“You seriously don’t have to walk me all the way to practice.”
Chloe and Josh were walking hand in hand down Forest Street toward the center of town.
We’re holding hands in public. Omg!
To her pleasant surprise, he hadn’t even let go when all five Blackwells rode past them, apparently having decided to bike it out to their weekend-place-slash-survival-bunker with their big yellow lab in tow. It loped alongside Mr. Blackwell on a retractable leash.
“No, it’s cool,” Josh told her. “The courts are, like, right by my house.”
“Really? Where do you live?”
“On Baker. Across the street from that playground next to the courts.”
“Random! I had no idea.”
Chloe knew exactly where Josh lived. She’d practically been stalking him for the past two months. Maybe someday she’d confess that to him.
Right now, it was way too early for that kind of admission.
But omg!
The past two hours had been magical. In the shadowy light atop the silk duvet on Mr. and Mrs. Kiplinger’s California king, Chloe had just experienced the first orgasm of her life that wasn’t self-administered. And while her feelings for Josh as a person were difficult to disentangle from both her raw physical attraction and her newfound appreciation for his manual dexterity, it was possible she’d just found her soul mate.
She didn’t want to get ahead of herself. She had no idea where this was going. The relationship had barely started. It might not even be a relationship.
But if it’s not, why’s he holding my hand in public?
She smiled to herself as she readjusted the racket bag on her shoulder.
“Sure you don’t want me to carry that?”
“You’re sweet. But I’ve got it.”
She smiled at Josh. He smiled back.
Omg those eyes!
“Hey, check it out.”
Josh pointed down the hill. Two and a half blocks below them, a stream of bicyclists was zipping up Hawthorne.
“Weird—ohmygosh, is that my dad?” Chloe squinted at the semidistant figure, huffing along at the tail end of the group.
It definitely looked like Dad.
But why would he be riding his bike through town on a Tuesday afternoon?
“Is there some kind of charity bike ride going on?” Josh asked.
“On a Tuesday?”
“Yeah, I guess not. Check it out—there’s runners, too.”
“They don’t really seem dressed for it.”
“No. . . . This is weird. I hope everything’s okay.”
“Me too.” Chloe squeezed Josh’s hand a little tighter.
“Must have something to do with the power outage,” Josh said.
“Yeah,” Chloe agreed.
“You’re lucky you can still practice,” he told her. “There’s no way I can swim with the power off. The pool’s in the basement.”
“That sucks.”
“I know. I should go for a run. Get some cardio in.”
They walked in silence until they reached Hawthorne. By then, the flow of people moving north on the avenue had dried up. Everything felt normal again.
Normal, and yet completely different. In more ways than one.
“Hey, so, uhh—”
“Yeah?” She adjusted her grip on his hand, hoping her palm didn’t feel too sweaty to him.
“If there’s, like, no school tomorrow? You want to hang out?”
Omg!
He gave her a shy smile. She returned it, trying not to look too excited. “Yeah. I mean, I’m probably going to have semis tomorrow. But I could hang in the morning.”
As she said it, the thought entered her mind that if there was no school tomorrow, she should probably spend the time doing ACT prep and revising her Dartmouth supplemental. But the idea left as quickly as it had come when she realized that as long as there was no power, she couldn’t access either the practice tests on PDF or the Google Docs where all of her essay drafts were stored.
“Hype! I can come by your house. Where do you live?”
“Brantley Circle.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s off Willis.”
“Where’s Willis?”
“Straight up Hawthorne. You know where Delectables is?”
“No.”
“How about the furniture store?”
He shook his head. “Is that, like, by the church?”
“No. That’s down on Harris.”
“You sure?”
“The Catholic church? Yeah.”
“No, the one—I think it’s Catholic . . . ?” He shrugged, giving up. “What’s the address? I’ll just Google Map it.”
“Mmmm, no, you won’t.”
“Oh shit. You’re right.” He laughed. “What if you just come by my place?”
She smirked at him. “Do you seriously not think you can find my house? It’s, like, three turns. I can draw you a map.”
“I guess? I’m just, like, really bad with directions.”
She rolled her eyes. “You want me to come to your place instead?”
“That would be awesome.”
“Like, what time? Ten?”
“Yeah. Although . . .”
“What?”
“How will I know when it’s ten?”
She laughed. “Look at a clock?”
“What clock?” he protested. “The power’s out!”
“You are, like, sadly helpless.”
“I know! Right? It’s embarrassing. Will you forgive me?”
He stopped and turned to her, slipping his arm around her waist.
She tilted her chin up, closing her eyes as his lips met hers.
Omg . . .
They made out for a full half minute, until some sophomore boys walking up the other side of the street yelled, “Get a room!” at them. They broke the clinch, traded bashful smiles, and continued walking in the direction of the municipal tennis courts up the street from Josh’s house.
As they walked in silence, Chloe contemplated Josh’s apparent inability to overcome minor logistical challenges and quickly decided it was endearing. It might even be the kind of thing that’d become a running joke between them.
My boyfriend is so hopeless without me.
“Boyfriend”?
Quit future-tripping!
But omg . . .
Under the circumstances, it was hard to resist the temptation.