The Beginning of Everything(47)

“It’s German.” Cassidy grinned. “And it translates roughly as ‘someone who always parks their car in the shade so their interior doesn’t get hot.’ German’s full of really good insults.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Um.” Cassidy considered for a moment. “Vomdoucher. That means someone who can’t stand to take cold showers. And I like backpfeifengesicht a lot. That one translates to ‘a face that cries out for a fist in it.’ It’s very Shakespearean.”

I shook my head. “Where do you learn this stuff?”

“Don’t you ever get bored?” Cassidy asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t Google ‘German insults.’”

“Why not? It’s fascinating.”

I shrugged, merging onto the freeway. “I guess it just never occurred to me.”

“Do you know what just occurred to me?” Cassidy asked playfully.

“What?”

“I’ve never seen your bedroom.”



THANKFULLY, MY PARENTS were out shopping for new lighting fixtures or lamps or something. I hadn’t really been paying attention when my mom had explained it that morning, but the point was, they weren’t home, and wouldn’t be back for a while.

“Should I be afraid?” Cassidy asked warily as I led her up to my room. “Is this going to be one of those messy boy bedrooms that smells like old cheese?”

“Definitely. I’ve got posters of girls in bikinis, too. And like, a whole bedside drawer of lube.”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t.” Cassidy laughed.

My room wasn’t all that exciting, except for the fact that it contained a large bed. Mostly, it was just really clean. If it wasn’t, my mom straightened up before the maid came on Tuesdays, which meant that she went through all of my stuff.

I wasn’t allowed to put posters up or anything like that, so there were a couple of framed prints: McEnroe and Fleming at Wimbledon, plus some sailing stuff my dad had liked, even though we never went sailing. I had a big bookshelf that held photographs from school dances, a couple of game consoles, and the empty space where my tennis trophies used to sit before I put them in a box in the closet.

I opened the door, and Cooper pushed past us and jumped onto the bed, laying his head down on my Wii controller.

“Cooper, get out!” I said, laughing.

“Awww, poor dog.” Cassidy sat down on my bed and scratched him behind the ears.

“That’s not helping,” I said.

“Why do you have a framed picture of a sailboat?” she asked.

I shrugged and sat down next to her.

“Let me guess,” Cassidy said, “because someone else picked it out and put it up in a room meant to encapsulate who you are, even though you have no interest in boats.”

“If I say yes, do I get to kiss you?”

“Not in front of the dog!” She pretended to be shocked.

“Cooper, get out!” I said, prodding him.

Cooper sat up, considered it, and then promptly lay back down.

Cassidy finally coaxed him off the bed and shooed him out the door.

“There,” she said. “We have successfully sexiled your poodle.”

“Achievement unlocked.” It was a phrase I’d picked up from our lunch table, and it made Cassidy smile.

She bent down to take off her boots, and then padded barefoot around my room, examining it.

“Where are your books?” she asked.

“Under the bed,” I admitted sheepishly.

Cassidy got down on her hands and knees and peered under the bed.

“It’s the lost library of Alexandria,” she said dryly.

“I don’t get it, but okay.”

“You should put them on your shelves. Unless you’re afraid the football team might come over and discover that you’re a giant nerd.”

“I haven’t read many of them,” I said, in case she thought that I had. “They were my mom’s in college.”

“You’re never going to read them if they’re under your bed.”

“I’ll put on my new leather jacket and go read one in a coffee shop tomorrow,” I promised, grinning.

“You’re so full of it,” Cassidy teased, scooting onto the bed. Her arms were goose bumped from the air-conditioning, and her tank top was askew, revealing a lacy bra strap.

“Mmm, come here,” I said, pulling her on top of me.

I’d forgotten to put on music to set the mood, but it didn’t matter. For once, we had a huge bed all to ourselves, and a lock on the door, and an echoing, empty house beyond that lock.

I kissed her neck, slipping the straps of her tank top over her shoulders, and then kissed those too. I pushed her tank top down around her waist, hoping she’d get the hint that I wanted her to take it off.

“Very subtle,” she said, sitting up and wriggling out of her top. Stripes of late-afternoon sunlight seeped though the blinds, creating golden bands across her skin.

“It’s purple,” I said stupidly, mesmerized by the appearance of her lacy bra and the soft curves of her waist.

And then Cooper let out a pitiful whine and scratched his paw against the door. Cassidy glanced over, and Cooper whined again, louder this time.