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Chapter Six
SIXTEN
The yellow streetlights lining the edge of the elementary school playground don’t give off much of a glow. At this point it seems like half of them have burned out, and if I didn’t know where I’m going, I’d have easily bumped into something by now. Luckily, I know exactly where the swing set is, and just which swing Aimee will be on.
After our first date, when we realized we wanted to keep seeing each other, we knew we were going to need a spot to meet up where no one would think to look. That isn’t easy in a small town. But then Aimee remembered the playground and how poorly lit it was, meaning no one was ever there after dark. Hell, unless school was in session, the equipment was rarely used in the daylight. The swings quickly became our spot—one where we could simply chill out and talk. Some of my favorite memories with Aimee were made right here on a swing, casually moving in the breeze, sharing all our secrets.
It’s how I know where she’ll be now. She said she needs to think, and that means it came down to one of two places—either her childhood treehouse at Knitty Gritty Fleece or here. Considering she’s trying to get away from her family, the treehouse was eliminated quickly. My only hope is that I’ve given her enough time to clear her head, and that we’re still on the same page.
“There’s my girl,” I say, slowly approaching her.
Aimee doesn’t bother to look, instead continuing to stare off into space. I can’t blame her—it was quite the afternoon. Finally facing our parents and telling them how much I love her was a freeing feeling. Of course, I would have much rather the moment started when we were clothed, and not postcoital. And without my father comparing her to a piece of gardening equipment.
Getting to her after she stormed out had taken me a lot longer than planned. I wanted to run after her right away, but I’d been stopped by both sets of parents—moms thinking it would be best to give her space, dads demanding more answers. I gave them answers, all right, while also getting some of my own. One of which I can’t wait to share with the woman I love.
I just hope she’s still in this with me.
“Ames,” I continue, standing in front of her, holding on to the chains on either side of the swing. It stops moving, and she finally looks at me.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi. Sorry it took me so long to get here. I had to deal with a few things.”
“Sorry I left you with them. I…I just…I don’t even know, Six.”
“Don’t even worry about it. They were the easy part.”
“The easy part? Then what was the hard part?” she asks, eyes going wide with worry.
“Wrestling the remnants of our passion from Chris.” I smirk, hoping she can hear the light in my voice.
“The what?”
“Chris was tied up just outside the window I tossed the condom out of. When I finally made it out of the hayloft, I found him trying to—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence!” she exclaims, holding her hand up. “I don’t want to know.”
I throw my head back laughing, more than happy not to finish the tale. It is not one that ever really needs to be told again. Letting the silence surround us for a moment, I stare back at her, drinking in just how beautiful she is. It’s easy to get lost in her blue eyes or blonde hair, but knowing what is behind all that is what makes my insides melt.
“Prior to that though, I did have quite the…enlightening…conversation with our parents.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Turns out, our mothers are friends.”
“Come again?”
“I kid you not.”
“Our mothers…are…friends…” she repeats, slowly drawing out the sentence.
“That monthly BME lunch your mom attends? Well, my mom has the same meeting every month. Turns out BME stands for Breanna, Misty, and Elaine.”
“Elaine, as in Elaine Smythe. The woman this whole thing apparently started over?” I nod. “I’m so, so confused, Six. They have hated each other since before we were born. I’ve told myself for forever that it must be this huge deal, that one tried to screw over the other or something. And it turns out, it was over a girl?!”
“And a poker game.”
“What? How does that even make sense?”
