Liars and Losers Like Us(49)

“Oh okay. Um, yes?”

“Are you sure?” He jokes.

“Good question. Glad you double-checked because I’m not sure. Maybe I should kiss you first. Then I’ll decide.”

Sean unlocks his hand from mine, places it behind my neck, pulling me closer, making me forget about the movie we weren’t really watching anyway. Sherwood Forest is the only drive-in movie theater within five hundred miles. Probably one of the last ones left in Minnesota. The movie playing is definitely better than the CIA lady movie but not better than this. His lips are warm and I lose my breath and maybe a piece of my heart in his kiss. His hands grip the hair at the nape of my neck and send a shiver into me. I pull away and tell him we should leave. Or go in the backseat.

“The backseat, huh? Whoa, Miss Hughes. You’re trying to seduce me.”

I lean back into him. “I’m your girlfriend, that’s kind of my job now.”

Sean touches his nose to mine. Then tilts his head and kisses my neck, scraping his teeth against my skin. I squeeze my eyelids closed and inhale sharply.

“Let’s go,” he says, as he shifts the car into reverse and flips the car lights back on. “You’re killin me, Breezy, killing me.”

“Where we goin’?”

“Definitely somewhere classier than the backseat.”

****

A few porch lights brighten the houses lining the streets, but other than that, everything is dark, still, and cricket chirpingly quiet. But my hands are sweaty anyway. “This is crazy,” I say. “Someone’s going to call the cops. And that could be my dad.”

Shoulder to shoulder, Sean and I walk up the long driveway of a big house with dark gray siding. “No, they’re not gonna call your dad. I hope not, anyway. Everyone in the neighborhood is out or sleeping. No one lives here yet. The bank put a “For Sale” sign out last week. I promise,” Sean whispers, squeezing my hand tighter. “Plus, we’re not actually going inside—just the backyard.”

He reaches through a slat in the fence and fumbles around, unhooking a latch. The door creaks and lets us in.

Clutching Sean’s hand, I follow him into the backyard of the house. The overgrown grass swishes against my ankles as we pass a pond on the side of a large deck and up to a prim green and gray storage shed in the corner. Brushing my hand over my ankles, I cringe, hoping not to run into any crickets or spiders preparing to crawl up my cuffed jeans. I turn to the house and ask, “So, this was your old house? It’s nice.”

“Yep. It was nice. It’s twice as big as our house now, but I’d rather be there than back here with my dad. I only miss this place.” He slaps his hand on the shed’s door.

“Right. That makes sense and I didn’t mean that your house now isn’t nice or anything.” I fumble for something better to say but nothing comes out.

“I know. I know you’re not like that.” He reaches under the ledge of the shed’s window and pulls out a small box and slides out a key.

“A secret key? Should I be worried?” I ask, more excited than worried but also feeling a little worried that I’m so excited.

“About what? That someone’s going to report us for trespassing?”

“No, that you’re about to take me into a creepy shed for …?”

“For what? To show you my old favorite hangout?” He unlocks the door and faces me, “I’m not going to try to get you to you know—”

“Sleep with me in a creepy shed?” I ask biting my smile.

“Um, wow. Sometimes you surprise me. But yes, I mean no. No, I’m not trying to sleep with you in a creepy shed. I think more of you than that. But I did see how you were looking at me at the drive-in so hopefully you’re not disappointed about that. Even though I’m not trying to ‘you know,’ I hope you’ll come check it out in here anyway.” He pushes the door open and grabs my hand again. “Unless you’re really not comfortable. I’m not trying to make you feel like—”

“Sean.” I drop his hand, slide my fingers up his shoulder and give him a quick kiss. “I’m just messing with you. I’m fine.”

Once we’re inside, carpet squishes beneath my shoes and it’s pitch-black as soon as Sean shuts the door behind us. He clicks on the flashlight of his phone, pulls a piece of cardboard off the wall and slides it over the windowpane.

“What’s that for?”

“It covers the light.” He reaches up and pulls a string that lights up the room. “I used to put that board there so my dad wouldn’t know I was in here at night when—or if—he’d come home late.”

“Oh. That’s kind of … depressing.”

“Not really. This is where I’d play guitar and hang out. Wanna sit? The carpet’s not that dirty.”

“Sure.” I sit next to him on the floor. “So …”

“I’m sorry.” Sean frowns. “I guess this isn’t that fun. It was cooler in here with posters on the wall, my amp, and the mini fridge.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still a neat hangout. What if you played your guitar?”

“What, like air guitar?” The side of his mouth curves into a half smile.

“No, your real guitar. The one I saw in your backseat.” I pierce his eyes with my stare. “Pleeeeease?”