Part 18 (1/2)

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calm down from our enthusiastic standing ovation, and when we did Leo immediately took my hand in his.

I never was much for holding hands. Most people were so clammy, or our fi ngers fi t together wrong. There was nothing worse than intertwined fi ngers as a gesture of romance only to realize that the boy's hands were stumpy and there was barely enough room to lace our fi ngers together. Leo didn't weave our fi ngers, but held my hand on his lap with a grip that tightened every time he laughed at something brilliant Bruce said. Leo's hand was much larger than mine, with prominent veins. At times, no matter how funny or engaging Bruce was, I was distracted by the force with which Leo would jerk my hand with a laugh. Not a bad distraction, but I wanted to focus on Bruce, maybe learn something for my own movies.

I fi shed my hand away from Leo's and pretended to dig some- thing out of my back pocket. He didn't seem to notice. I spent the rest of the show wondering why Leo didn't try to hold my hand again.

Bruce was selling and signing copies of his books, posters, s.h.i.+rts, and any other weird artifact people brought to him. When it was time for me and Leo to greet him, I told Bruce, ”You are a legend.”

He thanked me and off ered to sign an Army of Darkness poster I brought along. ”Gimme some sugar, Baby,” he wrote, a cla.s.sic line.

One of my favorites. I asked Leo to take a picture of me and Bruce with my phone, and he did. Then the next person in line, a rather large woman with a Bubba Ho- Tep t-s.h.i.+rt on, asked us, ”Do you want a picture with both of you?”

”Sure,” Leo answered before I could decide for myself. When the moment was over, Leo and I reviewed the picture. We stood on either side of Bruce, smiling like dorks, while Bruce produced bunny --1 ears behind our heads. Cla.s.sic.

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If it were possible for me to feel jubilant, that's how I felt as Leo and I walked back to my car. For two seconds I forgot about my dad and Becca and just reveled in the primo eve ning.

Leo was bubbly, too, and quoted moments from Bruce's Q&A verbatim. ”Remember when ... ?” ”And then he said ...” It was funny how cute and sweet such a big, supposedly scary guy could look. I started the car, and the clock read 10:45. ”What time do you have to be home?” I asked.

”One,” he answered.

”Midnight for me. But you can have my gla.s.s slipper.” He smiled, illuminated by the parking lot lights. ”What do you want to do?” I asked. I knew the question was too open, too obvious. At that time of night, we could go back to someone's house and worry about waiting parents, go to Denny's for coff ee, which I had previously off ered to cover, or fi nd somewhere to park the car.

”How about the Halloween store?” Leo suggested. I hadn't thought of that.

”Is there one up yet?” The phenomenon of pop- up Halloween stores was always exciting and depressing at the same time. Anything huge and Halloweeny meant awesomeness in my book, but they were always thrown into some giant, dead store s.p.a.ce that would become empty again once the holiday ended. Or at least until the pop- up Christ- mas store took its place.

”Sure,” I agreed. ”Where is it?”

”Where the Borders used to be,” he directed.

I drove to the strip mall parking lot and parked in the vast empti- ness. We unclicked our seat belts and walked up to the blackened -1- windows. Leo cupped his hands around his eyes and peered in. ”I 0- guess we're a little late,” Leo noticed as we surveyed the dark store.

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”They stay open later when Halloween gets closer,” I mentioned.

”Next time,” he suggested.

I mulled over the idea of a next time as we returned to the car.

”So,” I asked as Leo hopped in and shut the door. ”What now?” I started the car and turned on WVVX, a local station that turned from Spanish to metal at 8:00 p.m.

As I attempted to tug on my seat belt, Leo slid toward me and ran his hand up my arm. At that moment, the streetlight above the car fl ick- ered off . ”I planned that,” he said. He leaned over and kissed me, his position awkward and sideways, the steering wheel preventing us from getting comfortably close. I gently pushed his chest away from me and crawled my way over the armrest and into the backseat. Leo fol- lowed, less gracefully, and stumbled until we were next to each other.

Our hands were everywhere. He pulled my s.h.i.+rt over my head, and I did the same to his. Or was it the other way around? He leaned back onto the leather bench seat, and I rested on top of him. Without taking my bra off , Leo slid his hand inside it and drove me to an embarra.s.sing squeak.

”What was that?” He laughed quietly, as if talking loudly would alert someone outside to our presence.

I bit his lip slightly harder than playfully, which he took to mean I wanted more. I did.

Somehow my hand found its way down to the b.u.t.tons of Leo's jeans, and I undid them one by one before fi tting my hand inside and feeling him against me. He responded with a moan, and dug around until my jeans were unb.u.t.toned, too. We slithered out of our pants and rubbed our barely dressed bodies together, kissing, grinding, grip- ping. He hooked his fi nger onto the top of my undies and started to --1 pull them off .

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”Wait,” I breathed. ”We're not going to have s.e.x,” I told him.

”Why is it you keep saying that?” He didn't sound annoyed, just curious.