Shift

Like they are now. At least, my mom is.

I feel Dustin try to untether our fingers but I curl mine to urge him to stay with me, to hold my hand despite the judgement. Our time will come.

A quick glance to the set table shows how little my mom was prepared for the additional guest, despite the fact we have set a place for Dustin for as long as I can remember.

“Bailey, would you mind?” my mom says under her breath, handing a plate and a napkin wrapped with a set of silverware to my friend.

“Oh, sure,” Bailey says, shrinking her head in between her shoulders. She makes eye contact with me as she rounds the table, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable by the way she doesn’t blink. Like, at all. I walk to the other side and take the plate from her.

“I got it,” I say, purposely scooting the chair that is usually my mom’s seat to the side to make room for the one I’m about to add. I pull the spare chair from the closet and slide it between where I intend to sit and where my mom can choose to or not. I glance up as I arrange the silverware around the new setting and my mom looks away hurriedly when I catch her staring at me.

“There. Perfect,” I say, clapping my hands together.

Tommy snort laughs because he’s amused when I’m extra.

Despite the rough start, when everyone is sitting at the table and shoveling my mom’s pot roast into their mouths, things actually start to feel normal. My mom amuses us all with stories about local politics, like the man who filled out forty-seven public comment cards and spent the entire council meeting reading excerpts from his science fiction novel that he’s been working on for twenty years to a captive audience funded by tax dollars. My dad complains about one of his land cases, but cuts himself off when he realizes Bailey’s father might become the lawyer for the other side. My brother dodges questions from my mom about when he’s going to commit to Northern New Mexico University, where he has a full ride waiting.

I am on edge for his answer to that too, and I can tell Dustin is eager to say something to my brother about it. Tommy still doesn’t know that Dustin overheard him the night he admitted to having second thoughts about spending a year racing and putting off college. That’s, of course, a plan he never ran by my parents either. Fu

By the time di

“Right, well . . .” Dustin fumbles his words, slapping his hands on his knees then standing from the couch.

“Just let him stay,” my brother says, waving his hand in my parents’ direction. It’s greeted with a steely, emotionless and silent response.

“It’s fine, Tommy. I respect the rules of the house,” Dustin says. It stabs at my heart because the rules have changed for him, and that’s because of me.

“Thank you, Dustin,” my dad says, using his official voice. “Be sure you bring the Supra over when you get the other set on. Maybe we can take it out for some drifting, break ’em in right.”

Dustin flashes a short-lived smile on one side of his mouth.

“Sure, Mr. Judge.”

Everyone exchanges these strange, stilted nods that seem to ink a silent agreement that it’s time for Dustin to go. I slip from the couch and take his hand in mine, tugging him toward the door.

“I’m going to walk him out,” I say.

My mom makes brief eye contact with me then fakes a yawn. I can tell by the way she hovers her hand over her mouth to accentuate it. It’s barely eight-thirty. She’ll be up reading until eleven.

“Come inside soon,” she orders over her shoulder. Sure, her voice is syrupy sweet, but it also isn’t the real her. I don’t bother to respond, and instead salute my father, earning me a scowl before I head out the door to the driveway.

“Why did you have to throw that in,” Dustin sighs when the door is closed behind us.

“I couldn’t help it. Besides, a salute is a show of respect,” I reply.

He huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m sure you were being real respectful just then.”

I wrap my arms around his bicep and rest my head on his arm as we walk to his car. His lights flash as he unlocks the car with his fob and pulls his door open, sinking inside with his legs out the door. His fingers dance along the tips of mine as I stand between his feet, not even close to ready to go back inside.

“How about we just camp out here in your car?” I lift my eyebrows, sadly hoping he’ll like my idea. I relent at how desperate it is when he chuckles.

“I am pretty sure any time I spend with you alone when the moon is out is going to earn me very few brownie points,” he says through a laugh. “But . . .” He holds up his palm when he senses I’m about to argue. “I don’t really like brownies, so I’m willing to lose a few along the way.”

He tugs me down to his lap, turning me so my back rests on his seat and my knees draw in so I’m curled in his lap. His arms circle me as his nose playful brushes against mine a few times before his gaze falls to my mouth. My lips buzz with anticipation in the few breaths before his mouth covers mine. I don’t think I will ever tire of the way Dustin kisses. He’s attentive, passionate yet tender, rough and soft all at once. His teeth nip at my upper lip and a slight growl vibrates in his chest as I wiggle against his lap, feeling how hard he is against my thigh.

“Careful, Ha

“Don’t you, though?” I tease, shifting my knees apart just enough to encourage his hand to slide toward my i

“This is a bad idea,” he hums as I move my forehead to rest on his. My eyelashes flutter, my core swollen and ready to fall apart just from the idea that he may let his hand travel a little farther.

“I’m full of bad ideas,” I say, parting my knees a little more. Just enough.

Dustin’s hand trails up the inside of my leg, under the ripped hem of my denim shorts to the very wet strip of cotton between my legs. His fingers run along the center, stroking my swollen skin underneath and I sigh, letting my eyes close and my mouth fall to his ear.

“Touch me, Dustin. So I can sleep tonight,” I beg.

His chest fills with a long draw of air, his hand still sticking to this line he’s drawn, that somehow the thin layer of my panties makes what he’s doing chaste.

I bite at his earlobe, holding it between my teeth as a whimpered breath escapes my lips. That tiny sound seems to be enough to break his self-imposed rules, and in a breath, my panties are tugged to the side and his finger sinks into me, the entry sharp and sweet.

I clutch him, gripping his shoulders and tasting his neck with my tongue as he presses against my insides. His mouth moves to the curve of my shoulder and his teeth graze along my skin as his finger slides out then back in, picking up a slow rhythm that urges my hips to roll against it. I moan, careful to keep it quiet enough that it’s only a performance for him.