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But that could wait another few minutes.
Michael’s arm tightened around my shoulders, urging me to relax into his big, strong body.
“I got you, Tess,” he whispered into my hair. “Always. You can relax.”
And so I gave myself up to the bliss and shut out the future for another moment or two. Or forever. That sounded nice.
And it was. It was perfection.
Until a few hours later, when we were awakened by a very loud voice.
“What,” roared my grandfather, who never yelled, “the hell are you doing with my granddaughter?”
TWENTY-ONE
THE DESALINIZATION PROJECT; OR, WORST CASE SCENARIO
Michael
At the sound of Mattias Zola’s booming voice, I was out of Lea’s bed faster than a bullet from a shotgun.
Wrong move.
I mean, fuckin’ historically wrong move.
Because that had me standing naked in Lea Zola’s bedroom. Naked in front of her grandpa. Naked in front of her grandma. Naked in front of all four of her sisters.
“Mamma mia,” muttered Mrs. Zola as she tried in vain to put her hands over the eyes of the little ones, who immediately squirmed out of arm’s reach.
“Oh my God! Lea’s in here with a guy!” shouted the one whose name was Frankie.
Joni, Marie, Frankie, and Kate.
Good thing I remembered their names since they were all fucking staring at me.
“You can see his thingy!” cried the youngest, whose name I remembered was Joni.
“Ew!” yelled Marie, as she pointed at my dick. “It’s right there!”
I grabbed something—anything—to cover up. It happened to be a blue folder labeled “Desalinization Project.”
“Yo, could you not play ‘hide the sausage’ with my lab report?” Kate drawled. “I’d prefer not having to lie to my biology teacher about the dried jizz.”
“Katie!” scolded her grandmother. “Don’t say ‘jizz’ in front of your sisters!”
“What’s ‘jizz’?” asked Joni. “Is it like when a boy says he’s gonna ‘take a whizz’?” She pointed a little finger at me. “Did you pee in my sisters’ room?”
“Ew!” Marie yelled again. “He peed in Lea’s bed! Why did you do that?”
“GET OUT!” Lea shrieked from the bed, her bedsheet wrapped around her body.
God, she was beautiful in the morning.
Because it was, in fact, morning. Eight a.m., according to the clock on her bedside table. Which meant that after I’d declared my undying love for this girl and taken her virginity instead of breaking up with her the way I’d intended, we hadn’t just stolen a few extra minutes together but had slept like babies for the rest of the damn night. And woken up, like idiots, to this shit show.
Jesus. I was a fuckin’ idiot.
Best night of sleep I ever had, though.
