Chapter Twenty-Nine

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Formatting this text is really pissing me off, so I've kind of given up.  No matter what formatting I pick, it does the same same thing, either no lines or too many lines.  *ANNOYED* (Of course now it worked). 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

APOV

The weather had started making that turn from almost-summer to summer, with a few days of hell-is-just-a-sauna-summer mixed in. It hadn’t been really bad, but enough that both of our apartments were hot and stuffy all day long. The only time it was better was at night, but that wasn’t enough to keep either place cool all day. I hadn’t realized it was the fourth of July until Jordan said something before she took off for the day. Tyler had left for work already, and had told me he’d call me later, so that meant I was stuck in the apartment all day without anything Tyler-ish to do. It was too fucking hot to think about Tyler, because that would have meant getting off, and while our shower was great for really hot days, it was also only one temperature of freezing cold, and it sort of killed all the fun.

I considered texting him, but that would have led to time in the shower, too, so I sort of just laid there in bed, baking in the heat, and eventually fell asleep for a while. Someone banging shit in the hall and the door to the roof slamming shut woke me up, and Jesus fucking Christ, couldn’t a bored, roasting girl without her boyfriend to mess around with take a nap? Fuck, I bet it was cooler on the roof. In the sun, but more open. Why hadn’t I thought of going up there?  

I couldn’t fall back to sleep then. I thought about going up to the roof to check out who was up there, but we weren’t really social in this building. Fuck. 

July fourth. Fourth of July.

I can’t say I was ever a patriotic person. I mean, I’ve always been happy I wasn’t born in a third-world country, but when you’re basically on your own from a kid on, and all I saw was the shitty back-alley side of the world, I didn’t really feel like celebrating our country being the greatest thing ever any day of the year. 

Really, it just seemed like another excuse for drunk people to get drunker and call it a good reason. I think that was what most holidays were for.  

I couldn’t really even remember celebrating before. It had always just been another day, and a lot of years, I’d worked anyway, so it wasn’t like there was time. I tried to think of a year when I’d done something for the fourth. I was near dozing again when the fuzzy memory came to me. Sneaking out of the house and up to the roof in… Fuck, where had I even been that year? Somewhere in Florida, because I was still younger than when I’d gone to the group home… The house had been some ugly shade of green, like an olive green. The roof was flat enough to sit on, and I think it’d been—fuck, what was his name? It was a foster home, one where the parents hoarded fosters, like they were collecting as many as they could because more kids meant more free money. Thinking back, I couldn’t really complain; they left us alone for the most part. We had food and clothes; more than other foster homes. There was a wide range of kids, and only one kid near my age. I think I was about eleven; he was a little older. We weren’t friends; you didn’t really make friends in foster homes. Not if you’d ever been in one before. You learned that really fast. If you made a friend, you might lose them any day, so we sort of… I dunno, we hung out, we watched out for each other, but we didn’t really know much about each other. It’d been his idea—the roof. I smiled, remembering…

My phone ringing woke me up; I’d fallen asleep again without really meaning to.

I fumbled for the phone, dropping it on the floor once before answering. “Fuck, hello?”

Chuckling answered me. “Fuck, hello?”

“Well it’s not like anyone else calls me really. Or the ones that do wouldn’t be surprised.” I sat up slowly, the sheet sticking to me. “Ugh. It’s so fucking hot.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Are you done with work?”

“Um. Yeah, about that…”

I groaned. “Do you have to work late or something? I’ve been so bored all day. It’s too hot to move and the sheet is literally stuck to me, and I really just want to get out of this apartment. Maybe I’ll just come over and hang out with you and pretend I’m going to buy a lot of books. I bet it’s air conditioned in there, isn’t it? I’ve been baking in here all day and you’ve been in the fucking air conditioning.” I was really whiny. Heat made me whiny.

“No, I’ve been outside for most of the day.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I kinda lied about the working thing.”

I kinda didn’t know what to say. “You...you lied to me?”

“Well…sort of.”

“How do you ‘sort of’ lie, Tyler?”

“Well it’s a holiday; the bookstore is closed today.”

I didn’t say anything. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I would have thought of that before. Before him, I would have thought of that. What the fucking fuck? 

“Why don’t you come up? Are you hungry?”

“What?” Had I missed something? I didn’t think he’d said anything when I was silent and wondering what the fuck he was lying to me for. He didn’t lie to me. What the fuck was going on? “Come up? To your apartment?”

“No, silly, the roof.”

Ok, now I was just really fucking confused. “You want me to come over to your apartment and go up to the roof? After you lied to me all day?”

He chuckled again.

“What the hell is so fucking funny? This isn’t funny.” There was a knock on the door. I was so pissed off at him I didn’t even bother telling him that I was going to the door. Let the lying fucker wait. I pulled the door with more force than necessary, but I was hot, and whiny, and now I was annoyed and seriously pissed off. “Yeah?!”

Except Tyler was on the other side of the door, smirking at me with the phone to his ear. Shirtless. Wearing just a pair of khaki-colored cargo shorts. My mouth was open—I totally know it was. And I didn’t even try to close it. I just kept staring at him. Because he was shirtless, and a little bit sunburned and his hair was plastered to his head, and looked more than a little damp. Pretty much, I just wanted to jump him right there. 

“Hot out today, huh?” He was still smirking. He took the phone away from his ear and shoved it in one of the pockets of the shorts. “Kinda hot in there, too, I take it?”

He finally rolled his eyes and took the phone away from me, shoving it in his pocket with his phone, and grabbed my hand. “You got your keys?”

I shook my head. 

He let go of my hand and nodded into the apartment. “Get them.”

I dumbly nodded and grabbed them from the counter where I’d chucked them. He took my hand again and started in the direction of my roof. He succeeded again—I was completely speechless. And I had no idea what to expect really.

He held the door for me and I realized when it banged shut loudly. “It was you!”

He stopped and looked at me, his eyebrows raised in question.

I pointed at him. “You were the one making all the noise in the hall and going up and down the stairs to the roof.”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“You woke me up,” I said like a little kid.

He stopped again, dropping down a few stairs and took my face in his hands. Oh, fucking hell. He was so close, and he pressed his lips to mine, and my eyes instantly shut. He felt warm; warmer than usual; his skin hot and damp from the sun. He smelled so fucking good right now. I don’t know if it was possible to smell like the sun, but he did; and just that, like, outside scent. I was still kinda pissed, and still confused about what he’d actually been doing up there, but for the moment, all I could think about was licking him. Licking the dampness from his chest, licking along his jaw. Fuck. His forehead was just as damp when he pressed that to mine, his lips lingering at my mouth. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I had a lot of stuff I had to carry up.”

