“Damn,” I say when it does. She looks at her leg then up to me, and smiles, leaving her skirt in place—just where I like it. I pull the collar of my sweater up into my teeth and bite as I close the door. She giggles, probably because she thinks I’m playing, but with the rush she just sent through me with one glimpse of her bare skin, I may have just chewed a hole through the threads of my shirt.
I climb into my side, and in my overzealous hurry to get to the park—I squeal the tires while backing out of the driveway.
“Sorry,” I say through gritted teeth. I need to calm down. I glance at her, and I can see she’s smiling at me, at how nervous I am. At least I can make her smile.
We drive through campus and then out of town about fifteen miles until we get to a small forest preserve area. They rent boats here. I should bring her back again during the day. But tonight wasn’t really about boats. The lot is empty—which is what I had hoped for—but suddenly, now that I’m putting the car in park, and the dim lights are all that’s illuminating the walkway to the playground and the hill of grass, the fact that we are completely alone has my sweater choking me, and my body burning up. That was the plan, though. Stars, romance, privacy—I need to remember how to do this. Did I ever really know how to do this?
When I unbuckle my seatbelt, I glance at Paige, and notice her fingers are obsessively rubbing the rough edges along her seatbelt, her teeth clamped down on her lip, her eyes not blinking as she gazes out the window. She’s nervous too.
I get out of the car and walk around to her side, but I take the route around the back so I can jump in the air a few times, jog my legs, and stretch my neck. I’m searching for courage.
“What was that?” she asks.
Shit. I never thought she’d open her own damn door.
“Oh, I was…” For a moment, I consider lying, saying I’m cold. But it’s balmy out tonight. “That’s a really pretty dress.” I decide to go with honesty, or at least the icing on my honest cake. I couldn’t very well say I’ve spent fifteen miles imagining my hand running up the leg you flashed me back in the driveway.
“Thank you, Houston,” she smiles, and I swear she’s blushing again. I could spend the entire night complimenting her. But I can do that at home. Tonight, I need to find my inner Romeo.
“So, where’s this slide?” she asks, her hand on her hip. She thinks I made the slide up—which I totally would have, if I had to, just to get her to come. But the truth is, this park happens to be Leah’s favorite, and the slide is actually pretty fantastic.
“Right this way, Miss Owens,” I say, giving her my arm, leaving the picnic supplies in the back seat and taking her jacket in my other hand, anxious to see this new spark in her eyes. She looks down as she steps into me, our arms crossing, goosebumps coming to the surface on her skin. How is it possible that this girl is affected by me?
We walk through the picnic tables and ramadas along the winding path until we get to a large wood-chipped area filled with swings and jungle gyms.
“You weren’t kidding. This must be Leah’s favorite place in the world,” Paige says, looking around at the various metal and wooden play structures. I love that she’s thinking of Leah right now.
“It is,” I say, watching her face as she takes it all in. “She might get a little upset, though, when she finds out you’ve taken over her slide,” I say, tilting my head to the left, encouraging her to turn around. She looks up to the start of the winding slide, a series of red and blue tubes that link and wind together for five turns. It’s almost impossible to make it all the way down without having to scoot yourself through the last turn. Leah’s secret is a running start—and she slides on her belly. Something tells me that’s not Paige’s style.
“How do you even get up there?” she asks, a light in her eyes as she looks up. I was worried she would think this was silly, but she’s actually excited by the challenge. That girl, the one she talks about, the one she’s been searching for—she is so close to the surface I can taste it.
“You climb,” I say, leading the way, hoping like hell she’s following. I don’t turn around to check, instead, setting her jacket on the ground by the entrance and grabbing a bar and starting my ascent up the three platforms to the start of the slide. I catch a glimpse of her behind me somewhere in the middle of my climb, and I start to take the steps and bars faster, looping my body over and under each obstacle.
“Houston Orr you are not going down that slide first. Not if you brought me here,” she shouts. It’s funny how competitive she is over this all of a sudden, and it’s adorable, too. She said my entire name, and it was like she’s known me for years—the syllables so comfortable falling from her lips.