Present Perfect(23)

“I do too, I really like garlic bread.”

“I could have passed it to you if you had asked.”

“Yeah, I know, but my way I get to look down your dress.” My eyes shot immediately to his. “Oh, by the way, your bra selection tonight…Excellent.”

I slapped my hand to my chest trying to close the gap he had been peering down.

“Please tell me your panties match,” he whispered, and then leaned back slightly, glancing down in the direction of my panties. When I looked at him, I was met with a wink and a smirk before he shoved a big piece of garlic bread in his mouth.

“Noah, congratulations,” my dad said.

Just then I felt a hand on my knee and fingers creeping under the hem of my dress. My breath hitched and my eyes darted over to Noah. I’d be completely pissed at him if his hand didn’t feel so incredible on my naked leg.

“Thank you, sir.”

How he could remain so calm, cool, and collected in front of our parents while his hand rubbed over my knee was beyond me.

“It’s pretty rare that a sophomore gets asked to join the varsity team. We’re proud of you.” My dad always thought of Noah like a son.

“His mom and I are extremely proud of him. He’s a chip off the old block,” Mr. Stewart added.

The dads laughed as if the comment was hilarious. Noah smiled at his dad while his hand began to move up my thigh. I slapped it away and inadvertently hit the table with a loud thud, causing it to shake.

“Amanda, are you okay?” Mom asked.

‘Yes. I’m fine.” Noah snorted as he tried to contain a laugh. “I was swatting a fly away.”

My mom looked at me, slightly annoyed, but maintained her cheery voice, and said, “That’s ridiculous. We don’t have flies in this house.”

“My bad,” I said.

Noah’s hand landed back on my knee. He squeezed slightly, causing a loud gasp to escape me. All four parental heads turned to look in my direction.

“Um… Mom would you please pass me the…um…”

Noah’s hand was relentless. He would squeeze my knee then rub the inside of my thigh. It was impossible for me to think or form a coherent sentence.

“The stuff in the bottle, that you…um…pour on…um…lettuce?” My pitch grew higher and higher with each word.

“You mean salad dressing?” Mom said, sarcasm flowing from her words like a torrential rain. I nodded. “You already have some on your salad.”

“I need more. Please give me more.”

She looked at me like I didn’t belong to her before passing me the dressing.

“How’s Emily?” Mrs. Stewart asked while I doused my salad.

A prideful smile appeared across my mom’s face. “She’s wonderful. She’s loving college.”

“That’s fantastic,” Mrs. Stewart said.

“In fact, she joined the debate team. She’s an extremely articulate young woman,” Mom said as she glanced in my direction. If she had any clue what was taking place under her dinner table, she might cut me some slack.

I was so out of sorts, I dropped my fork just before loading it up with salad. “I’ll get it, Tweet.”

Noah’s hand disappeared from my leg. I took the opportunity to take a drink of water trying to calm down. Noah scooted his chair back and then bent down to grab the fork.

“Dead horse!” Dad announced while holding up the empty wine bottle.

All of a sudden, I felt a pair of lips on the outer side of my thigh right above my knee. I almost did a full blown spit-take at the exact same time my dad asked, “Are we game for another?”

Noah sat back up and I had three sets of eyes glued to me. The Stewart’s eyes held pity, for my parents, no doubt. My mom’s eyes held regret that she didn’t send me for those etiquette lessons when I was younger and my dad wasn’t even paying attention to my faux pas. He was busy holding the wine bottle above his glass desperately trying to get the last drop of wine to drip out.

“I’ll go get you another bottle of wine. I’m done eating, anyway,” I said, as I wiped the spray of water from my face.

I quickly rose from the table and made my way to the kitchen to put my plate in the sink. Without stopping, I headed to the garage where we had an extra refrigerator that my parents used for their wine collection.

Standing in front of the open fridge, I realized I didn’t know if they wanted red or white. I took a bottle of each to be on the safe side. I closed the fridge and turned around coming face-to-face with a beaming Noah. I took a step back. He placed his hands against the fridge on either side of my shoulders, caging me in. He really liked caging me in.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing in there with all the touching and the kissing? You kissed my thigh under the table. The family dinner table, for god’s sake.”

“I couldn’t resist. You’re mighty tasty.” He waggled his eyebrows and moved in closer.

Holy crap on a cracker, tingles were taking over my body.

“Leave me alone for the rest of the night.” I tried to sound mad, but even I could hear the smile in my voice. It was hard to be mad at Noah, especially when what he was doing felt so amazing.

“Okay, I will.” He dropped his arms and stepped back giving me room to get by.