We get to the water’s edge, and I see that he’s not exaggerating. He used a darker wood than what was there before and increased the width by a few feet, so it’s more squared off than the original.
“Danny, it’s…” There are no words. “I love it. I so love it. I can’t wait to hang out here.”
“And maybe you can’t wait to jump off it?” he suggests.
“Now?”
“Now.” He tightens his hold and nods. “One…two…three…”
And as we run the length of the dock, I know that I’m going to fall in love with this boy.
Because when we fly off the end, hand in hand, and plunge into the water, we both yell, “Coffee!”
I haven’t had aone, two, three, coffeemoment in years. And this is the best one ever.
When we surface, he guides me to the dock amid my joyous laughter, and we tread water, each with one hand on the new platform.
“Happy?” he asks.
“Of course I am.”
He brushes my wet hair back and looks at me for a long time.
It takes everything I have not to wrap my legs around his waist and sink my tongue into his mouth.
And I’m maybe about to work up the courage, but he gently pulls away and says, “Will you run me home? I need to clean up, change, and get my truck.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I mean, so I can drive it back here. If you’re still up for dinner? It’s okay if you’re not.” His voice wavers a touch.
“I’m more than okay.” My hand moves slowly up his arm and over the back of his neck. I can’t help myself. He’s too damn wonderful.
Danny grips my hand, stopping me hard. His breathing has changed slightly, and he turns to look at me intensely for a moment before helping me up onto the dock. “Drive me home?” he asks in a near whisper.
So, after we’ve dried off, I do. On the ride, we’re too quiet, and I wonder if he’s going to come back. Of course, he did leave his dog at my place, so that says something.
When I pull up at his house, he looks through my father’s old CDs and hands me a disc of ’80s music. “I’ll see you within an hour, okay? Play track number six.” He winks and pauses before he turns to go inside. “An hour.”
As I leave, Survivor’s “I Can’t Hold Back” blares through the sound system, and I smile, as it’s all about trembling touches and love affairs that can’t wait. I start to head home, driving slowly and enjoying the moment, but then I decide to make a quick pit stop in town, so I pick up the pace, and by the time I’m back at the house, I am pretty much plowing into the driveway and running to the kitchen.
After I’ve sautéed mushrooms and onions, I add in dill, paprika, soy sauce, and chicken broth. I have no idea how this Hungarian mushroom soup recipe makes sense, but the reviews are great. Later, there’s a milk-flour mix with some paprika that has to be added at the last minute or two, which also seems crazy, but after I have a simmering pot to start, I run upstairs to get ready.
When I get in the shower, the hot water pours over my body and soothes my muscles. My arms are still aching like all hell, but it’s a wonderful feeling. I feel more alive than I have in years. The clock tells me that I have mere minutes to get dressed. Tonight, I wish I had a bit more time, but I rifle through my dresser and grab a scoop-neck shirt and ripped jean shorts. Danny is, after all, clearly a fan of the ’80s, and nothing screams ’80s like this outfit. Not to mention that I’m damn comfortable.
I grab a blow dryer and allow myself a few minutes to run my fingers through my hair to take out knots and get it at least partially dry. It’s funny how I don’t even consider putting on makeup, but I feel pretty confident that I could toss it all at this point, as I don’t remember the last time that I wore any.
Downstairs, I add in the milk-flour-paprika mix to the soup, cook it for a bit more, and then give it a taste. Somehow, the mishmash of ingredients has indeed created a rich soup worthy of all the online praise, so I take it off the heat, use my stick blender to puree a few cups, and add that smooth mix back into the pot. After another taste, I know I have the perfect texture.
With a short time left before Danny gets here, I go onto my iPad and place an order for the furniture I’ve had in my cart. Paul was right about the old couch and the fact that everything in the living room needs to be swapped out for something updated. Well, and less dusty and smelly. Not that I noticed the night that Danny and I slept on the couch, but still…
While I’m staring at a recipe that I’ve bookmarked for another day, Danny barrels through the front door.
“Hey, sorry that took an extra few. I stopped and picked up some food for Shally. He seems to be spending a lot of time here for some reason.” He drops a large bag and a backpack onto the floor. “Zero idea why that could be.”
I feign confusion. “I have no idea either, but I beat you to it. Picked up a bag tonight. Your Shallots will have to hang around here even more now.”
“I suppose he will.”