Yeah, I didn’t really care anymore. My hands were already on his chest, fingers fanning out, rubbing the sweat into his skin. “It’s ok,” I said, completely shakily. 

“Come on.”

He dropped my hand when we made it to the roof, walking over to… There was a fucking grill on my roof. He’d hauled the table out, and there were two chairs around it; there was another lawn chair that was set apart from it; the tiki torches we’d stolen from the other building were next to it along with a boom box. At least three different colored extension cords ran along the roof going downstairs. There was already food out, and he had a cooler under the table.

“What?” I asked brilliantly, stopping after that one word.

“I’ll admit two things right away. You already know I suck at cooking—grilling apparently isn’t much better. And it’s a really fucking stupid idea to grill in weather this hot. I had to sit down twice because the heat from the grill was giving me, like, heatstroke.” He was smiling though. “The look on your face kind of made up for that, though.”

Floored. I couldn’t even begin to imagine where to start.

He shrugged, not seeming to be at all fazed by my lack of talking. “I just thought this might be nicer than trying to see anything from the ground.” He waved his hand, but he was holding a pair of grilling tongs in his hand and it just looked really funny. “Ya know, with all the crowds and fighting for a spot and all that shit.”

It sort of dawned on me then. “We’re watching fireworks?”

His eyes cut over to me, the smile back. “Yeah, I thought—I mean, if you want to. I thought we could hang out up here, have dinner and then watch them.”

“Can we see them from here?”

“This is actually a perfect spot. As long as the buildings don’t get in the way—Hell’s Kitchen, which is the perfect name for this place today, I might add, has one of the best views of the fireworks over the Hudson.”

Huh. I didn’t even know that. I was lost in thought, just kind of staring off in the direction he pointed, imagining the fireworks already, and thinking that I wasn’t at all pissed off anymore. He was so thoughtful. And he hauled all of this shit up here in this heat just so I had a nice time. God.

He scared me a little when he was just suddenly there with me, but I’d been so into my thoughts, he could have yelled on the way and he probably still would have freaked me out. “This ok?” he asked.

I nodded, leaning into him. I wondered if I’d ever get used to him doing shit like this, surprising me, turning me into an emotional mess, etc. etc. forever. “Thank you,” I managed to get out. 

“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t seen dinner.”

~ooOoo~ 

“Where did you get this grill?” I asked, surveying ‘dinner.’

 
His mouth twisted in that way that meant he’d been naughty. “I…bought it.”

“Bought it, huh?” I pointed to the grill. “I don’t mean to be—it looks great, but… What is that?”

He took a deep breath and let it out quickly. “It was Aidan’s stupid-ass idea, and I’m going to shove them up his ass the next time I see him. He had this great idea about making skewers. Fucking-fun-Fourth-of-July skewers!” 

I giggled.

He was literally peeling one off of the grill. “But see, we did it in the apartment, like, over the stove, and this is so not a stove. This is a living, breathing beast of flame, and I shouldn’t have put the cheese on here.”

I couldn’t help it, I doubled over laughing.

“It was actually really good in the apartment! It was like a burger on a stick! I even toasted the bun! My mom always toasted them when she made cheeseburgers at home.”

“Oh, Tyler,” I said, looking at the sad, burned remnant of what might have once been a skewer.

He sighed. “Yeah, I think this one’s had it.” 

I bit my lip trying not to laugh as I stood next to him. 

He looked down at me and laughed when I looked up at him. “I have another package of hot dogs. I say another, because that was what the other skewers had on them, but those burnt a long time ago. You want a hot dog?”

I put my arm around his waist. “A hot dog would be great.”

He handed me the tongs. “You wanna do this? I’ll get the other stuff out. That way we’ll actually eat tonight.”

So I grilled the hot dogs and he set out entirely too much food for two people to eat. He went a little overboard. 

The meal actually turned out really great. Some of the skewers really weren’t that bad, and he was incredibly cute, because he and Aidan had no idea what went well together on a skewer, so randomly there was fruit on one and then a marshmallow, and then he decided those were dessert skewers and made a whole set. And they weren’t half bad. 

“Ok, seriously. Where did you get the grill?”

“Truth?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s stolen. Or I’m pretty sure it is. I bought it off of a guy in a neighborhood I will never take you to; basically off the back of a van. It came complete with that set of BBQ utensils, too.” 

I laughed. “Convenient.”

“Totally.” He got up suddenly. “Oh! I forgot. There’s cake.”

“Cake?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that stolen, too?”

He shook his head. “No, I made it.”

My head pulled up. “You made it?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged.

“You made this cake?” I pointed to the cake that he sat down. 

“Yeah.”

I blinked. “This one?"

He poked me. “Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“I think I told you I could make a cake. It’s the one thing I’m good at in the kitchen. And I kept it in the cooler so it didn’t get all melt-y and wilted in the sun.” 

“I’m kind of impressed.” I turned the cake and craned my head to look at all the sides. “Does it have fruit and marshmallows in it?”

He scoffed. “No! That was Aidan! It’s just confetti cake. Frosting comes in a can, you know. You can put the fruit on it if you want.”

I tried a bite. “This is actually good.”

“Well you don’t have to sound that surprised,” he teased, smiling at me. 

~ooOoo~ 

I was disappointed when he put his shirt back on. It was getting darker though, and cooler, and while it felt nice, there was also kind of a turn-around when night hit—like the cool air felt even colder because the day had been so hot.

He was busy cleaning up, so he wasn’t really paying attention, and I could watch him completely shamelessly. Not that he cared, or hid from me, either, but it was just nice to be able to do it. He hadn’t buttoned the shirt all the way; that was a plus. His hair curled more on the ends when he was hot. He baked me a fucking cake. I mean, it was kind of unreal. 

His eyes caught mine, and he smirked, before ducking his head again and finishing. He was mine; I could do that kind of shit: stare and watch him shamelessly do something common and basic. 

When he was done and he looked at me again, he had this excited, kid-like expression on his face. I smiled and raised both eyebrows in question. 

“You wanna write your name with a sparkler?”

“What?”

He set a box on the table. “Sparklers.”

I looked back up at him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never written your name with a sparkler.”

“Should I have?” Was that an important rite of passage I missed?

“Pfffft, are you kidding me? You have no idea what you’re missing. These are the only firework that Caroline considers ‘safe.’ Seriously, you’ve never had a sparkler?!”

“Well, I mean, I’ve seen them.”

He started shaking his head. “Not even as—No, no, that’s completely unacceptable. It’s a good thing I got two boxes.” He suddenly produced another box from somewhere. “Colored and regular white. You’re gonna love them.” He opened one of the boxes and handed me one, lighting the end with his Zippo.

