Interim(73)

“Is that what you use to slide under the car?”

“Yep.”

She tilted the bottle and drained the last of the beer. He didn’t immediately offer her a third. She could take a mini break. Or a permanent one.

“Can I ride it?”

“What?”

“That four-wheel thing. Can I ride it?”

“You wanna ride the creeper?”

Regan’s face lit up. “No. Way.”

“Huh?”

She hopped off the counter and plopped onto the creeper.

“I’m totally digging the name.”

“Creeper?” Jeremy watched her lie back, knees up and feet planted on the floor.

She pushed off and squealed.

“I’m creeping!”

“Yes, you are,” he laughed.

“Hey, Jeremy, watch me creep!” She zigzagged and spun in a circle.

“Impressive.”

She pushed herself around the garage, every now and then asking questions about cars and the different tools she passed, pointing side to side and above her head. She picked up speed as her confidence grew.

“Be careful,” Jeremy warned.

She threw her weight to the left and narrowly avoided a barrel.

“Oh, yeah! I’m a badass!”

“You sure are,” Jeremy said. “Now, slow down.”

She ignored him and took a sharp right, flying parallel to the opposite wall.

“Regan . . .”

“Best birthday EVER!” she bellowed, then ran into a wall—a smart smack right on the top of her head. “Ouch!”

Jeremy jumped off the counter and rushed to her. He dropped to his knees and cradled the top of her head—an intimate move, but he thought the situation called for it.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You’re supposed to be watching me.” Slightly accusatory, but in a sweet way.

“I know. I’m sorry. You’re too fast on this thing.”

“Hey, is that hand of yours still dirty?”

He smirked. “I washed it. You don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Amnesia?”

“So bad. I think I have to start my life over completely.”

“Would that be bad?”

“I don’t think so.” She giggled. “Oh, sorry Brandon. I don’t remember being your girlfriend, so I guess I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Oh, well!”

Jeremy smiled.

“Oh, sorry Casey. I don’t remember you being my BFF. Guess I better get a new one. That’s life!”

He laughed.

“Oh, whoops! I don’t remember any of my friends.” And then she looked straight into his eyes. “Except for Jeremy. I remember him. And—” She paused. “—I . . . I think I’ll keep him.”

She invited it. God, did she ever! And he was this close to giving it to her. A kiss. A deep, searching, I’m-gonna-make-you-love-me kiss. His face hovered mere inches above hers, and he watched her eyes close expectantly, pretty lashes fluttering to the movement of her eyes behind lavender lids. She wanted to be kissed on her birthday. And he wanted to do it.

But then he remembered she had two beers. She was silly and tipsy and dating another boy. Everything about it would be perfectly wrong, and he would regret taking advantage of her.

“Hey,” he whispered.

She opened one eye.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Nothing broken but my pride,” she replied.

“I thought you knew to leave your pride at the door when you hang out with me.”

She smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm. “I keep forgetting that.”

“Lemme help you up,” Jeremy offered.

Her face fell. “Really?”

Oh, yeah. She wanted that kiss.

“Yeah. Really.”

His body ached for her. Yes, teenage hormones definitely played a role, but this wasn’t just sexual attraction. He could spend the rest of the night listening to her chatter away into the early morning hours. He wanted more than her body. He wanted her time. He wanted all her thoughts and feelings. He wanted her to say and do whatever she liked. It was her—the complete Regan—he craved.

He looked down at the sound of a soft snore.

“Regan?”

Nothing.

“After two beers, Regan?”