Don’t look at me like that. You make me feel like a cougar.”
“You can dig your claws into me anytime.”
“Oh, God! That is such a cheesy line!”
He shrugged and grinned. “I’m 18. It’s what you expect, isn’t it?”
“You don’t have to prove it!”
“Why not?”
“You’re such a guy! I guess it’s true that boys mature more slowly than girls.”
“You like it really. Maybe I’ll stay 18 forever.”
“Nobody can do that. You have to grow up sometime.”
“Nah. I think I’ll skip that phase.”
I rolled my eyes, and stuffed a slice of his pepperoni in my mouth.
I immediately regretted it, because the pupils of his pale blue eyes dilated, darkening with a look that definitely wasn’t child-like. He licked his lips, then shook his head and rubbed his temples.
“Headache?” I teased.
He threw me a look that showed he didn’t think I was funny.
“Okay, truce. How about we shoot down to TJ for the day … if your mama lets you,” I teased him.
He grinned widely.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not saying I’ll get high, because I don’t do drugs, but if you want to get hammered, I’ll be your drinking buddy.”
“God, I love y— I love that idea!” he said, happily. “When can we go?”
“Well, I have to work tomorrow, but I’m free the rest of the week. But seriously, won’t your mom think it’s kind of weird, you going off with an older woman?”
He smirked. “I think she’ll cope.”
“Well, alrighty. Tijuana here we come.”
We raised our water glasses and drank to Mexico.
We’
d debated on whether or not to drive to TJ. If we went on the bus, the wait at the border would be less than an hour; if we drove ourselves, it could be as much as three hours.
Cody decided that he was taking his truck. I decided that I was driving my Prius, and for a while it looked as though we’d been traveling separately. In the end, Cody suggested we flip a coin. I won, and he took it really well—for a guy.
But then we decided that it would be nice to be able to have a drink together, and that we’d take the bus after all.
I said I’d pick him up so we could drive to the terminal together, but he was oddly reluctant to give me his address, saying he’d come to my apartment and leave his truck outside. That seemed so ridiculous that I called him on it.
“And your mom has definitely agreed to this? I’m not going to be accused of kidnapping or trying to corrupt a minor.”
His eyes glittered dangerously and he leaned across to whisper in my ear.
“I’d like to be corrupted by you—and there’s nothing minor about me.”
I couldn’t help a guilty shiver of pleasure shooting up my spine as I struggled to play it cool.
“Seriously, has your mom agreed to this?”
I was only half teasing, but Cody looked amused.
“You worry too much. Yes, I’ve told her I’m going. Yes, I’ve told her who I’m going with.”
I gnawed my lip, still not sure I was convinced.
“Besides,” he said, “she’s seen pictures of you, so she knows you’re too cute and tiny to lead me astray … even if you are a cougar.”
“Excuse me?” I gasped.
I didn’t know how he managed to be complimentary and offensive in one sentence, especially in a way that had me laughing and choking at the same time.
He sat back and grinned.
“I’ve told my mama all about you.”
“You have?”
“Sure. She wanted to know where I keep disappearing to, so I told her.” His amusement softened. “She worries about me a lot.”
“Am I going to meet her?”
What on earth was I doing? The whole ‘meet the parents’ thing was not me at all.
“One day,” he answered.
“How about tomorrow when I give you a ride?”
He laughed. “Fine, come to the house. But she won’t be awake. She works night shifts.”