I wasn’t sure exactly what I was supposed to do with it. And just watching the end of it move toward me was sort of mesmerizing. I wound up just watching the whole thing burn. He immediately handed me another one and lit it. Like, if I wanted to, he would have just stood there lighting the whole fucking two boxes while I just watched them all sparkle their way to death. They were pretty cool. This one that he handed me was green. I looked at him, and he was smiling, but it was kind of a sad smile. When he caught my eye, it lost the sad look. “You like them?”

“Yeah, they’re cool. How do I write my name?"

“You just have to move it really fast.” He took another one of the box and lit it off of mine. And started waving it in the air like a fucking maniac. His name might have been in there somewhere, in with all the circles and squiggles and shapes he was making. “It’s like a trick on your eyes.”

Huh. Who’d have thought? The only thing I’d ever seen kids do with sparklers was run up and down the street screaming. No one I’d seen ever moved them around like this. It was neat. It was fun, too. I hadn’t noticed that he sat down until I burned my way through several more of them. He was smiling, watching me, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he looked happy, and I kind of couldn’t stop smiling myself. I hadn’t really been a kid much. It was fun to do kid stuff, even now. Kind of felt like payback or something for all the shit I put up with.

“Where did you get these? I think we might need to get more.”

He chuckled. “Well…I may or may not have had to go to New Jersey to get those. And I may or may not have bought them out of the back of another van.”

“What?” 

He shrugged. “Fireworks are actually illegal in New York. They’re illegal in New Jersey, too, but we’ve been getting them for years regardless. People don’t really get busted for it unless you’re setting off bottle rockets from a roof or something. Or someone turns you in.”

“Sparklers aren’t really fireworks, are they?”

He barked out a laugh. “Funny, that’s actually what my father used to say. Which for him was, well, I mean, he’s Charles Hawkins; he doesn’t do illegal shit. Or at least he doesn’t do it unless it’s questionable ethically and involves a deal, so it’s technically legal, even though it’s unethical. He always had that kind of shit when I was younger. And for Caroline. He set them off right on the sidewalk. Once he checked out, I still went and got sparklers and other little stuff for Caroline. But technically, we’re breaking the law right now.”

I sighed, laughing. “You’re such a bad influence.”

“I know, I know.” He handed me a smaller box. “You’re easily corrupted. Try these.”

I might have squealed. “Oh, man! Snap dragons! These I’ve had before! I totally didn’t even remember! Kids used to stockpile these when they were around in July and then keep them around all fucking year and terrorize other kids or foster parents.” I flung one to the roof, laughing at the loud popping sound.

Tyler chuckled. “Save a few and scare the shit out of Aidan and I’ll be indebted to you forever.”

“I can so fucking do that. We used to put them under toilet seats and wait for people to come out of bathrooms screaming. That’d be a good one for Aidan.”

Tyler’s smile was nearly breaking his face. He blew out a breath of smoke. “And I’m the bad influence?”

I shrugged, flinging one in his direction and giggling at the noise. “If we’re bad together, does that make us good?”

“Definitely.” He put his cigarette out. “The fireworks are gonna start soon. We’re moving over there.”

He pointed to the other lawn chair. “I gotta get the music queued.” 

“Music? There’s only one chair.”

He made a noise. “You’re sitting on my lap.”

“Oh.” I smiled, really happy about that. “Music?”

“You can’t have the full Hudson River fireworks experience without the music.”

He moved the boom box closer to the chair. The cord for it looked like it went down the stairs to the building. “Are those all extension cords?”

He nodded. “I panicked when the extension cords I brought didn’t reach the outlet. I had to run out and buy three more to reach it.”

I laughed. “How many do you have strung together?”

“Something ridiculous like fourteen. There are no outlets on this roof at all. I checked the entire thing. And the closest one to the roof is way down the fucking hallway. Every time a door opened, I thought it was going to be you and you were going to bust me all fucking day.”

It suddenly dawned on me the entire… He had to carry all this shit up here. Not just the grill, but the food, the boom box, the cords, all this shit. How many trips had he made up and down just to do this for me? I waited until he was done messing with the boom box and when he stood up, I grabbed his face, and pulled him down to me. 

“Hey,” was all he said, really quietly, before his hands just wrapped around my waist and his eyes closed, kissing me back.

He made everything special. Even things that I didn’t think could be made special. 

I jumped when the first firework exploded in the sky and the boom followed. He tightened his grip on me, and I loved that he didn’t stop kissing me just because they started. I stood on my tiptoes once he moved back, kissing him once more. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” He was smiling at me, happy, but surprised by my thank you, I think. He turned to start the music and then pulled me over to the chair to sit on his lap. My legs hung over his and dangled there while he enveloped me from behind. My head just automatically went back on his shoulder while I looked up. The air was cooler and he was warm and he felt so…comfortable. I couldn’t stop the sigh that tumbled out, and I loved the way his hands tightened on my stomach in response, and the way he pressed a kiss to my cheek. 

He wasn’t kidding about the view. A few of the fireworks were blocked by buildings, and we couldn’t see the really low ones, but otherwise, this was a perfect spot. And just us, too. There were six different sets of fireworks every time they set them off, all over the river. Big round ones that exploded right after and sometimes during another one; red, white, and blue all together. I really don’t think I’d ever seen that many fireworks in one place. There were a lot of fucking fireworks. Some kind of hung in the air and reminded me of a willow tree—those were almost calming. Some kind of looked like…well, cauliflower. 

“Cauliflower?!” Tyler said, laughing it out in the same breath.

“Yeah.” I nodded against him. “The shape.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen any cauliflower out there, but rock on, babe.” I pinched him after that one.

Some went way higher in the air and looked like they were all 3-D coming at you, like you could just reach out and touch them, only to coolly spin out and slink away like worms. Some were shapes I’d never seen before, and shit that I didn’t think could be in a firework, like hearts and flowers and star shapes. There were colors I’d never seen before, either. Most of the fireworks shows I saw before were pretty low-grade and usually didn’t have anything other than red, white, and blue, maybe green if you were lucky. These started coming in purples and yellows, too. 

“I like those kind,” Tyler said after another set started. 

I snickered. “The glittery ones, huh?”

“Yeah, glitter is totally masculine when it’s in reference to fireworks.” 

“They are pretty cool. Sort of like stars twinkling.”

“If I would have said twinkling, you would have just given me more shit.”

“Probably, yeah.”

Towards the end of the show, there were tons of tiny fireworks, and so much color that just hung in the air. Some kind of reminded me of Vegas; the shimmery lights, and they chased each other, all spinning out like lightening bugs I saw one time in Florida. Right before the finale there were bow-shaped ones and even smiley faces, which was just fucking cool. The finale was so loud, and there was so much smoke, it filtered everywhere like they were burning the fucking place down. Just cluster upon cluster of fireworks all together. It was pretty impressive. 

