Boy on a Train: The All American Boy Series Page 6

  “Oh.” She quieted, and I kicked myself for not saying something nice. It wasn’t that she didn’t look fantastic, but it seemed like something troubled her. “I didn’t sleep well.”

  I got an image of Audrey all curled up in her bed, her long hair splayed across a snowy white pillow and immediately banished that thought to my spank bank. It didn’t belong in my brain now. I’d take it out later when I could do something with it.

  “Anything else going on?” I tried to keep my voice quiet.

  She peered at me over the menu. I didn’t know why she bothered reading the entrees. It wasn’t like she ever ordered anything but the truly outstanding grilled cheese anyway.

  This fact heartened me.

  I knew her. I loved the fact that I knew her possibly better than she knew herself, the advantage of years of studying her. Hopefully I wasn’t too stalkery. I just cared.

  Audrey didn’t answer me for a beat. Then another. “Family stuff,” she finally said. “My mom is sick.”

  “What kind of sick?”

  “She’s got MS.”

  My stomach dropped. “Is she going to be okay?”

  Audrey nodded. “Yeah, I think so. She should live a long time. But she’ll be in a wheelchair soon.”

  “Babe. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it now. We can talk about it later. Okay?”

  I nod. “If that’s what you want. You know you can talk about anything with me, right?”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  This was a huge setback, but I decided not to push her, especially when she didn’t want to talk about it. We’d have plenty of time later. I’d help her process it.

  “Distract me, okay?” she whispered. “Tell me something.”

  I paused, thinking. “Perry got a Vespa. He has this set of goggles that makes him look steampunk. I swear my brother cosplays his real life.”

  She laughed. “What color is the scooter?”

  “Black. I have no idea how he plans to pick up a date on that thing.”

  “Maybe she’ll just have to have her own. They can ride together.”

  I smiled. “I can see that.”

  Our beverages got delivered, and again we were left alone. I glanced up at her as she sipped her drink, her cute nose scrunching at the bubbles.

  She said to distract her.

  I had a huge distraction.

  I wanted this girl sitting across from me.

  Bert had been right. I needed confidence, and the glacial pace I’d set needed to speed up.

  The time had come to make my move.

  If I asked her and she said no, I might fuck up our friendship for the rest of our lives, and I wasn’t sure my heart could take that. In fact, I knew it couldn’t.

  But if I didn’t ask her, my heart would hurt worse. It would split or possibly dissolve.

  I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to ask. I had to take the next step.

  So here I was, putting myself on the line, with no other choice.

  Now or never.

  My heart started racing, and my palms got clammy. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Her cautious tone meant she knew this wouldn’t be a normal conversation. A variety of emotions flittered across her face—apprehension, excitement, confusion.

  I leaned forward and lowered my voice. Stay calm. Start simple. “Would it freak you out if I told you I like you? That I like you very much?” My heart pounded in my ears, and my stomach clenched, waiting for her to respond.

  Audrey closed her eyes and blushed. “No. I like you, too.” A delicate finger reached out and hooked my index finger, then she let it go and glanced away, like she’d assumed too much.

  She got it wrong. Her easy tone told me she thought I meant I liked her as friends.

  I didn’t.

  This wasn’t going the way I hoped, and I needed to say it better. I leaned in closer, and she finally looked at me with both trust and wariness in her brown eyes.

  “No, that’s not what I meant. What I want to know is, would it freak you out if you knew that I like you as more than friends.” I scrubbed my hands over my cheeks. “That I want to date you. More than only today. I mean, I’m asking you if you want to be my girlfriend, not just my friend. Because I really, really like you. A lot.”

  God, I was a fool, but at least the words had left my mouth, and I hadn’t died yet, nor had she slapped me or run away. So those were two things on my side.

  I waited for her response, as the rise and fall of the sun hung in suspense.

  “You do?” The innocent surprise on her face hurt my solar plexus.

  Has she not known how much I adore her? God, I’m an asshole.

  “Yeah.” My voice came out husky. “I’ve been waiting for you to decide if I was what you wanted, because I knew that you were all I wanted. But I can’t wait anymore. I have to know. Will you be my girlfriend?”

  Now she nodded repeatedly, and her cuteness made my heart thump more. How could she doubt how much I wanted her? “Yes. I agree. I’d love to. Date, I mean. Be my boyfriend. I mean, your girlfriend. I mean,” she sighed, frustration clear as she stumbled on the words too. “I’d like us to be boyfriend-girlfriend. I like you a lot. Also.” The fact that she fumbled over her words made me happy in a weird way, because it wasn’t just me. Despite our easy conversation on everything else, neither one of us was good at talking about what we meant to each other.

  Still, the binds around my heart eased up, and my heart rate calmed down. But then what we’d just finished saying dawned on me and my pulse jacked right up again.

  I had a girlfriend, the only girlfriend I’d ever craved. Audrey was mine.

  Yes.

  I restrained myself from bounding across the table to kiss her, since I should just let her drink her root beer in peace. Still, I practically pulsed, wanting to run around the restaurant to burn off energy.

  “I’m glad we waited,” she said. “Because I really like you.” Her face reddened. “I’ve liked you this whole time, actually.”

