Griffin’s skin felt like fire.
One moment they were trading the lightest caresses. The next, their hands were everywhere, touching, exploring. Griffin’s kisses became more urgent, demanding. When they fell back together on the couch and he rolled on top, Rae marveled at how well they fit together.
Breaking off, he lifted up onto his palms. “Not here.” He was panting, his mouth quirking into a grin. “It’d be our luck for Sally to come down.”
Rae scrambled upright. “I’m not sneaking upstairs to your bedroom. It’s too big a risk. Everyone’s home.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He brushed his lips beneath her ear, and she quivered.
She angled her neck back. What do you mean? The glint in his eyes was mesmerizing.
With a start, she understood. Excitement bubbled through her.
He pulled her to her feet. “Give me ten minutes,” he said, deciding for them. Which was astonishing—most of the time, she took the lead. “My parents won’t notice I’m gone. They’re too busy partying with their friends. Let’s meet in the parking lot behind the post office.”
“Which post office? Griffin, there are three in town.” To her consternation, Rae couldn’t mask the eagerness in her voice.
“The one with the big parking lot and no one around. We’ll have the place to ourselves.” He brushed his mouth across hers. Frowning, he cleared his throat. “Unless you’d rather go home. Totally your call.”
The decision was easy. On tiptoe, she nipped at his ear.
On the way to the foyer, Griffin made a detour away from his parents and their guests, who were laughing in the living room. She stayed close behind as he walked through the family room in a beeline to the liquor cabinet. They’d only sneaked into his father’s booze twice before and weren’t sure what they liked. Scanning the options, Griffin chose a bottle of whiskey.
“To celebrate,” he said.
“Great thinking.” Rae hid the bottle under her coat. She smiled mischievously. “Don’t keep me waiting. If you do, I’m drinking this bad boy alone.”
Security lights illuminated the empty post office.
Driving around back, Rae frowned. Griffin couldn’t have meant she should park near the lights. Far to the left, a row of small businesses in a long brick building were closed for the night. They were tucked far enough back from Cherry Street to lend privacy. Griffin would have no trouble spotting her car in the empty lot.
For a night in March, the temps were surprisingly warm. Rae opened the driver-side window. In the glare of headlights, she could see that the strip of grass before the shuttered businesses was already greening, as if, two months ago, the freak blizzard hadn’t covered Chardon in heavy drifts of snow.
The minutes ticked by. Rae cut the engine and doused the headlights. Where was Griffin? Unzipping her coat, she glanced at the bottle they’d taken from Everett’s liquor cabinet. Knob Creek. Opening it, she took a swig. The alcohol burned going down her throat, and she coughed.
She took another swig, pleased at how quickly the booze relaxed her. The bitter taste was no picnic, but the lazy sensation flowing through her veins was fantastic. The frisson of anxiety she’d carried around since the White Hurricane miraculously began to dissolve.
Griffin, hurry up.
Taking a third, larger gulp, Rae pondered the reasons for the delay. Had Griffin meant that they should meet behind the drugstore on Cherry Street? Now she wasn’t sure. Or maybe he was having trouble sneaking out of the house. A possibility if Winnie returned to the kitchen to prepare more snacks for her guests. Or Sally, catching him on the stairwell, was interrogating him about going out at ten o’clock on a school night.
Sally was only two years older than Griffin; a minor detail. Sometimes she gave him a hard time.
Then Rae hit upon the reason for the delay: Griffin was stopping at the twenty-four-hour drugstore at the other end of town. He was buying condoms. The prospect made her both anxious and excited.
The liquor was already making her feel loose and free, and another swig seemed unwise. She took one anyway. Then she got out to sit on the hood of her car. From somewhere far off, the wail of guitars reached her ears. From a bar nearby? She didn’t know, or care. Mostly because the moon drew her attention; it was a bobblehead in the sky. It wouldn’t sit still. Lying back, she laughed.
Time slowed to a luxurious crawl. She’d nearly dozed off when two voices—angry—came out of nowhere.
“This is my night out with the guys, Penny. Did you leave Quinn alone in the apartment?”