We didn’t move after it was done, the boom box still playing what I could only think to call marching music.

Tyler nuzzled my head with his chin before leaving it resting there. “So did you like them?”

“Yeah, they were great. You were right; it was a great view.”

“Yeah, I liked the view.”

I chuckled and burrowed farther into him.

“You getting cold?”

“A little."

“You wanna go in?”

“No.” I shook my head against him.

“I brought a blanket.”

I turned my head to look up at him. “Did you now?”

“I thought of everything.”

I laughed. “I guess you did. Is this comfortable for you though?”

“We could lie on the mattress. I could bring it over here.”

I elbowed him sitting forward a little. “Were you coming on to me, or telling me that cuddling here is not comfortable?”

“Well it’s the chair. I should have picked a different chair. I just think it’d be easier cuddling on the mattress.” 

I didn’t say anything, just kept looking at him.

He ducked his head a second. “And…if we happen to start making out or something, it’d be so much easier there.”

“Uh huh.”

“You gonna turn me down?”

“Of course not,” I said, scrunching my eyebrows at him. 

And I had to laugh when he all but dumped us out of the chair to get the mattress. He moved fast when he was motivated. Once he had it moved over, he flopped down and grinned up at me, hands folded under his head. “You gonna join me or what?”

I smiled and shook my head at him. “That was so romantic.”

“Come on, gimme a break, I’ve been romantic all day.” 

I rested my head on one of his arms, smiling at his profile. “Yeah, you have been. Thank you.”

I could see him smile, but his head stayed looking up at the sky. “You’re welcome.”

“Can I ask you a favor though?”

His head turned to me. “Of course.”

“Can you turn off this marching shit now?”

He laughed and eased his arm out from under my head before he rolled to turn the music off. He rolled back and stayed on his side instead. “It’s good for the ambiance but not so much for the relaxing after.”

“Not unless we were gonna march around the roof.” 

“So how many fireworks shows have you seen, and how does this one stack up?”

“Ricky,” I said suddenly.

His eyebrows went up in question. “Who’s Ricky?”

“I couldn’t think of his name before. Ricky. His name was Ricky.” I smiled, rolling on my back to look up at the sky myself, dark and still a little hazy from the smoke of the fireworks. Tyler didn’t push for an answer, and I let the noises of the city just wash over us for a few minutes.

“He was one of the other foster kids in this house I was at for a while in Florida. I must have been eleven, I guess. They were basically scamming the system, collecting foster kids for the cash it got them. I mean, it definitely wasn’t the worst place I was ever in; they didn’t really care enough to abuse anybody. We were just kind of on our own. They fed us and stuff, so it wasn’t a bad place. There were a lot of other kids though, and only one kid that was near my age.”

“Ricky?” Tyler provided.

“Yeah.”

“And he was a good fourth of July memory?”

I shrugged. “He’s pretty much the only other memory I can think of for the holiday.” I paused, but Tyler didn’t say anything else. I guess there wasn’t really much to say to that. “We weren’t really friends, but we sort of looked out for each other. There was usually some sort of drama in the house. With that many kids, there was gonna be. And I think he just wanted to get out. I remember he asked if we could go to the park to see the fireworks, and they said no. I’d gotten really excited about the idea when he said something, so I think he felt bad, too. I dunno, but he had this idea to sneak out, and we wound up climbing up to the roof because he thought we’d be able to see them from there.”

“Could you see them?”

“Yeah, most of them. They were kinda far away, but we could see most of them, or at least part of them.

“You hadn’t seen fireworks before then?”

“I’m sure my grandma took me. I think things were good with her. I think she was the best thing that I got, really. It just didn’t last long.” 

“She passed away, right?”

I smiled. I always thought that term was stupid. Passed away? What the fuck did that even mean? It was just the nice way of saying someone had died. But Tyler was trying to be gentle; even the way he said it was sort of careful and hesitant, like he didn’t want to upset me. It was probably the first time anyone had actually used that term and I wasn’t pissed about it. “Yeah I think when I was about seven or eight. I don’t really remember. I just remember being shipped off to my aunt, and she wasn’t happy about taking me in. Sometimes I think that was probably worse than a foster home. Because she didn’t care. I was just there. I wasn’t her kid, and she didn’t want me, and I knew that.”

“But she was family,” Tyler added for me.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly back.

I flipped again so I could see him. He was always so sincere. “You don’t have to be sorry. I wasn’t telling you because I wanted you to be sorry.”

His hand darted out and grabbed mine, squeezing it gently before his thumb started rubbing lightly back and forth on my knuckles. 

“Did you see fireworks after Ricky?”

“Yeah, here and there. I mean, I didn’t go looking for them. Vegas has a lot of fireworks, but they’re not really big productions like this. More like just a few at a time. I usually worked, too.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t have good holidays.”

I waved him off. “It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. I survived. They’re overrated anyway.”

He shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think they’re overrated. I think you just had to underrate them because they usually sucked. And that’s shitty.”

I sighed, thinking about that for a minute. I probably did do that. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So was this better than Ricky’s or do I have to outdo myself next year?"

I smiled and pulled my hand away from his, cupping his cheek instead. “Tyler, come on. I mean, he was twelve. And he took me up on a house roof. Helped me climb up and everything. His was so much cooler.”

He twisted his mouth, trying not to smile. “I see.”

I giggled. “Poor Tyler, outdone by a twelve year old.”

“Well, Caroline can run circles around me, I’m not really surprised.” He sighed heavily. “It’s ok. My ego can take it.”

I scooted closer to him, nuzzling my nose against his. “Plus, Ricky had mystery. I didn’t even know his last name.”

“Oh, come on. I can’t compete with that! That’s so unfair!”

I shrugged. “Sorry. You can’t win ‘em all, Tyler.”

He sighed again. “Well, did Ricky cover anything else? Did he have food made, and a cake? I bet he didn’t have any cake.”

“I don’t remember cake, that’s true. There might have been snacks though. Stolen, of course.” I nodded.

“I bought that grill off the back of a van. It fell off of someone’s front yard and into a van. And I bought illegal fireworks for you to play with. We could have burned the entire building down. That’s so dangerous. I’m so much more dangerous. Admit it. I’m a badass and Ricky is just a kid with some candy that hauled you up to a roof to see half of a firework.”

I made a big show of considering that before answering. “Well…I guess it’s… Nah, it’s about even.”

