Riding With Brighton(54)

I sit up and shake him. His eyes have drifted shut, but it’s not time for bed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, startled.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Why are you waking me up?”

“If we fall asleep morning is gonna come, and then you’re gonna go home and leave me. I don’t want to waste the time I have with you sleeping.”

“Why not? Sleeping together is sexy. Come on, let’s snuggle,” he says in a sleepy voice.

“Is that really what you want to do?”

He runs his hands over his face but not because he’s frustrated, but because he’s trying to wake himself up. “No. I don’t want to spend a minute of this night sleeping. But, shit Brighton, do you know how long we just spent making out? My body’s exhausted. It’s gonna take a little convincing to wake it up.”

“We can totally spend every second, until the second you have to leave me, making out.”

“Ugh,” he moans. “God, is that tempting. But there are so many other things I want to do.”

“Like?”

“Like listen to the music you want to play for me. And just lie in this bed with you. And talk to you. There are so many things I still want to know about you. And the studio where your mom works…. I’ve been wondering about that since you told me about your figurines. I would love to see that.”

“Yeah? That’s a great idea. Get your ass up and get dressed.”

“I was just throwing shit out there. Seriously, how the hell do you have so much energy? I’m never gonna be able to keep up with you.”

“Huh.” I stutter a laugh at that. “You seem pretty insatiable. I think it’s me who’s not gonna be able to keep up with you.”

“Yeah.” He grins. “It’s gonna take a while to get the years of pent-up desire for Brighton out of my system.”

“‘Out of your system’? That’s not good.”

“Under control. I meant to say under control. I’m never gonna be able to look at your sexy ass and not want it.”

“Jesus, Jay… you have no idea… the things that are coming. Just wait until we actually have sex. It’s gonna be all-consuming,” I tell him, while running the palm of my hand down his chest and over his abs. There might have been some lip licking involved.

“Are you trying to torture me? Because if not, then let’s just get that out of the way. I’m so tired of being a virgin.”

I laugh at his eager attitude. God, what I wouldn’t give to have him. But he’s not like all those other guys. With him, I’m not a “hit-it-and-quit-it” kind of guy. “Seriously, don’t tempt me. We’re waiting for that. I’m not gonna have sex with you on night one. I respect you and care about you too much,” I tell him with a smirk.

He chuckles, his hand running over my shoulder and bicep now. “I know you’ll respect me in the morning. Truly, Brighton, I’m ready,” he says in a sarcastic whiney voice.

It is kind of funny that I’m acting like we’re saving anything. We pretty much devoured each other tonight. There’s nothing pure left between us. But when I have sex with him, it’s gonna be slow. We’re not gonna be two horny as hell eighteen-year-old guys. I mean, we will be eighteen—I can’t wait that long—but we’ll have all this crazy, lustful, hungry desire under control so that we can comprehend what the hell is going on. “Get your ass up. Let’s go on a little field trip.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says groggily before standing. He yawns and stretches. And he’s completely naked. That’s my man, I think with a huge smile while getting my own clothes on. I throw him a pair of running pants and a fresh T-shirt. He pulls my red hoodie back on. He seems to like my red hoodie.

I make a point to remember my phone as we head out the back door and across the yard.

“Is Mickey okay with us going in there?” he asks as the big garage comes into view.

“Sure. I mean, if you break something you’re gonna owe her your life, but you’re coordinated, right?”

“Generally, yeah. As long as you keep your hands off me.”

“You’re coordinated when my hands are on you. Trust me.” Getting the key in the lock, I open the door. When I’m inside, I stumble across the wall until I find the light switch. And then I turn it on.

“Holy crap,” Jay says immediately.

I smile as I look into the room, feeling proud of my mom. You’d never guess this crappy garage has all this beautiful stuff inside.

“It’s so serious… and professional,” he says, walking into the space.

“This is the lounge where she brings people who come to look at her art.” The small space is defined by three tall walls of lit shelves that have her smaller pieces in them along with books and magazines that have featured her work and catalogs from her exhibits. In the middle are a coffee table, two chairs, and a small sofa all sitting on top of a plush rug.

He’s wandered over to the shelves and is inspecting her work. I go to him, linking my fingers with his. “She puts your figurines to shame,” he tells me. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I totally agree.”

“I actually get what she’s doing here.” He leans in to look at a piece from her Deconstructing the Myth series. “That’s a real girl, and she’s making a teepee from the insanely long limbs of that shattered girl on the ground.”