Read Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last Online

Authors: Gretchen de la O

Tags: #adult, #sex, #hot, #high school, #young, #first love, #steamy, #student teacher

Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last (4 page)

BOOK: Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last
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She slammed the door behind her. Both
Joanie and I took a huge sigh of relief. The energy in the room
immediately returned back to normal.


God, why can’t she just
accept my apology and move on already?” I plopped down on my bed;
my dress pulled and cut tight across my stomach.
Great, not only is Max not going to be there, now
I am going to be uncomfortable on top of it. I guess I’ll be
standing all night.


Come on, Wilson, do
you
really
think
it’s about the F-bomb? Really? She won’t move on because finally
someone called her out on her shit and you didn’t bend to her
manipulating crap. Everyone knows she’s a bitch; she’s
always
been out for
herself and she will
never
change. You put Cindy
exactly
where she belonged and she
didn’t like it. That’s just her, so let it go. Besides, we only
have six more months with the vengeful bitch, and then we are free
of her F-ing shit—forever.” Joanie kicked the pile of Cindy’s
dresses back into the closet and shut the door.


Wow, J. That is so not
like you. After nine years you’re starting to sound like me. What
happened to the perpetual optimist?” I teased.


She’s tired of kissing
ass.” Joanie grabbed her dress off her bed. “Perpetual
optimist—that’s the best you could come up with?” She gave me a
smirk.


We’d better finish
getting ready, it’s already five-thirty and the guys are going to
be here at six.”

A loud knuckle rapping in a quick
tempo echoed through our dorm room. Six o’clock, right on the dot.
As I yanked the door open I caught my breath; I didn’t expect
Brandon to look so good. He wore tailored black slacks and a honey
mustard-colored, snug fitting button-down shirt. He held out a
clear plastic box with a beautiful white rose resting on a bed of
dainty green fronds. The faint aroma of his cologne wafted across
with the breeze, causing me to tingle and think of Max.


This is for you, Wilson;
my sister said I had to bring you a boutonniere. I hope you like
white roses.”


Thanks, Brandon, it’s a
beautiful
corsage.
” He released the lid and I pulled it out of the box. It
didn’t have any elastic for my wrist, so it was obviously going to
have to be pinned on my dress. I glanced at Brandon, holding the
flower delicately in my hands. We both looked confused as to what
we were supposed to do with it.


Hi, Brandon. Wilson, let
me help you.” Joanie grabbed the corsage, held it up to my chest,
pulled the pins out, and poked them into my dress. He’d made the
perfect choice going with white flowers and it gave Joanie a good
excuse to keep busy until her date showed up.


Oh, that is so beautiful.
You look stunning,” Joanie said as she hugged me.


Thanks, J. And thank you,
Brandon. I’m sorry I didn’t get you a boutonniere.” I ran my hands
up and down the sides of my hips. To be honest, I didn’t think it
was that type of dance; fancy and all like that.


Please don’t worry about
it, Wilson. Thanks for coming to the dance with me.” He bent down
and pulled me into a hug. I hugged him back; he didn’t let
go.


Well, it’s about time to
head over to the dance,” Joanie reminded us. She pulled me away
from Brandon and toward the bathroom. “Excuse us, we’ll be right
back. We need to freshen up before we go.”


Take your time, ladies,”
Brandon mumbled.

Joanie pushed me into the
bathroom.


Did you text your picture
to Max?” she asked.


No, not yet,” I
said.


Do it now. He needs to
see how good you look!” She pulled lipstick from her purse and
started to apply a deep, purplish red. I watched her paint her
lips, smacking them together to even the tone before she mouthed to
me to send the picture.


Fine.” I grabbed my
phone. My hands were sweaty and my heart pounded
feverishly.

A PIC JUST 4U--WISH U WERE HERE! XOXO.
My fingers typed as fast as they could. I took a deep breath, hit
SEND, and then slid my phone back in my purse. I couldn’t wait for
him to text me back, even though I was on my way to the dance with
Brandon. I checked my teeth in the mirror, blended my eye shadow
with the tips of my fingers, and even ran my hands through my hair.
This was about as good as Brandon was gonna get.