He tickled me then—until I nearly kicked him to get him to stop. I was breathless and red-faced and he was holding my arms up above my head, trapped there. He was smiling; a huge, amazingly happy smile, and his face was so close to mine. He leaned down once and kissed me, his eyes slipping closed. I forced myself to keep mine open. When he looked down at me again, I couldn’t help it. “Ricky’s kiss was better.”

“Oh, fucking hell.” He started the tickling again, and by the time he stopped this time, I was somewhere between panting and rolling us, and I could feel him hard against me.

He stopped my rolling; pinning me with his body instead, my arms still over my head, but his grip had lessened a little. His breathing was just as fucked as mine was, and he was still grinning at me, but then he got all serious, and I didn’t really give a shit anymore. His mouth crashed into mine, hard enough that I thought our teeth were going to slam together, and our lips would come away bloody. Didn’t stop me from kissing him back just as hard. 

He let go of my hands, shifting to grind against me, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted my fingers in his hair or on his body. So I pretty much just did both while our lips got all swollen. I felt hot again, but the air was cooler—it was a completely different kind of hot—one that usually only Tyler set off. 

He pressed his forehead against mine and pulled back just enough so our lips weren’t touching. “What do you want tonight?”

It took me a second to figure out what he was asking me; probably longer than it should have. But there was always part of me that wondered what more I could actually want or ask for. Seemed like he’d done more than enough already. But! He also asked. So why the fuck shouldn’t I be greedy? He was still watching me, a small smile forming, like he was starting to think I was coming up with something really odd to ask for. “Will you go down on me?”

He pressed his lips to mine once, gently, still smiling, fingers already dropping to start lifting my tank top. “Absolutely.” I shivered as I lifted my arms so he could get it off, the temperature cool enough that I got goosebumps right away—or it could have just been Tyler, I didn’t really stop to dwell on it. I started on his shirt buttons the same time he popped the clasp on my bra, and didn’t even get to finish taking his shirt off before his mouth was on me again. But then his tongue was swirling around my nipple, and his shirt could just fucking come off later. I couldn’t stop arching up at him because when he switched to the other nipple the cool air hit the one he’d just left, and it was already hard just from his mouth. 

I jerked harder than I really meant to—reaction only—when his teeth closed on the nipple; my moan getting louder when he just followed me, and switched to sucking it harder. “Fuck, Tyler.”

He backed up, still licking. “Too hard?”

“God, no,” I panted, “just—” My hands landed in his hair and I started pushing him down. 

He breathed out a laugh. “I can take a hint.”

I hadn’t really meant that he should… hell, maybe I did. It didn’t matter because he was already licking and kissing his way down my belly. My hands stayed in his hair while he wrestled my shorts and underwear off; mostly because it gave them something to do, something to hang on to. His hair felt nice though, too. I liked the way it felt under my fingers. And I liked that I could almost feel more of what he was doing because I was connected to him that way, too. 

He didn’t have to even ask or motion for me to open my legs wider; I think it was automatic now—which made me smile for some reason.

His fingers followed the same path as his mouth, catching up, framing the sides of my pussy. I could never stop the way that my stomach clenched when his fingertips skimmed over my hips, his thumbs tracing the inside of my thighs. I was wet already; I could feel it. He knew it, too. 

My hips arched just as automatically as my legs parted for him the second his fingers were parting me, and his head dipped to lick at my slit. The sound of his moan when he tasted me was almost more—the first feeling of his mouth was always amazing already—but the idea that he wanted to do it, that he liked doing it—I couldn’t really figure out how to explain it, even to myself. It was something physical he was doing, but the moan made it seem like it was much more than that. I didn’t know what word to call it, but that feeling—I hope he felt that, too, when I did something to him. 

The vibration from his moan went right to my clit like it was a completely immediate reaction—like the two were tied together by an invisible string and my clit was burning and begging for him to touch it, or move his mouth there. I couldn’t decide which I wanted more; his fingers in me and his mouth on my clit, or his mouth on me and his fingers on my clit. I knew if I asked, he’d do whichever I wanted, but it was almost better to just let him lead. The surprise was better. And he sure as fuck knew exactly what he was doing. He was so good at this.

To prove me right, he did both: his fingers moved to hold me open while his tongue pushed inside. There was no way to choose which felt better. Anything he did when he was going down on me was perfect. His tongue felt so wet, and hot, and he started so slow, pushing it inside me and lapping like he could get to every inch, and that’s pretty much exactly what it felt like he was doing. And just when I’d adjust to one feeling, he’d completely change it up and then his tongue was moving faster and his fingers were tugging on my lips and it was so. fucking. good. 

It was a really good thing New York was a loud city, because I really didn’t hold anything back, we were outside, and basically anyone who wanted to could have heard me from blocks away. Because after all that goodness, he completely flipped the switch; his fingers were curling inside me, his mouth was sucking my clit into oblivion, and there was so much tension in my body, it felt like my stomach was a bunch of knotted coils that just kept piling up on each other, and it just kept spreading.

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to clench my thighs around him more, or spread so he had even more access, but the tension was rolling there, too. It was an odd feeling to have so much heat and goosebumps at the same time. The coolness of the night air didn’t help anything. I think it actually increased it. He was so warm. His hands, his body—his mouth was a furnace of heat, and I felt like my entire lower half was glowing with heat, too. The flush felt like it was coming in waves up my stomach and chest, but the air kept my nipples hard, and my fingers felt like they were falling asleep. The differences made everything feel tingly. Or for all I knew, it was all him. I had no doubt he was that powerful.

I came with my hips arched up at him, shoving myself back on his mouth harder than I meant to. It didn’t stop him, or really seem to faze him at all, and just went right along licking and sucking and fingering me, even with me tugging fistfuls of his hair with my fingers. If that ever bothered him, he never said anything. I think he liked that he got me that far—that I felt like I needed something to hang onto.

I flopped back on the mattress, that weird feeling of half-exhausted/half-energized that seemed to settle after a really great orgasm. I always wanted to say shit to him after—I wanted to thank him for the really great night, for thinking about the fireworks and that he even thought about wanting me to get to see them—but I was never a words person. I didn’t even know where to begin. How do you even start to thank someone for that? I knew what I’d say would just come up short, and it wouldn’t come out at all like I wanted it to. 

I could feel his cheek, all rough with stubble, resting against my thigh. His breathing was still a little fast, and I was sure he was hard. I kept one hand resting on his head, no tugging now, just combing my fingers through his hair. I cupped his head, picking my head up from the mattress to look down at him, but by then he was already moving over me.

