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"Put a pillow behind the headboard," Mom clicks her tongue. "We don't want to hear—"
"Got it," I say as I hold out a hand, mortified.
"Go on," Dad motions. "We want to watch TV."
Ah, you have to love parents who are more invested in their dating shows than their daughter's sex life.
When I finally make it up the stairs, Wilder is sitting on my bed. I shut the door behind me and slip out of my shoes before walking over to him.
"Thank you," I give him a small smile.
He raises his eyebrows at me. "For?"
I tug my shirt over my head as his hazel eyes drink in my bare skin. "For coming home with me."
His hands find my waist as I reach for the zipper on my shorts. "Are you sure you want to do this? Especially after everything that happened at the diner."
I chew on the inside of my cheek. A lot happened tonight but none of it changes how I feel about Wilder.
"I don't know how I feel about what Fanny did," I honestly tell him, "but I know how I feel about you."
"How do you feel, Blondie?"
I place my hands on his shoulders. "I want you, Wilder."
He gives me a sheepish smile. "You can't steal my lines."
"I can," I reach for the button on my shorts, "and I did."
"You're going to pay for that," he promises as he tugs his shirt over his head.
"Am I?" I playfully bat my eyes at him as he's shoving his pants down his legs.
"You are," he licks his lips.
"We need to, uh..." I trail off reaching behind him to grab a pillow and wedge it behind the headboard. "I don't want anyone to hear."
Wilder grasps my hand in his, pulling me close. "I meant it, Blondie. You're what I need. What I've needed for a long time."
I want to say it. I want to scream it. But I don't. Not yet.
So, I kiss him instead and let the unspoken words linger between us.
I love you, Wilder. I think I've always loved you.
Chapter 25
The Dreaded Concert
I fluff my hair and dab on some red lipstick before grabbing the black sequined purse off my bed. One last glance in the mirror before I head down the stairs prepared to rock Wilder's world. I'm going all out tonight. Black-heeled boots, a short leather skirt, and a gold crop top. I went heavy on the eye makeup and high on the hair. Volume. Lots of voluptuous curls. Wilder's not going to know what hit him.
"Have fun tonight!" Mom hollers from the kitchen the moment she hears me. "Call me if you're going to be late."
"Love you!" I yell back before skipping out the front door. I would tell her to wait up, but I don't plan on coming home tonight. I plan on staying at Wilder's. I'll let Mom know after the concert, though. I don't want another we-won't-raise-your-child-if-you-get-pregnant-at-18 speech before I walk out the door.
I make the short trek three houses down to Wilder's as the sun is suspended on the horizon, a ball of fiery reds and golds.
Wilder will be driving tonight, and I'm kind of relieved. He's always the one in the passenger seat, watching my every move while I'm focused on the road. Tonight, I plan on studying him the same way he's been studying me all summer long.
