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There's only one person who makes the pain feel less overwhelming, bearable even.
You should do it, Fallon's words ring through my head as Matt's arms tighten around me.
But what if I don't want to offer him only that? What if I want...more?
And that was the exact moment I decided to sleep with Kyle Thompson.
Chapter 12
I wave goodbye to Mom and Dad from the bottom of the staircase. They walk out the front door, their hands all over each other like frisky teenagers. I shake my head, partially disgusted, but mostly grateful. Grateful they still look at each other like they're madly in love after all these years.
They're headed next door for their monthly 'Couples Night Out' with Diane and Randy.
And, according to Facebook, Matt and Audra are headed to see some play with her dance team.
Which means Kyle is home alone.
Hello, perfect opportunity.
When the door clicks shut behind them, I run as fast as I can up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I strip off my sweater, rifle through my underwear drawer and pull out my hot pink sports bra, the only semi-sexy undergarment I own. I change into it, discard my blue cotton bra on my unmade bed and look for the black thong I rarely wear. If I had more time, I would have picked up something new and lacy and sexy. But Kyle goes back to Boulder tomorrow, so this will have to do.
This afternoon, after my final driving lesson, I spent an ungodly amount of time in the shower shaving everything. Yes, everything.
Over the years, I've heard a few things here and there. That's what happens when you have two older half-brothers who don't have a filter. They talk about their preferences right in front of you. And since I don't know what Kyle likes, or doesn't like, I just figured the safest option was to show up clean and freshly shaven.
I really don't have a solid plan. An envelope came from Boulder today. I haven't opened it yet, even though Mom begged me to. I'm nervous. I don't want to think about what happens if that letter is filled with more rejection. More heartache. More 'sorry Jenny, you're just not good enough'.
I figured I could open the letter with Kyle. If I don't get in, I'm sure he'll be more than willing to console me. And if I do, I'm sure he'll be more than willing to celebrate with me.
But that's as far as I've gotten with Operation Seduce Kyle.
Oh, and I may have stolen a few condoms from the stash Mom keeps in her bedside drawer. I'm hoping Kyle has his own. I really don't want to use Mom and Dad's.
I slip on some jeans and pull a black, low-cut top over my head. I'm going for simple and sexy. I'm not really sure how to be sexy, never have tried to be. I guess I'm just winging it tonight.
The last item on my checklist is to curl my hair. Big, loose, irresistible waves he'll want to run his fingers through. Or twine his fingers around. It's really up to him. I'm not picky.
I quickly curl my hair the way Mom's hairdresser taught me. One-inch sections at a time, wrapped around the wand, leaving the last inch or so at the ends free of heat.
It doesn't take long before my blond hair is curled into golden beach waves. I tease a few strands, then stand back to admire my handiwork.
Not bad.
Especially for someone who's never tried to seduce anyone before.
Ever.
In her life.
I spritz myself with the perfume Diane got me for Christmas, flip off the light switch, grab the envelope off my dresser, and shove the condoms into my back pocket. I take my time walking down the stairs, trying not to dwell on the weird, fluttery feeling in my stomach.
When I reach the front door, my heart starts beating frantically in my chest. This is really happening. I'm really going to march over there, offer myself to Kyle and...hope he doesn't laugh in my face.
He won't do that, right?
Before I can chicken out, I grab the knob and swing the door wide open. The crisp, cold breeze hits me as I step outside and lock the door behind me. Even though the frigid mountain air is unusually brutal tonight, my skin burns with anticipation.
I wrap my arms around myself, grasp the envelope tightly in my fingers and jog down the short pathway from our house to the Thompson's. Trying to channel my nervous energy into something productive, I start counting each step I take, each heartbeat pounding in my ears.