He wiped his mouth at some point, but the minute he pressed his lips to mine, I could still taste me there. I couldn’t put that into words either—how much of a fucking turn on that was. And that until we showered, he was going to smell like me. It kind of made me think of telling him never to shower. That way I could go places with him smelling that way like I marked him. I didn’t even know what to do with those kinds of thoughts. I mean, I knew he was mine. There was no reason to fucking turn it inside out for all to see. And I never really wanted anyone to know my business before. I still didn’t. But I liked the idea of someone else realizing that it was me that was all over him. 

I started reaching for his shorts, getting the button open and the zipper down. I could feel the bulge there, and I didn’t want to make him wait any longer. He took a second to press his forehead to mine when I snaked a hand inside his boxers. His eyes slipped closed and the shift in his face was amazing. I liked that I put that there, too.

I used my other hand to start shoving the material out of the way. It needed to be off. He used one of his to help me, the other needed to keep him balanced so he didn’t topple over us. I don’t even know how we really accomplished getting them off, but as long as they were out of my way, I didn’t really give a shit. 

His hand came back to rest next to my shoulder, making a dent in the mattress, while I kept stroking him. His forehead didn’t move from mine; he liked the closeness. Maybe it was the closeness that made it sound like I was whispering when I asked, “What do you want tonight?” I meant to put more emphasis on the you part. I was using his same question; I wanted him to know that I wanted the same thing for him. I wanted to give him whatever he wanted. 

His eyes opened slowly, and I stopped the stroking, just holding onto him instead. He backed up a little, like he was considering his options, or was trying to figure out what I wanted him to say. “Whatever you want,” I added, trying to take any question out. 

He was struggling. And he didn’t do that often. I got the impression he wanted to say something, but thought he couldn’t—or didn’t know how to say it. That was very un-Tyler-like. There wasn’t anything he could want that I didn’t want to give him. He wasn’t looking at me directly anymore. I tugged on his cock to get him to focus again. “Anything you want,” I repeated. 

He opened and closed his mouth exactly three times before he actually started, and he was still struggling. “I don’t—I don’t know.” He shook his head a few times, thinking before he blew out a breath. “I just want to feel you.” It came out all choppy and not in a smooth sentence. He shrugged at the end; just one shoulder, just a tiny bit. But he looked incredibly…unsure. It wasn’t really something new. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen it before, but he was usually sure of just about everything. And I thought things had been good since his birthday. We’d sort of gone back to being normal. That had sort of set us back on track. I cupped his cheek to get him to look at me again. He needed to know that I wasn’t going to chuckle at his request or suggest something else. What he asked for was incredibly simple. Whatever he meant by that, that’s what he’d get. I just needed a little more to go on.

“K, what does that mean?”

I liked that he didn’t look away from me this time, he held my gaze, but he didn’t answer right away.

And he looked away the second after he said, “I don’t know.” 

I still had my hand on his cheek, and I forced him back again. “Then I guess we have to figure that out.” I mean… I could do just about anything to him. It wasn’t like I couldn’t come up with shit to do. I basically had the history of sex acts as memories, so I could be creative. But I needed to know what he was looking for, and he didn’t really seem to know. That was a really fuzzy and loose request. There was nothing direct to go on, or build from really. It wasn’t like he said, I want to feel you with your mouth or I want your hands on me—those I could make work easily. He needed help figuring out what the fuck he even meant—it was that unclear.

He looked lost. 

“Ok, what do you want to feel? Is it just a part of me, or do you want me to use just a part of me on you?” That would help narrow it down at least. 

“No…I just want you.”

“You already have me. Do you mean you just want to be close to me?”

He considered that a second. “Yeah,” came out in a sigh, but that wasn’t the full answer. 

“Do you want me to hold you?”

He shook his head once. “No.”

I nodded once instead of saying anything. Something that allowed him to feel me…but still sexual. I thought of his birthday, and him asking to rub against me. That was something close with sex still included. It was different tonight though; we were naked, and he rubbing against me would be just that side of too close. So that same idea would maybe work, but he had to have some place else to thrust.

I tugged on him again, gentler this time. “C’mere. I have an idea.”

He just let me move him, but I don’t think he really figured out what I was suggesting until I actually told him to start thrusting. Because basically all I did was curl my legs around him, and just switch the direction of his hips for thrusting, positioning his cock in the groove where my thigh met my hip. It didn’t seem at all like a good place for friction, but with my legs around him loosely, it was really a great spot. And just like his birthday, it was pretty much the motions of sex without the actual sex. I could pull him close, and hold him even if he said he didn’t want that—he wanted it, and he looked less lost right away. 

There wasn’t really a way for me to get off in this position—and that was fine. I wanted this for him anyway, and I wanted to be able to focus on him. I wanted him to just be able to feel everything in general. So I made sure I kept my hands on him, pulling him closer until most of his body was touching mine in one way or another. I kept my touch gentle and unfocused—other times I would have concentrated on places that I knew turned him on, but I wanted him to be able to just focus on the feel of the thrusting without me fucking up his rhythm on purpose. So I kept my fingers grazing or holding onto him, no teasing. 

It was probably weird, but I liked when he was focused on himself. He really didn’t do it a lot—not in this same way; and watching him like this, his eyes closed and his breathing ragged, the way he leaned into my touch—this had been a really great idea.

I could tell he was close, and I realized if he stayed in this position, the come was going to wind up all over the mattress. For a second, I debated telling him to finish on my tits, but he would have had to change position to do that, and this seemed more…intimate, I guess. Yeah, that was the word I think I was looking for. While the whole coming-on-tits is hot, it’s also super-porn-y, and kind of detached. I could save that particular suggestion for a different night.

So I thought he’d like it better if I stroked him through it instead and he came on me instead of on the mattress. Hell, if he shot far enough, some of it might have reached my tits anyway. There was a lot I could do with the come if it was on me, and I wanted that—like him marking me with it.

His breathing had changed, and when I looked up at him again, his eyes were open this time. He was watching me, waiting, but I wasn’t exactly sure what for. He should have known he didn’t need permission. Maybe he was just curious. My hip was so fucking wet; coated in his pre-come. I reached for him, pulling him so he was hovering over me, and then started stroking again.

Yep, good choice. His head dropped between his shoulders and the moans he was letting out—he sounded like he was really happy my hand was back on him. I loved how his body adjusted and kept rolling forward into my strokes. 

