fix her. But, it was too late. I didn’t know how to let go. She broke the silence first.
“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” she said.
“There’s always the option of asking me.” I put the car in gear and pulled forward. She watched my hand on the stick shift — she always did that.
Car wash — over. Pounding need to be inside of her — not over.
“I feel like you’re always trying to sneak into my mind. You’re like Peter Pan — always climbing in windows and causing trouble.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Did you really just call me Peter Pan?”
“I’ve called you worse.” I eased the car into the traffic.
“A llama,” she said. “I loved that.”
I laughed at her obvious sarcasm, and the lust spell was broken. I was back to just needing to be with her.
“Peter Pan wants to sneak into your mind and know what you’re thinking,” she tried again. She was looking at me so earnestly, I gave.
We pulled up at a red light. I reached over and grabbed her hand. Okay, if she wanted my thoughts, I was going to give them to her. Maybe it would do her good to be inside the mind of a normal, adult male. Maybe she’d play with said ‘normal adult male’ with a little more caution. I raised her fingers to my lips and kissed them. I conjured up an image of her on my lap and my voice dropped low so she knew I meant business.
“If you climb into my lap while wearing a skirt and kiss me like that again, I’m going to pull off your panties and fuck you.”
Her face blanched. Good. I needed her to be scared enough to not do that again. I wasn’t Superman. I was a man — a man that very much wanted to make love to his girlfriend.
She didn’t let go of my hand, if anything her hold on it tightened. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. She was biting her bottom lip, staring straight out of the windshield with glassy eyes.
I choked back a laugh. By God, I think I actually turned her on. My little Duchess — always the surprise.
From that day on, Peter Pan was our code word for — what are you thinking?
“Peter Pan.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You invented this game.”
We were lying on her floor, supposedly having a study session. Her lips were still a little swollen from our kissing session.
“I’m covered in Cheeto dust and trying to study. You’re annoying me because for the last forty minutes you’ve been staring at me, and it’s breaking my concentration.” She put another Cheeto in her mouth and let it melt. I grabbed her hand and stuck one of her fingers between my lips, sucking the “Cheeto dust” off. It was a new Oliviaism.
Her eyes glazed for a second, and I dropped her hand.
“Since when do you read the paper?” It was slightly buried underneath her body. She raised her ribcage to let me pull it out and I rolled onto my back.
“I saw it when I was checking out at the grocery store.” She looked half guilty. I unfolded it and looked at the front page.
“Laura,” I said. I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but seeing her picture caught me by surprise. I got a sick feeling in my stomach whenever I thought about it.
“New leads in the Laura Hilberson case,” I read. The paper said that one of her credit cards had been used at a gas station in Mississippi. Since the gas station had no video surveillance, they weren’t able to get a shot of who was using the card. The teenager behind the counter was high at the time and didn’t remember anything at all.
“You dated her,” Olivia said. I nodded. She pushed her textbook aside and rested her head on her fist. “So, what was she like? Do you think she would just disappear? Do you think someone took her?”
I scratched my belly. “It was like a week. I didn’t know her very well.” That isn’t true. Why am I lying?
Olivia knew I was lying.
“Tell me,” she says.
“There’s nothing to tell, Duchess.”
“Caleb, you’re one of the most perceptive humans I’ve ever met. Are you really
“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” she said.
“There’s always the option of asking me.” I put the car in gear and pulled forward. She watched my hand on the stick shift — she always did that.
Car wash — over. Pounding need to be inside of her — not over.
“I feel like you’re always trying to sneak into my mind. You’re like Peter Pan — always climbing in windows and causing trouble.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Did you really just call me Peter Pan?”
“I’ve called you worse.” I eased the car into the traffic.
“A llama,” she said. “I loved that.”
I laughed at her obvious sarcasm, and the lust spell was broken. I was back to just needing to be with her.
“Peter Pan wants to sneak into your mind and know what you’re thinking,” she tried again. She was looking at me so earnestly, I gave.
We pulled up at a red light. I reached over and grabbed her hand. Okay, if she wanted my thoughts, I was going to give them to her. Maybe it would do her good to be inside the mind of a normal, adult male. Maybe she’d play with said ‘normal adult male’ with a little more caution. I raised her fingers to my lips and kissed them. I conjured up an image of her on my lap and my voice dropped low so she knew I meant business.
“If you climb into my lap while wearing a skirt and kiss me like that again, I’m going to pull off your panties and fuck you.”
Her face blanched. Good. I needed her to be scared enough to not do that again. I wasn’t Superman. I was a man — a man that very much wanted to make love to his girlfriend.
She didn’t let go of my hand, if anything her hold on it tightened. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. She was biting her bottom lip, staring straight out of the windshield with glassy eyes.
I choked back a laugh. By God, I think I actually turned her on. My little Duchess — always the surprise.
From that day on, Peter Pan was our code word for — what are you thinking?
“Peter Pan.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You invented this game.”
We were lying on her floor, supposedly having a study session. Her lips were still a little swollen from our kissing session.
“I’m covered in Cheeto dust and trying to study. You’re annoying me because for the last forty minutes you’ve been staring at me, and it’s breaking my concentration.” She put another Cheeto in her mouth and let it melt. I grabbed her hand and stuck one of her fingers between my lips, sucking the “Cheeto dust” off. It was a new Oliviaism.
Her eyes glazed for a second, and I dropped her hand.
“Since when do you read the paper?” It was slightly buried underneath her body. She raised her ribcage to let me pull it out and I rolled onto my back.
“I saw it when I was checking out at the grocery store.” She looked half guilty. I unfolded it and looked at the front page.
“Laura,” I said. I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but seeing her picture caught me by surprise. I got a sick feeling in my stomach whenever I thought about it.
“New leads in the Laura Hilberson case,” I read. The paper said that one of her credit cards had been used at a gas station in Mississippi. Since the gas station had no video surveillance, they weren’t able to get a shot of who was using the card. The teenager behind the counter was high at the time and didn’t remember anything at all.
“You dated her,” Olivia said. I nodded. She pushed her textbook aside and rested her head on her fist. “So, what was she like? Do you think she would just disappear? Do you think someone took her?”
I scratched my belly. “It was like a week. I didn’t know her very well.” That isn’t true. Why am I lying?
Olivia knew I was lying.
“Tell me,” she says.
“There’s nothing to tell, Duchess.”
“Caleb, you’re one of the most perceptive humans I’ve ever met. Are you really
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