“You’re not going to say sorry again for earlier, are you?” he asked, clearly not wanting to rehash it.
“No, I was kind of hoping we could stop out at the overpass before you take me home.”
He beamed. “Oh yeah?” Before I could answer, he disappeared, leaning over to pull the handle of the passenger-side door and push it open. His face popped back into view. “Hop in, babe. I’ve got a Fanta Orange in a cooler in the back with your name on it.”
I walked around and climbed in. “You’re so romantic.”
He pulled me closer to him and rested his hand on my thigh. “You’re welcome,” he said with a teasing smirk.
After a quick peck on my cheek, he pressed on the gas and pulled out onto Main Street, making a quick left to head to the overpass. Our overpass, as he called it.
The truck hadn’t been in park for ten minutes, but we were already skin to skin in the bed of his truck. I sensed hesitation as he kissed me, and I pulled back to look him in the eye.
“What’s up with you?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Uh…this is embarrassing,” he said with a nervous chuckle.
“What’s embarrassing?”
“And really inappropriate. I should have said something sooner.”
“Oh God. What?” I thought of the worst possible scenarios, so that no matter what he said, it couldn’t be as bad as I had imagined.
“So, after practice today, I get a text from Julianne.”
“Okay?”
“Sam had some time before his late case, and they invited me over to chat. They”—he cringed—“had the talk with me.”
“What talk?”
“About us. About this. About protection and—”
“Oh God! Oh no!” I said, rolling out from under him. I sat up and slipped my shirt over my head. “Please, no. Don’t tell me.”
He was amused, not at all concerned that my parents had spoken to him about our sex life. “They just wanted to make sure I wasn’t taking advantage of your situation, and that we were, you know, being careful. They know you want to go to college, and they didn’t want me screwing that up.”
I covered my face with both hands.
“Do you want to know what Sam said to me?”
I shook my head. “Not really, no.”
“He said”—Weston lowered his voice to mimic Sam’s—“‘if you’re not going to marry her, then keep your hands off another man’s future.’”
“Oh. Wow. Stop.”
“So I said, ‘Fine. Do I have your blessing to ask her?’”
“That’s not funny.”
Weston busted out laughing. “He said, ‘No!’” He shook his head and flung his arms, imitating a very flustered Sam. “I was just messing with him.”
I squinted one eye. “Please tell me you didn’t admit anything.”
“I did. I confirmed.”
I hung my head. “That we were having sex? Or that we’re using protection? I’m guessing both?”
“Correct.”
I stood up and dressed. Weston didn’t seem happy about it, but he didn’t argue.
“Are you in a hurry to get home now?”
“Well, yeah, since now they know what we’ve been up to. Every minute longer I’m gone after work, they’re more sure that we’re out…This is bad. So embarrassing.”
“We’re not in middle school anymore. We’re consenting adults.”
“Who still live at home.” I groaned. “How am I going to look them in the eye when I get back?”
“They’re not naïve. They already knew.”
“But I didn’t know they knew.”
“You’re confusing me.”
“I don’t want them to think I’m a bad person.”
“You’re not. And they don’t,” he quipped, looking away. He was holding something back.
“You’re being weird. What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.
He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “They knew about Alder and me. They weren’t thrilled, but they didn’t freak out.”
“I’m sorry I asked.”
“Me too,” he grumbled.
We took our Fantas to the cab of the truck and rode home in near silence. Once we pulled into the drive, I peeked at the house as if there were a monster waiting inside.
“They’re not going to yell at you.”
“I’m not used to all this pressure, or worrying about what parents think of me, or disappointing someone. It’s stressful.”
“Welcome to my life…and pretty much everyone else’s,” he said with a nudge and a wink.
I climbed down to the concrete, and Weston handed me my backpack. “Why did you put your apron back on?”
“I don’t know. Not coming home with it on feels like the equivalent of having my shirt on backward.”
“Good thinking. I’m going home and taking a cold shower.”
“If Julianne and Sam are waiting at the kitchen table when I walk in to talk about periods or something, I’m blaming you.”
Weston threw his head back and laughed. “It’s just part of that catching you up you get to do.”
My mouth pulled to the side. “It used to baffle me how ungrateful Alder was to have them. Now listen to me. I’m lucky they’re not sitting in there with a case of beer, cussing at me to bring them cigarettes.”
“There is no right way to do this, Erin. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”
I nodded and slid the nylon strap over my shoulder, smiling when the Chevy didn’t pull away from the curb until I had a foot in the front door. I started to walk up the stairs but noticed the kitchen light was on.
“Erin?” Julianne called, her voice shaky.
I left my backpack at the foot of the stairs and walked down the hall, leaning against the doorjamb. Julianne was sitting at the island on the first stool, her hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was wearing one of Sam’s T-shirts and navy-blue lounge pants. She was babysitting a coffee mug, but the liquid inside was milky brown, with a pile of marshmallows floating on top.