I slowed my strokes the second his orgasm hit, moaning with him as come splashed over my stomach. I kept stroking until there was nothing left, and then just held onto him. My other hand went automatically in the mess of come, rubbing some into my skin and bringing some to my mouth. He made a noise while watching me lick him off of my fingers, and then his mouth crashed into mine while his body pressed down into me. I could feel his cock, still half-hard, still almost vibrating or pulsing from the orgasm, pressed right into the hair above my pussy. All I could think of as his tongue lashed at mine was that with one simple movement, he’d be inside me. I was wet again, or I’d really never stopped, and he tasted so good. Just one simple shift. How easy it would be. So easy. I think…I think maybe I wanted that. I wanted him to just do it; to take the questions and the maybes away and just fucking do it. I knew he wouldn’t; he would never erase my decision in it—but I think I wanted him to. Just to be wrapped up in the feeling of everything, in the way he felt so mine, covered in his come, his mouth gentle but still greedy, his body warm and heavy, my hands on his sides. My hips were rolling up into him already.

Just one simple shift. Reaching for him again would be so easy. 

He was kissing my neck, his tongue licking after every press of his lips. His breath was so warm. It took me a second to realize that he was talking. “Do you wanna keep going?”

It took me even longer to realize what he was asking. Like he read my fucking mind. “I have a condom.” 

I think I might have actually jerked. I didn’t mean to—but the reality of what I was thinking about was literally about to happen if I wanted it. And I wasn’t sure what to say now. Because now it was here—right here.   

He pulled back almost immediately. Not angrily or anything, but I could just see him shift. He kissed me gently and smiled, and grabbed the blanket we used when we were sitting in the lawn chair to cover us up.

He flopped on his back again, and I turned to roll into him, but I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to him. I mean, I don’t think he needed me to say anything, but I kind of thought I should. Not an apology; he read me well enough to know that I was turned on, and obviously was having thoughts about continuing, but he also read me well enough to know I wasn’t ready yet. I think it was more gratitude I wanted to express. A lot of guys wouldn’t have stopped, or there would have been more said about it. 

“You getting cold?” he asked.

“A little, yeah.”

“Let’s go in.” He grabbed his shorts, leaving his shirt off, and left me wrapped up in the blanket. He dragged the mattress back under the cover, but seemed to be leaving the rest.

“What about the other stuff up here?”

He gave it a glance, but we were already moving to the door. “Eh, I’ll worry about it later. C’mon.”

I giggled suddenly, thinking how we’d been naked on this roof for half the night and the idea that anyone in buildings higher than mine could have gotten quite a show. 

“What?” He opened the door for me.

I giggled again, and leaned up against him, pressing him into the door. “I just realized that any building around us could have had quite a view tonight.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I guess they could have.” He pressed a kiss to the end of my nose. “Is that a problem? Are you jealous that chicks all over this neighborhood could have been checking out the goods with binoculars?”

I tipped my head up, nipping at his jaw. “Nah, that doesn’t bother me.” And then I started down the stairs. 

The door shut heavily, and he hurried to get in front of me on the stairs. “Wait, wait, wait. What exactly are you saying here?”

I shrugged, the blanket slipping off of my shoulder. “Nothing. It was just an observation.”

He blinked at me, standing in the middle of the way so I either had to dodge around him, or stay right there. 

I let my eyebrows go up. “What? They can get the same show if they come down to Big Eddie’s. Nudity isn’t really a hang-up of mine, ya know. Stripper,” I provided needlessly. I gestured to him. “And you, they saw at best your bare ass, which again, does not make me embarrassed or anything. It’s a nice ass. I’m ok with them appreciating it.”

He blinked again. “So…wait, now.”

I had to bite my lip. He was so easy to mess with.

“So…are you saying that you don’t have a problem with other women checking me out, or are you saying that you don’t have a problem with other women checking you out, or are you saying you don’t have a problem with other people in general watching us get off?”

I considered that for a minute. “Well, I mean, I don’t have a problem with people seeing me in general—because I’m not exactly modest. And because of my job it’s not really fair for me to say that other people can’t look at you, either. People watching us—that I’m not sure of yet. I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought until now. It’s kind of a rush. The idea. Dunno, we’ll have to explore that more later.” 

I’m not exactly sure how much of that he took in. He shook his head. “I’m still thinking.”

I turned him around on the steps, and climbed on his back. “Then give me a ride while you think. I’m getting tired, and you think forever. At this rate, we’ll be in this stairway until morning.”

He didn’t respond to my teasing, and gave me a piggy-back ride the rest of the way to my room. He eased me down when we were in the bathroom. “I should shower. I spent basically all day sweaty. You wanna shower with me? I got you all messy.”

I shook my head. “You go ahead. I’ll just wash it off while I brush.”

He nodded once, mumbling about the size of the shower again. He totally wasn’t remembering either, and I just had to let him do it—I think it was gonna be a fast shower. I tried to muffle the giggles that were threatening to pop out. Right before he shut the door, his head poked back out. 

“How much of that were you serious about up there?”

I smiled at him warmly. “I’m gonna get some pajamas. I’ll be right back.”

“Allison!”

I poked my head back in the door. “’Bout half.”

“Which half?” he called after me.

I just laughed.

“Fuck. Which half!?”

I heard the shower door click and he turned on the spray. I hadn’t actually left the bathroom; I couldn’t miss this.

He pretty much screamed like a girl. It was just a more manly pitch. And it was followed by, “Jesus Christ! Fucking hell, that’s cold! Oh my God!” There was a lot of panted, grunted, disgusted noises after that—and I couldn’t stop laughing.

I smartly used just a washcloth to get clean, and was already dressed for bed in one of his T-shirts and shorts, brushing when he stumbled out of the shower, shivering. I handed him a towel, smiling around the toothbrush. He sort of scowled, but I think he was too cold to really stay annoyed. 

“I can’t feel my fingers.” He presented them to me as though I should be able to see that. 

“Yeah?”

“Your shower is like the arctic.”

I smacked his forehead. “That’s why we’ve been showering at your apartment, dumbass.”

“Oh, right.”

I snickered, spitting in the sink.

“Why hasn’t he done something about that? The landlord, I mean. Didn’t you guys talk to him, like, a long time ago already?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s ordered or some shit. He just keeps stalling.”

“Seriously you don’t want me to go talk to him?”

“No, it’s ok. He’ll do it eventually.”

“So you deliberately let me get in that shower full-well knowing it was going to freeze my balls off, right?”

“Well, if nothing else, I figured you probably needed the cold after,” I paused, pointed up at the ceiling, “I made you stop on the roof.”

His face softened. “It’s fine.”

And like usual, I think it really was. He was being completely honest. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He paused, and then moved forward, his arms framing me, pressing me back into the sink. He had me trapped—not that I wanted to move. “So which half?”

I snorted. “Subtle.”

“Well, I thought it was a good time to bring it up again.”

“The last half.”

“The part about people watching us?”

I shrugged one shoulder, nodding, but I looked down. 

He ducked to catch my eye-line. “No judgment. I’m just curious.”

