“Not yet,” he murmurs back, but before I can argue, he slides his finger past my panties, and I close my eyes with pleasure. From here on out, it’s ecstasy as he drives me toward the finish line.
“Let yourself go, Andi.”
I do as he says, his name slipping from my lips as I ride a wave of pure pleasure—the longest, tallest, widest wave I’ve ever been taken on in my life. It engulfs me whole, swallows every thought, crashes my mind into darkness. The tremors don’t stop until I’m completely spent, sagging onto his chest, my arms around his neck.
His hands circle my back, his fingers caressing my waist. I could lie here all day on his chest, his soft, warm breaths tickling my neck—until I remember that I’m the only one who’s been satisfied at all.
“Oh, my God,” I say. “I’m so selfish. Let me…”
He clasps my wrist in his hand as I reach for his pants. “No,” he says. “You need to get going. I’ll bet your dad is waiting up for you, and I don’t want to be responsible for returning you home late.”
“I’m an adult.”
“And I respect your father,” he says. “Do it for me.”
“But…” I turn my lips into a pout, my hands reaching for him. “It’s not fair! I want to make you feel as awesome as you made me feel.”
“I feel just fine,” he says. “Although I can’t promise I’m not hoping we can do this again sometime.”
“There are a lot of negatives in that sentence.”
“That’s the Minnesota coming out of me,” he says. “Let me put it bluntly: I loved touching and feeling you, Andi, but I want more. What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“I have a show.”
“It’s my brother’s bachelor party. We’re doing a joint thing with Lilia and a few of her friends. Come with us. We need more people; a few of my brothers can’t make it to town.”
“I’m sorry, I would, but I can’t,” I say with a wry smile. “I can’t miss my show. I made the commitment already.”
“Come out after. I need to see you.”
“You know what it’s like from hockey,” I say, my face rife with apology. “It’s just like hockey—if you had a game, you couldn’t miss that either, could you?”
“No.”
“Well, this is the same thing except I’m not chasing a hard little black circle around on ice skates.”
“Well, when you put it like that, hockey sounds pretty pointless.”
I shrug. “I stand on stage and make myself look like a fool in the hope that other people will laugh. I’m not sure who’s gotten the short end of the stick in this deal.”
Shaking his head, he laughs and stands. “Can I drive you home tonight? It’s late.”
“No, my car’s here. I have class in the morning, some deliveries, and then my show. Maybe this weekend we can meet up if you’re free.”
He looks disappointed, but he does a decent job hiding it as he nods. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
I glance at my watch. If I rush, speed through every traffic light and jump a few medians, I just might make it home on time. Before I leave, however, I reach for him, kiss him lightly on the lips, and then pull back. “Thank you for everything tonight. I had a lot of fun, more fun than I’ve had in quite a long while.”
“You need to get out more—specifically, with me, tomorrow night. Lilia wants you to be there.”
“I’ll call you when I’m done with the show. That’s the best I can do.” I wave and take a few steps down the front lawn. “I promise if there was a way I could get out of the show, I would. I’m sorry.”
He remains silent, a hand coming up to return my wave in a stiff gesture.
There are no more words to be said, but the entire drive home I’m thinking about the look on his face as I stepped into my car. I’m almost certain he wanted me to stay.
Picking up my phone, I debate quickly between Angela and Lisa, decide on Lisa, and hit dial.
“Hey,” she says. “What’s up? Everything ok?”
She was obviously sleeping, and I realize how late it is. At the same time, I’m realizing that maybe I want to keep this moment private, a secret between Ryan and me, at least for now. “Sorry, butt dial,” I say. “Goodnight Lisa.”
“You woke me up for that?”
“Sorry,” I say. “Go back to bed.”
“Asshole.”
“Love you too.”
CHAPTER 22
Andi
When I push open the door to our small home in a deteriorating neighborhood on the almost-east side of Los Angeles, my dad is there, sitting at the kitchen table in full alert mode. The slight scent of marinara sauce lingers in the homey kitchen, which hasn’t changed a lick since my mother died.
The scent suggests my dad didn’t feel like cooking tonight. The beer in front of him suggests he’s had a long night of waiting. I cringe, but there’s no going back now.
“Do you like him?” Papa Peretti asks as he looks up from his half-empty beer.
“Who?” It’s not a good answer to the question, but I don’t have anything better to say.
He gives me a look that tells me he knows I’m full of it, and I flinch. “The boy, Andi, the one who called here today. Do you like him?”
“He’s nice,” I say. “Tips really well.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t know Dad, it’s too early to tell.”
“Sometimes you just know these things.”
I remember the feel of Ryan’s lips on mine, his fingers squeezing my hips, the look of those chocolatey brown eyes as he said my name. Then I change the subject. “If you could go back and fall in love with Mom all over again, knowing she wouldn’t be here today, would you do it?”
His eyes close for a brief minute.
“Sorry.” I take a seat at the table and squeeze my dad’s hand. “Forget I said anything.”
My dad and I are not ones for serious heart-to-heart conversations. We’re hardly ones for conversations at all unless they involve yelling at each other over pizza orders.
“Forget I said anything,” I say. “I know you don’t like to talk about it.”
“Her,” he says. “I’m always willing to talk about her.”
I hang my head, the somber moment seeping throughout the room. The ache in my heart comes back, stronger than before. My dad hasn’t figured out how to live without her yet, not successfully at least. I’m not sure any of us have.
“I’d do it all over in a second,” he says. “A hundred times, a million times.”
“But this heartache…”
“Is a sign that I did at least one thing right in my life.” My dad has these furry brown eyebrows and they crinkle, his expression filled with pain mixed with joy as he looks at me. “Your mother was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’d never have known what it meant to love unless I’d met her.”
“But—”
“There are no buts,” he says. “That’s it. I loved her, love her still, and that’s all. She’s the best part of me, even if she’s not here physically. She’s still here, Andi.”
I fall silent, lost in my thoughts, wondering how on earth we even got onto this subject. I’m not in love with Ryan; I’m hardly in like with him. We’ve just met. “Ryan asked me to go to a wedding with him, as friends. Sort of like a date, but…it’s complicated.”
My dad swirls his beer around and looks at me. “Are you friends?”
“I suppose.”
“Does he treat you well?”
“I hardly know him, Dad.”
“Do you want to go?”
I pause, considering everything, and I finally nod. “I don’t know why, though. It’d be easier not to go.”
“Go,” he says.
I blink at him. “What?”
A smile turns his lips upward, and for the first time since my mother’s funeral, I see tears smarting in his eyes. “Go. What’s the worst that can happen? You have a horrible time and come back to your family, your studies, your work?”
“I suppose.”
“Have I told you how I met your mother?”
“No,” I lie. He’s told me many times before, but I love hearing the story.
“It was Christmas, and we were both shopping for gifts for our significant others. I had a girlfriend, she had a boyfriend, and there was exactly one Beach Boys album left.”