Honestly, even though I’ve tried to carefully broach the subject, we’ve yet to really talk about the fact that he’s not going to be staying local. And anytime I bring up that soon-to-be reality, Remy tends to change the subject entirely.
“How old do you need to be to get married?”
“Excuse me?” That startles a laugh from my throat. “Is there something you need to tell me? Don’t you think you’re a little young for you and Brandon to be thinking about marriage?”
“Get real, sis. I broke up with Brandon two weeks ago.” Isabella rolls her eyes. “And I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about you and Remy. I think that’s what you guys should do.”
“Remy and I should do what?”
“Get married! Duh!”
I turn to look at her. “You do realize I’m only sixteen, right? That’s a bit young to be getting married. Or even thinking about getting married.”
“Yeah, but you’re going to end up marrying him someday anyway. Why not just do it now?”
“Because I’m sixteen and still have my whole life ahead of me.” I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “You trying to get me out of the house just so you can take over my bedroom or something?”
“No…” She pauses and then adds, “But you bring up a really good point.”
I pick up a pillow and throw it at her head. “Jerk!”
She laughs and tosses it back at me before shuffling back out of my room, but not before shouting over her shoulder, “I still think you guys should get married!”
She’s crazy, obviously, but man, my mind can’t stop replaying her words.
You’re going to end up marrying him someday anyway.
My heart wants to jump on the bandwagon and agree with her, but my mind is way too logical for that.
I may be young, but I’m not na?ve. Most high school relationships don’t last. Especially when one-half of the relationship will be in high school for two more years, while the other half is college-bound.
And with the way Remy has been avoiding the whole conversation revolving around him going off to college and where that leaves us, I can’t help but wonder if it’s for reasons I might find hard to hear.
Reasons that might break your heart.
Still Saturday, November 9th
Remy
When I step into the bathroom, I’m pleasantly surprised to find Maria standing in front of the mirror, putting on lipstick. Her long brown hair hangs down past her shoulders, and her body is dressed to impress in the kind of silk blouse and tight pencil skirt that makes her ass look juicy as hell.
Damn, she’s sexy.
I step over to my gorgeous woman at the sink, stand directly behind her, and wrap my arms around her waist. “Mornin’， babe. I had a feeling you’d be in here getting ready.”
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
I squeeze her hips. “Are the girls awake yet?”
“Lexi just finished feeding Izzy her bottle and is currently entertaining her in the living room.”
“You should’ve woken me up. I would’ve handled them while you got ready.”
“Why?” she questions and meets my reflection in the mirror. “You looked peaceful, and Lex and I had it covered.”
“What time do you need to be at your first showing?”
“In about forty minutes,” she updates and uses a brush to make the apples of her cheeks pink. “There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen, by the way. Just made a pot about ten minutes ago.”
I know I should leave her to whatever it is women need to do to get ready, but man, her ass, in this skirt, is nearly too much for my mind to stay on task. Before I know it, I’m sliding both of my big hands away from her hips and straight onto the perfect, rounded, curvy ass of hers that makes my brain short-circuit and my dick take far too much notice.
“Remy,” she says, her voice a warning. An amused warning, mind you.
“What?” I feign innocence but still keep my grip. “I’m just smoothing out a few wrinkles.”
“Off the skirt I just ironed?”
“Irons are tricky things, babe.” I shrug. “Sometimes they miss a few spots.”
She snorts, and I squeeze my big hands into her curvy flesh some more.
“Remy!” She’s laughing now.
“Just a few pieces of lint, babe.” Still squeezing. “I think I got it…” I pause, staring down at her ass like I’m just trying to help her out. “Oh…wait…just a few more pieces of lint,” I add, squeezing a little harder this time.