“I dunno. It’s just…exciting? Or the idea of someone else knowing. Do you know what I mean?” I wasn’t sure I even knew what I meant.

His smile was completely open and easy; no judgment, no teasing, no trace of him thinking that I was super weird for saying that. “Sure. I get that.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“K. I’m not sure what that means really. Or what I want from that.” I ducked my head again, my fingers tucking into the towel now tied around his waist. 

“S’ok. We’ll figure it out.” 

He was still pressing me back into the sink, my body still trapped between his arms. He was the only person that I think could have done that to me and still made me feel comfortable, made me feel safe. His voice was soft, and when he said shit like that, it was always with this… I didn’t really know what to call it. He wasn’t some poser trying to get into my pants. He remembered. He cared. He followed through. It was like a quiet confidence—no bullshit—no lies—he was completely serious. He said what he meant, and he meant what he said, and he never made me felt stupid along the way. I respected the fuck out of that much honesty. It was rare.

I always believed that he’d come through because he’d never given me a reason to doubt him yet. So I flicked my eyes up to him and nodded, because there really wasn’t anything else for me to say.

He kissed me quickly. “You wanna sleep now?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He brushed quickly, and I was already in bed by the time he got there. I tucked into him, and for some reason loved that his chest was still slightly damp from the shower—like coming to bed was more important than drying off. 

“So…” he started.

My head was on his chest, his chin nuzzling in. “Yeah?”

“Was Ricky your first kiss?”

“Um…yeah, I guess he would have been. I don’t remember there being one before then. So, yeah.”

“What happened to him?”

“I dunno. I don’t even remember which one of us got moved first. I think I did. It happened all the time; it was better if you didn’t get attached.”

“Were you attached?”

“Probably more than I should have been, yeah. It was hard when you actually liked someone you were in a foster with. But after you’re in the system for a while, you know you won’t be together for long ever. I mean I didn’t even know his last name.”

“That’s too bad. Coulda looked him up.”

“Right, like he’d remember me. We were just kids.”

“Allison, I’m sure he remembers you.” He didn’t say that in that way that people do to make you feel better—he was completely serious. “I don’t think anyone could forget you. I mean that in a good way.” He squeezed me gently. “I bet he wishes he knew your last name, too.”

I really didn’t know what to say. 

He sighed. “S’too bad, really. I’d like to thank him.”

“Pfffft. For what?”

“Being your only good memory of Fourth of July up to tonight.”

Jesus Christ. I sighed happily. “Yours really was better.”

He wound up jolting both of us. “I knew it!” I laughed because he sounded ridiculously excited, and vindicated. “Knew it!” He paused for a second before he added, “It was the sparklers, right?”

“Mighta been the orgasm.” I paused for a second and then added. “Sometimes fireworks kinda look like sperm. Or like come explosion.” 

He busted up laughing, shaking us both again. “What?”

I made the motion in the air like the firework shooting into the sky and then followed it with my fingers splayed out. “Sperm. Come explosion.”

He kept laughing and it was completely infectious. We wound up all tangled together, kinda breathless. “Well, now that’s all I’ll think of every time I see fireworks. Come explosion will be with me forever.”

“Well! It does!”

“That was really hot, by the way.” 

“What?”

“Coming on you. And you licking it off. I can’t decide which was better.”

I smirked. “I thought you might like that.” I was really happy he liked it, though. I was glad I thought of it.

“Well at least Ricky never got that far.”

I laughed. “Nope. Just a kiss. It was really more like a peck. He wasn’t very smooth as I remember.”

“I was way smoother.”

“Oh yeah, totally. And the planning was better. You even had music. Ricky didn’t have music.”

There was another bit of silence before he came out with the zinger: “Wonder if his last name was Martin.”

I burst out laughing, picking my head up to look at him. “Oh my God, you are such a fucking dork. Ricky Martin?”

He shrugged, smirking. “Just asking.”

“It’s a good thing you plan well, ‘cause otherwise you got nothing going for you.”

“But I’m so witty!”

“Uh huh.”

I put my head down on his chest again. 

“Wonder if they have record of that shit.”

“What?”

“Well, of foster transfers and shit. You’d have access right? Because you were there.”

I really never thought of that. There weren’t too many foster experiences I wanted to remember, or look up. “I dunno. I guess?”

“Would you want to?”

“I’m not sure. What if he really didn’t remember me? Or I broke his heart, and his life has been shit ever since?”

“You are pretty powerful,” he teased. “I imagine your twelve-year-old self was a force to be reckoned with. Breaking lil boys’ hearts, leading them on with your sexy stare.”

“Ew, Tyler.”

He chuckled. “Think about it. If you want. We can try to find him. If not, forget I said anything, and I’ll just continue to make jokes about Ricky Martin.”

I nuzzled my face against his chest. “Thanks.”

I was just about asleep when he suddenly asked, “Wouldn’t it be totally hilarious if his last name turned out to be Martin?”

I turned my head and nipped at him. “You’re hopeless, Tyler.”

“Eh. You love it. You’d be so bored without me.”

“Among other things.”

“Stupid Ricky Martin.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“He got your first kiss. I dunno. I’m kinda…jealous.”

“He was twelve, Tyler.”

“It doesn’t have to be rational. I just have this image of him now—like some lil Latin-lover brat, making moves on my future girlfriend.”

“I don’t think twelve-year-olds think that far ahead. He was also white, and blonde.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Ok then.”

“I’m not jealous of whatever girl was your first kiss—for the record. I don’t really care. Because you’re mine now. Are you gonna shut up now? Because I’m tired.”

“No, I’m still kinda pissed. And her name was Heather even though you don’t care. We were six. She kissed me in the coat closet before school started. I didn’t ask for it. She basically planted one on me and then flipped her hair and just went out into homeroom like she hadn’t kissed me. Then she ignored me for the rest of her life. She was a bitch even at six. It was very traumatic.”

“I’ll blow you in the morning.”

He was quiet for a second. Considering maybe. “Ok. But if we meet him, I might kick his ass. I’m just sayin’. No promises.”

“Ok, Tyler.”

“If you’re gonna get into that people watching us thing…and we do meet him…we could so do it in front of him.”

“You’re drowning, Tyler. The ship’s going down.”

“Ok. I’ll shut up.”

And for once, he did! Or he passed out. One of the two. I was surprised he was actually that talkative because he really had done a lot today—and most of it outside in raging heat. He was such a fucking goofball. Actually he was a lot of things. A lot of really awesome things. As I drifted off, I realized how lucky I was to find him. That wasn’t really a new thing for me to realize that, but it was good to be reminded. I yawned through, “Night, Tyler,” and pressed a kissed to his cheek.

One (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine |  Thirty  |