Did you send it?” Joanie
asked under her breath as we came out of the bathroom. The minty
mouthwash she’d swished lingered between us. I pushed my hand to my
mouth and checked my breath; not minty fresh, but not bad
either.


Yeah, now we just have to
wait and see,” I said to her, my hand still holding the space in
front of my mouth. Joanie squealed and jumped up and
down.


You guys okay?” Brandon
asked. His eyes alternated between Joanie and me before he pointed
to Joanie’s date that finally showed up.


Pah, yeah. Joanie tends
to do that every once in a while.” I walked over to Brandon. “You
ready to go?” I asked him.


Yep.” He held out his
arm, I weaved mine through, and we walked out the door.

Right on the threshold, I felt my
phone vibrate relentlessly against my hip; excitement simmered in
my gut. It had to be Max responding to my text.

I felt it vibrate again and heard
Max’s voice calling my name. I felt warmth radiate down my arm and
snatch my hand.


Wilson, sweetheart; we’re
about to land.”

My eyes sprung open; gasping for air,
I came to and realized I wasn’t at school standing around at the
dance but in a 747 heading to Aspen with the guy I had fallen in
love with.

Chapter Three

 

The plane bounced and banged, tousling
its tires with the runway that welcomed us to Denver, Colorado. Max
grabbed my hand. My heart pounded high in my throat, and for a
moment, I forgot about the four hour drive ahead of us to Aspen.
Not that I minded; any time alone with Max was fine with me. I was
more than excited to get to his cabin. I couldn’t wait to start our
week-long vacation together. I know I should have believed our
vacation started the moment we’d gotten in the car to drive to the
airport, but I couldn’t rationalize the feelings that swelled in my
heart and tricked my mind into thinking it wasn’t official until we
were comfy and safe in his family’s cabin.

Max leaned into me, nudging his nose
against my temple; his breath tickled against my hair. “Wilson, I
got you something else for your birthday. I hope you like it.” His
hand, resting on my thigh, slid inward as his pinky pressed against
me. A deep throbbing rushed between my legs.

I exhaled slowly, our eyes met, and I
had to ask, “Really? Are you going to tell me what it is before we
get off the plane?”


Nope, you have to wait.
But trust me, you’ll love it,” he answered with a grin on his face
before he pressed his lips against mine for a quick
kiss.

He was so good looking; sometimes I
wondered what he saw in me. I often watched people look at us, and
I wanted to know what they thought about him—being with me. Not
that I was fugly or anything, it was just that he was so strikingly
handsome. He had the most gorgeous, warm complexion and shiny
jet-black hair, which more times than not, reached toward his
unimaginably earthy green eyes. When Max looked at me, he had a way
of making me feel like I could crawl into his soul and get lost in
his expression—forever.

With a winding hiss, the
plane taxied to the gate and jerked to a stop. The hum of the
engines dimmed, and automatically people began to stand and jockey
for positions. The voice of the pilot came over the speakers,
welcoming us to Denver and telling us that the weather outside was
a frosty 32 degrees, chilly enough to have a white Christmas.
Suddenly it hit me again:
today is
Christmas.
I was so absorbed by my
birthday and being with Max, it didn’t cross my mind that, for the
first time in my life, I wasn’t going to celebrate
Christmas.

I guess I didn’t have time
to react to the realization that Christmas was a holiday for people
who worshipped Jesus. And for Max’s family, being Jewish meant no
wreath on the door, no Christmas lights outlining their roof, no
Christmas tree flickering in the huge picturesque living room
window, and no cookies for Santa Claus or carrots for his reindeer.
And most of all no
Jingle Bells
or other Christmas music.

