They’re still in the damn glove compartment! I just zipped up and
was like I’m sorry, Charlene, I’m so sorry.” He whines again—so I’m
not the only one it works on. “We go back into town, I drop her off
at home and head on over to your place, that was that. I couldn’t
go through with it. I didn’t wantto, how messed up is
that?”
His grin tells me he thinks the whole thing’s
a big joke, and he expects me to laugh along with him, but my mind
is still caught on the fact that he was thinking of me. Me.
Nudging me in the ribs, he asks, “I still have the receipt for
those condoms. You think I can take them back?”
Me.The knowledge is heady and makes
my head spin. Or is that the beer? I swallow down the rest of my
brew like a shot of courage and offer, “You can always use
them.”
“When?” he asks with another laugh.
“Tonight?”
Our eyes meet and lightning forks above us,
freezing the moment like a photograph, thunder hard right behind