Part 43 (1/2)

Dean won't give me any hints, so I have no idea how to pack for wherever it is we're going. That means I have to plan for every contingency, which means I'm going to be taking a lot of stuff. I take a long shower, taking extra special care to lather, shave, and lotion every part of my body. When I'm finally done, I wrap a towel around myself and consider my underwear collection. I still have all the lingerie I bought months ago that I've never worn-the price tags are still on them. I pick out a really hot light blue lacy set, but after I put it on...I don't know...I feel weird. I bought it with Johnny in mind...it seems wrong to wear it for Dean. Besides, I know I won't feel comfortable in them, and I don't want to spend the night fidgeting. I have a cute pale pink strapless bra and panties that I'm much more comfortable wearing, and Dean hasn't seen them before.

I wish I could call Heather for advice. We've been tentatively texting each other, but I haven't told her about Dean yet. Call me petty, but I'm mad at her for freezing me out when I was only trying to help. So I'm not going to tell her about the most important thing going on in my life right now-not until she stops being so stubborn, and starts being my friend again. So there.

I apply more makeup than usual, going with eyeliner and mascara, and killer red lip gloss. I brush my hair into a silky ma.s.s, and then I use all my a.s.sorted hair products to achieve beachy waves. And since I've gone to all this trouble, I decide to wear my new scarlet red dress. It's pretty simple, but short and clingy, with a halter top and a plunging back. I think I look pretty good until I turn around and realize that the dress dips down far enough in the back to fully expose my bra. Okay, I guess I don't need a bra, then.

Confident that I look the best I possibly can, I grab a jacket and my things and head out. I drive out to Tamara Fife's house. It's pure serendipity that she happens to be in need of transportation the same day I need to stash my car someplace safe for the night.

”Whoa.”

Tamara answers the door, staring at me open-mouthed as she takes in how I'm dressed.

”You think it's too much?” I glance down at myself, just now realizing how short and tight the dress really is. d.a.m.n it, I need to change before I make a fool of myself!

”No way,” Tamara is saying, ushering me into her house. ”You're gorgeous. Johnny's eyes are gonna bug out of his head when he sees you!”

”Oh, uh, Johnny and I broke up,” I say awkwardly. I drop my bag on her flowered couch, avoiding her eyes.

”Yeah, I heard that, but I thought you guys got back together?” She says it like a question at the end.

I shake my head, embarra.s.sed. ”Nope. Oh-before I forget, here are the keys.”

”Thanks, Juliet!” Tamara takes them from me, beaming. ”So who's your new guy?”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Wiggling her eyebrows at me, she skips over the door to answer it. I can almost feel her shock when she opens the door to find Dean standing there.

I suck in a breath. He is absolutely, incredibly stunning in dark slacks that emphasize the trim cut of his hips, and his long legs, and a long-sleeved gray s.h.i.+rt unb.u.t.toned at the top. I can see the black cord of his necklace peeking out, and it is so s.e.xy.

For real. d.a.m.n.

I feel sorry for poor Tamara. She's not moving, like, at all. I wonder if she's even blinking. Dean's looking down at her with some concern. Then he looks past her. His eyes finds me, and everything else ceases to exist.

Oh, G.o.d, the way he's looking at me right now...

He very slowly and very thoroughly takes me in, starting with my face and hair. His gaze drops down to my mouth, lingers, then continues to travel down my body...then slowly back up again. By the time his eyes meet mine, they're slightly unfocused and his breathing is uneven. I'm amazed and thrilled that I can affect him this way. Dean is looking at me like I'm beautiful, and my doubts and fears-all the worst things that I think about myself...seem to melt away. He does that to me, I realize. He makes me feel good about myself.

I somehow manage to walk toward him, despite legs that are the consistency of jelly. I stop next to a googly-eyed Tamara. ”Hi,” I say softly.

A hint of a smile touches Dean's mouth. ”Hi.” He shakes his head slightly. ”You look incredible.”

”Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.” I suddenly remember my manners. ”Tamara, this is Dean, my-uh-”

”Boyfriend,” Dean fills in for me, his voice firm. Oh, my G.o.d! He nods at Tamara. ”Nice to meet you.”