Max popped up and pulled open the
overhead compartment; lowering our bags onto his seat, he
maneuvered my backpack onto his shoulders and re-adjusted the grip
on his duffle bag before shuffling back to create a small gap I
could squeeze into.


Wilson, sneak in front of
me. We have to hurry to the baggage claim.” He hooked his finger
through the belt loop of my jeans and pulled me into the
aisle.


Why?” I
teased.

He took a breath before pressing his
chest against my back and whispered, “Nice try. You’ll
see.”

Damn, he’s as tight-lipped
as a preacher’s wife. What does Max have up his sleeve?
As he pushed against me, I pressed back against
him. It was the perfect way to arouse the waiting butterflies in my
gut. This was such a natural habit for us, sneaking our touches; it
was almost subconscious.

Eventually, the scrunched line of
people trying to collect their crap and get off the plane began to
move. Our spooning touch broke to an uninvited space between us. My
baby steps eventually evolved to half steps, and once we were out
of the plane, they became full length strides up into the airport.
Max snatched my hand and my strides became hurried gallops as he
pulled me along.


What’s the rush?” I
teased, yanking him back. “Aren’t we on vacation now?”

Max stumbled. Glancing back he winked,
dropped his duffle bag, and grabbed my other hand.


Of course we are on
vacation. And the best part of it is, I get to spoil you on your
birthday. So, if you don’t mind, can you pick up the pace? We
really don’t wanna miss our ride.” He kissed my nose, scooped up
the handles of the duffle bag, and sped us toward the baggage
claim.
Yeah, well even picking up my pace,
he is still dragging me through the airport. What could he possibly
have waiting for me at baggage claim?


Oh, good, here we go,”
Max said as he spotted the electronic numbers of our flight
blinking on the screen above the gigantic baggage claim belt. I
swear, it looked like a ride from Disneyland. He dropped our bags
and planted himself right at the mouth of the machine.


Do you know which way
it’s going to roll?” I said, giving him a slightly smart-ass
grin.


Of course, they only go
one way; to my right.” He pointed before smiling back.


Are you certain?” I
asked.


Yes,” he
answered.


So if you know, for
certain, that the belt is going to go to the right, then I should
know, for certain, how we are getting to the cabin. It’s only
fair.”


No it isn’t, one has
nothing to do with the other,” he laughed and grabbed my hand.
“Besides, don’t you want to be surprised on your birthday?” he
asked as he lowered his head and gave me the biggest puppy dog eyes
ever.


I guess.” He had
me.
Damn I can never win when he does
those sultry, don’t-disappoint-me eyes
.

My heart stumbled when the loud and
obnoxious buzzer interrupted my thoughts. The spinning light above
flashed a haunting, yellow glow across the waiting passengers’
faces. Suddenly, the snake-like belt began to move and the mouth of
the beast began to vomit groups of suitcases. People crowded around
Max, reaching in front of him across his primo space, and before
long, he was fishing and catching other people’s luggage. When I
finally spotted my suitcase, it was in a group with misfit and
tattered ones. Max, worn out from collecting everyone else’s bags,
had to dig and struggle to catch my suitcase and pull it to safety.
Thank God he was so strong; besides the fact that he let out a deep
heavy grunt, I knew I had overpacked.

I flashed him a
thank you for taking care of me
look. Breathing heavily, he forced a smile back
at me. I snatched up my backpack, flung it over one shoulder, and
pulled the handle of my suitcase. I wasn’t going to torture him
anymore with my tanker, I was just glad it had wheels. He grabbed
his duffle bag, checked his watch, and held out his
hand.


We’ve gotta go. Here,
give me your suitcase, I’ll pull it,” he said.


You don’t have to. I can
pull—”


Let me have it, we can’t
be late for our ride,” he insisted as he snatched the suitcase from
my hand.

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t
that strong, but I wasn’t going to let him pull my suitcase across
the airport.
I am independent and I can
handle it myself.
I snatched it back and
started walking faster toward the front exit.

BOOK: Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last
10.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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