Page 18 of The Last Special Thing

“Amelia. Nice to meet you.”

She eased down on the couch and twisted her body over the back to watch Art. She wasn’t optimistic they had lemon in the house, but, sure enough, he pulled one out of the fridge and grabbed the nearby cutting board. He rolled the lemon with his palm on the board for a moment before reaching for the steak knife to slice into the fruit. He filled a plastic cup of water from the Brita and dropped the slice in.

“You can’t bitch about me calling you princess now.” He sauntered to her and handed her the cup.

“Fair enough.” She sipped the lemon water. “How’s your afternoon been?”

“Good, ran some errands.”

He sank beside her on the couch and wrapped an arm around her. She had a feeling she wouldn’t need to decipher his intentions. He would do what he wanted.

Amelia leaned against him, and he grazed his fingers along her arm, raising goosebumps.

“You’re out of your goddam mind,” Max said from behind them.

Art and Amelia turned their heads toward him.

“Fuck off. A yeti is far more likely to be real than a Loch Ness monster,” Tony responded.

“Yeah, right.”

“No, seriously, you can’t even see what’s deep in the ocean. People make shit up. A yeti, when people reported they have seen it, they would have to be at a close enough distance.”

Max hmped, almost in agreement.

“I’m with Max,” Art cut in. “The Loch Ness monster is far more likely.”

“You know what, I am right.” Max crossed his arms.

“Hey, listen, just because-” Tony started defending.

Amelia nudged Art as the argument restarted, giving a sly smile. He was comfortable making waves.

Ten minutes later, once it was decided that the more believable monster was a yeti, for sure this time, Max made his way into the kitchen. The cabinet doors opened and slammed shut.

He called over his shoulder to Art, “Are we out of liquor again?”

“Guess so.” Art turned his head toward Max.

“Alright, Tony, let’s take a walk,” Max decided.

Tony grunted in response as they headed out.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Amelia mused, “How long do you think they’ll be?”

Art grinned as he shifted to be horizontally behind her on the couch. He rested his chin on her shoulder and dragged his fingers along Amelia’s stomach underneath her blouse. A sitcom rerun played on the TV as he tested the boundaries. With each movement, her heart raced in anticipation.

Until today, they had kept everything very PG. Well, except for the way his tongue found its way into her mouth as he pressed her against the alley's brick walls. Technically, that was PG, but maybe PG-13.

Against her body’s desire, she silently shook her head as his fingers reached the hem of her bra. Weston had been her only experience. As much as she enjoyed being with Art on the Fourth of July and today, she wasn’t there yet.

His hand lowered, circling her stomach, his breath against her ear. She was glad he didn’t take her 'no' as meaning she needed to stop altogether. He pulled her closer against him, her ass against the fly of his jeans. As he put his lips against her neck, footsteps approached. Amelia sprang up as Max and Tony flung the door open. The handle thudded against the wall, nicking the paint.

“Ooops,” Max chuckled.

Amelia smoothed down her hair as the guys passed her toward the kitchen.

Amelia turned to Art. “Do you want to show me your room?”