”Hi, I'm Tamara!” Tamara grins enthusiastically. ”I know who you are, and it's great to meet you. Congratulations on LSU, by the way.”

”Thanks,” he acknowledges, taking a step in when she stands aside and gestures him forward. She stares at me with wide eyes behind his back, mouthing, ”Ohmagawd!”

I grin at her. Dean sees my bag on the couch and goes to get it for me. Tamara keeps silently asking me questions, but I don't understand what she's saying. I just shrug and continue to smile. The best thing about her is that she knows how to keep her mouth shut, and I'm reasonably certain she won't be posting anything online. At least, I hope.

”Ready to go?” Dean asks me, already backing toward the door.

h.e.l.l, yes, I am! We say our goodbyes to Tamara, and I try to play it cool as I slide into the pa.s.senger seat of the Pontiac. But I totally can't keep the smile off my face-especially when Dean leans over, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me toward him. He takes my lips in a kiss that has me bucking in my seat and forgetting where I am.

I don't know what comes over me. Oh, G.o.d, yes, I do. I kiss Dean back with everything I have, and it's still not enough. Pretty soon, I am climbing over to his side, and straddling him, and- Dean pulls back a little to look at me. ”Did you just hit your back on the steering wheel?”

”Yes,” I say faintly, biting back howls of pain. ”Oh, my G.o.d. It hurts so bad.”

I meet his eyes, and have to laugh, despite the pain. He grins back, carefully trying to s.h.i.+ft us so we have more room to maneuver. There's no room.

”Ow.” I close my eyes, half giggling, half groaning. ”No, don't move. Can you just drive like this?”

”Someday soon we'll test that theory.” Dean's chuckle is smoky and a little strained as I cautiously try to wiggle off his lap.

”Ow, ow, ow.”

I manage to slide off of him, and back onto my seat. I'm still laughing, until I notice Tamara's front door is open and Tamara, and an older woman who's probably her mother are standing in the doorway, staring at us. The older woman looks slightly traumatized. Tamara looks so engrossed, I wanna give her popcorn and candy and charge admission.

”Drive,” I say in a low voice to Dean. ”Just drive.”

Despite the rough start, I'm super excited. We could be going to the dentist, and I'd still be thrilled. I have to keep pinching my arm to remind myself to savor every single moment.

”Hey, there's your old neighborhood,” I say, looking out the window. ”You know, we should go back to the park one day. Lot of good memories there, despite the bullying.”

I give Dean a teasing look, and he sighs almost imperceptibly. ”I didn't bully you.”

”You called me Fun Size,” I remind him indignantly.

”You called me Gigantor first.”

”I...did I really?” I gasp suddenly. I totally could have-that sounds like me. ”Well, if I did, it was because you used to look at me like I was an insect.”

I wait for Dean to deny it, but he doesn't. He just looks over at me while simultaneously increasing speed.

”You don't know much about ten year old boys,” he says finally, sounding amused.

”No, I don't.” I shudder. ”So where are we going again?”

Dean smirks. ”Nice try.”

In retaliation, I put on my eighties monster ballads, compiled specifically for this trip. As special torture, I sing along. If Heather were here, she would harmonize with me. Dean pretends to be afraid of my awesome dance moves. Okay, maybe he's not pretending.

Forty-five minutes later, we're at Shady Harbor. Why? Because Dean has a freaking yacht moored there! It's a sleek sixty something footer, and it doesn't matter that it actually belongs to his grandfather-because apparently the grandfather never uses it. It might as well be Dean's. Um...why can't money buy you happiness?

”Mack and the others use her more than I do,” Dean says of the Eye of the Storm. He shrugs. ”I like sailboats.”

I'm helped aboard by a thin, nice-looking guy about my age. He's the most monochrome-looking guy I've ever seen: brown eyes, fluffy brown hair, and brown skin. His s.h.i.+rt is brown, and he's wearing ancient khaki shorts. He's introduced to me as Finley, and I a.s.sume he's the captain's son-until the captain wraps an arm around Finley's slim waist, and plants a kiss on his cheek. Unless fathers are that openly affectionate with their sons? I don't know.