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Allie’s footsteps thud on the stairs, and Lucille and I both turn to watch her bouncing down the steps.
“Allison, I keep telling you to stop that. Dust from your shoes spread all around, making me cough and sneeze.”
“Oops, sorry, Gram.” Allie gives Lucille a back hug and kisses the top of her head. “Oh, tea. You have coffee anywhere?”
“You do the groceries around here, young lady?”
Allie bursts out laughing. “I love you too, Gram.”
After fixing Lucille’s hinges, which are as rusted as her soul, Allie and I head back to my car. I’m about to slide the key in when she taps my forearm. When my gaze lands on her, she beams at me, her whole face lighting up. Her eyes usually change depending on her mood. When she’s happy, like right now, they’re as light as the sky. When she’s angry or frustrated, they darken like the stormy sea.
She twists her long, curly brown hair in a bun and snaps the seatbelt. “It’s a yes, right? Should we do it tomorrow?”
This feels dirty, like we’re doing something we shouldn’t. Like we’re a bunch of teens sneaking from our parents, even though we’re both twenty-nine-year-old adults.
I like it. About fucking time. “I should take you out on a date first, Bun.”
Her smile only gets bigger. “No way. Really?”
“I’d hate for your first time to feel transactional. I’ll pick you up at 7.”
“What should I wear?”
My hand rests on the hand brake. “You always wear what you want, Bun. Don’t change now.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’ll check the weather for tomorrow night. If it’s good, let’s go for a picnic by the lake. Our secret spot?”
“You’re on!”
2
ALLIE
Tristan and I accidentally found our secret spot when we were sixteen. I found a key in Gram’s drawer, and when I asked her about it, she said it was for the mansion by the lake, owned by her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Edward Davis.
To this day, I have no idea why she kept it. It was supposed to be their starting home after they got married, but Mr. Davis drunkenly slept with his secretary weeks before their wedding, which was why Gram left him and married my grandpa.
I told Tristan about the key and basically blackmailed him into exploring it. No one ever went there except for a housekeeper and gardener who did their jobs twice a year. Kids didn’t break in because their parents told them horror stories—none of which, according to Gram, was true.
It’s a bit funny that Tristan chose to go there to have our first date. When he said I could wear whatever I wanted, did he realize I didn’t like wearing panties? I’ve always hated them. They feel restrictive, like my crotch can’t breathe.
So…
Did he mean I could forgo underwear? So we could go at it quickly? So he’d have easy access?
My core clenches in anticipation of what’s about to happen tonight. He’s taking me out on a picnic date, and we’re having sex—in that order, I hope.
God, this is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for my whole life. Me and Tristan. Crossing the friend zone. It doesn’t matter if I asked him first in the guise of supposedly preparing myself for someone else.
That was a shitty thing to do, but I had no other option. Besides, I was so tired of waiting for him to make the first move. Now the ball is in his court.
* * *
The rusted gate creaks and groans as Tristan pushes it open. My hand grazes the rough, weathered metal, and a small thrill passes through me—not just because this feels illegal, which it probably is, but because we’re about to do something I’ve dreamed of as a teenage girl.
“Just like old times, huh?” Tristan glances back at me with a smile. It’s that smile that never fails to stop my heart. His biceps flex as he hefts the basket in one hand and the blanket in the other.
