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It was also across the street from the Plain Jane combination convenience store and gas station. They had a Slurpee machine. My plan was to walk there first and pop-in on Jake at the hardware store on my way home.
The tour would be starting soon and I wanted to spend as much time as I could with him. I didn't know how if he'd want to stay a few weeks in California or come right back. Either way, I was looking at a stretch of time without Jake and that had me on edge.
The tall cup that held my Cherry Coke flavored Slurpee was sweating as I crossed the blacktop. Wisps of blurred heat looked like puddles of stagnant water at the edges of the lot. I kept a steady pace across the blacktop, clinging to my oversized cup, until the whoosh of controlled air swept over me at the stores' entrance. It was cooler inside, but not by much.
There was a salt and pepper haired woman in a green work vest manning the register. Her name tag said BECKY. She greeted me, offered to help me find whatever I needed, and I waved her off. I stayed in the main aisle near the front, sweeping down each row in search of Jake. I found him near the back of the store, in the open area, surrounded by hanging plants and patio furniture. His back was to me. I wanted to sneak up and throw my arms around his waist, but when I got closer, I saw he wasn't alone. He was standing beside an older guy, maybe mid-forties with shaggy blond hair, who was dressed in worn-looking jeans and faded brown work boots. Jake was holding a large book, one of the catalogues the store carried. He seemed to be in deep conversation as he rested one of his big feet on a low pile of dry cement bags, pointing at a page in the catalogue. The man leaned back against a large flatbed cart that was stacked with black tubing, and flagstones.
"Hey, you," a voice called from behind me.
I turned towards the sound.
Troy Bleecher was standing a few feet up the aisle. I waved robotically and turned back to wait for Jake. He hadn't seen me yet and I didn't want to distract him, so I stayed planted where I was, several yards up the long aisle.
Soon, Troy was standing beside me. "That's my dad." He gestured, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.
"That's my boyfriend," I muttered, unintentionally mocking Troy's tone.
"I know," he said, and turned to look at me. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."
My brow furrowed. I never talked to Troy Bleecher. Not since our one date last year, when I found out that he told half our school that he slept with me.
"For Rosa; she's kind of a bitch. And for me, too, for the way I acted. What I said was messed up."
"Oh," I murmured, remembering the way he scared the crap out of me in the quad the week before. Maybe he delivered apologies in bulk? "Okay."
I turned back to Jake and found he was watching me. What little cool air there was inside the open garden area became heated with the stare Jake was giving.
Troy's dad called him and he walked off after him, the two heading for the register.
My grin was uncontainable as Jake sauntered up the aisle towards me. I held out my sweaty cup of Slurpee. Jake leaned in, locking eyes with me in that salacious way that he had and took a long sip. I could tell by the lack of frosty bubbles in the clear straw that my drink was nearly melted. Once his lips released the straw, they took mine. His mouth was cold as his warm hands affectionately grabbed my face, holding me in place. His tongue burst between my lips, filling my mouth with the cool cherry soda flavor and igniting my blood.
When I stepped into his grasp, wanting to deepen the kiss, he pulled away. "Tastes good," he grinned, taking the drink from my hand. I watched him take another long pull. "Good day?"
I nodded my head. "No more headache. Want me to go get you one?"
Jake shook his head with the straw piercing one side of his mouth. "I already got one."
I giggled at the silly, mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
He looked around the store, in front and behind us, then swooped down on me again, closing his lips around mine and pouring cool melted Slurpee into my mouth. I threw my arms around his waist, pulling him closer.
"Missed this." He mumbled against my lips. And then his fingers, wet with condensation from the cup, were sweeping down my cheek. He pulled away. "Okay. No more or I'll get in trouble." I wanted to fake a pout but just grinned.
"You know Troy?"
"No," I shrugged. "Well, not really."
"What were you talking about?"
I shook my head, "Nothing. I think he was trying to be nice."
"Nice? Troy-Shithead-Bleecher? What'd he say?" Jake's eyebrows shot up with interest.
I didn't want to get into it. I couldn't remember if I ever told him about my one date and there was no way I was mentioning the thing with Rosa. Jake would get upset and there was nothing he could do to keep it from happening again. Besides, I was pretty sure Avery had taken care of it.
"He told me you were talking to his dad."
Jakes bright hazel eyes darkened. "I hate that guy."
