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Kyle's hand cups my cheek lovingly. "What does that mean?"
"It means," I say as I lean back on my hands. "Have sex with me."
Kyle raises an eyebrow. "Jenny."
"Kyle," I return.
He caves, but I don't miss the slight pause before he eases himself into me and does exactly what I need.
—
"When are you going to be in Boulder?" Kyle asks as I lean my head against his shoulder in a corner booth at Bruce's, one of the only places on the mountain with air conditioning.
"I can move into my dorm on the 21st, so a little over a month," I answer. "But I really need to find a job before then."
He reaches out and grabs his cup of tea from the table, takes a sip. The glass is fogged over, and a few drops of condensation slip down, drip from the bottom onto his jean-clad lap.
"Come sooner," he casually suggests.
I shake my head. "I have nowhere to stay."
"Stay with me," he answers. "Just until you move into your dorm."
"I...I can't," I shake my head. "I can't live with you."
"Just for a few weeks," he coolly downplays, setting his glass back on the table. "I miss you, Jenny. I want to see you every day. It's getting really hard to only hear your voice over the phone."
I sit up and twist to face him. His eyes are blazing with tenderness. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
He nods. "I also need a barista."
"You're offering me a job, too?"
"Well, it's kind of a receptionist/coffee-making gig. I've already let two girls go. They're all incompetent," Kyle rolls his eyes. "How hard is it to answer the phone?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. Maybe they're too busy drooling over their boss."
"Baby, please," Kyle pleads. "I'll pay you well."
"I don't want it to affect our relationship," I reply. "I don't want to lose you." My chest tightens at the thought, but I quickly file it away under things that arenever going to happen.
"Kelsey will train you and you'll answer to her," he offers.
"Can I think about it?"
"Yes," he smiles as he kisses my forehead.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Because you didn't say no," he flashes his eyebrows at me. "We also need to talk about what happened earlier."
I groan. I don't want to talk about the hot, sweaty, condom-less sex we had on Mom's desk. "What about it?"
"Are you OK?" He runs his fingers through my hair, his thumb caressing my cheekbone. "You've been through a lot lately."
I could tell him I'm fine, that it's just the heat wearing me out, but I don't want to hide things anymore. "I don't know. I thought this summer would go a little differently. Nothing is how it's supposed to be."
He nods his head. "I know."