  Again, my heart soared. “You have?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s mutual.” I grinned like crazy now. “Completely.”

  Now that my secret was out in the open, a weight lifted from my shoulders. The knowledge that I liked her was a heavy book I’d put in my backpack no one could see. Now that I’d taken it out, I didn’t miss it. I only noticed how good I felt not having to carry it around with me.

  Everything was right in the world, and she could be mine. Forever.

  The waiter came back, and we ordered. I almost told him she’d want the grilled cheese, but I didn’t want to be that arrogant prick who didn’t let his girlfriend talk. I just liked taking care of her and learning every single thing about her. There was so much to know and adore.

  Also. Girlfriend.

  When he left, and after Audrey ordered the grilled cheese, I took both of her hands in mine and asked, “Where do you want to go after lunch? Do you need to go back home?”

  A fleeting, far-away look passed behind her eyes.

  “Do you need to go spend time with your mom?”

  She straightened and brightened. “No, I don’t have to go home right now. My dad is with her. Where do you want to go?”

  “We could go to Black Bishop Winery to see the art, if you like.”

  Audrey’s face took on that contented look she always got when I suggested something that surprised and pleased her. Like I’d granted a wish she didn’t know she had. “Sounds like fun. I haven’t been there in years.” Then she tilted her head to the side. “Do you think I’ll ever like wine?”

  I chuckled. “No. Never. Not my Audrey.”

  My Audrey.

  You couldn’t escape wine in Merlot. Vineyards and wineries were interwoven into our town’s history and a huge source of business and tourism. Our school mascot was the Grape Crushers. Many homeowners even had rows of grapes in their bac
kyards.

  So, the fact that Audrey hated wine really stuck out, especially since tourists couldn’t get enough of the stuff. While her parents weren’t as permissive as mine, they, like mine, didn’t care if she had a sip every once in a while. But there was no chance of her turning into a wino.

  That didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy Black Bishop, though.

  Tasting rooms in Napa and Sonoma Counties varied widely. Some massive estates loomed large in the landscape, with space to picnic among tasteful gardens. Other locations were nestled behind unmarked gates so secretive, you basically had to be my mom to get a tasting. And still others offered attractions besides the wines, which was helpful when you were, oh, eighteen, and couldn’t legally try said beverages.

  But even among all the wineries, Black Bishop stood out.

  Besides the galleries, the small, private grounds had an excellent backdrop—a view of the valley. A fantastic place to turn our second kiss into an event.

  Our food came soon enough, and we dug in, chatting about finals and graduation.

  After we ate lunch, I paid, despite her protest and attempt to pay for half. “I asked you out, and this is our first date. You can take me out sometime, but this was my treat,” I said firmly.

  Audrey paused for a moment to consider, then her smile hit me in the feels. “I will. Thank you.” She took my hand as we left, and it felt right. We should’ve been doing that long ago.

  We stepped outside into the warm, clear afternoon. Since I wanted to catch the sunset, we needed to take our time getting up to Black Bishop. So, I had another errand to do with her.

  In my truck, Audrey went to put on her seatbelt in her usual space, but she was too far away. I knew it was cheesy to have her sit right beside me in a pickup truck. Buuuttt—

  Fuck it. “Scoot so you’re beside me,” I said.

  She gave me a sideways glance. “Are you ordering me around?”

  Yes? No? “Maybe?”

  “Okay.” And easy as that, she slid over and belted herself in next to me. I wrapped an arm around her and smiled into her shoulder, then started the MLR. She smelled like strawberries.

  I drove until we turned into the parking lot of Walgreens.

  A suspicious expression came over Audrey’s face. “You’re not buying condoms, are you?” Then her cheeks reddened, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, god. I said that out loud. Shoot me.”

  A laugh burst out of me. “No,” I stuttered. “Nothing like that. Trust me.” I climbed out of the car and pulled her with me, trying not to think of condoms.

  Which I’d already bought.

  Instead, we went to the photo counter, staffed by Hunter, a junior I knew from football. He gave us a halfhearted smile, clearly sick of working at this place and dealing with the public. “Can I help you?” he asked morosely.

  “We need to take passport photos,” I said. “Or actually, Audrey does.”

  She turned to me, her lips parting in surprise. “Passport photos? You can’t surprise me with those. Before I take photos that are going to last for ten years, I need to do my hair! And I don’t have lip gloss—“

  “You look beautiful,” I assured her, giving her fingers a squeeze. “And if you don’t like them, we’ll retake them until you do.”

  The smile that spread across her face made my heart soar. “God, you really are the best.” It looked like she was going to lean up and kiss me, and I held my breath. But instead, she stepped over to the wall, stood in front of the white background, and smiled for Hunter as he fumbled with the camera. He took a few pictures, and when he nodded that he got the shot, he let her review them. She approved, and he printed a set for her.

  “One step closer to the Anti-Bucket List,” I murmured as I paid for them, again over her protest. “I made you an appointment to get your passport, too.”

  She shook her head silently at me, a strange wistful expression on her face, and held my hand as we returned to the truck. “You’re incredible, Tate.”

  Back in the MLR, we headed up the hills to the stylish concrete posts signaling the winery entrance and pulled into a gravel parking lot. I stopped and helped her out of the car, proud she was by my side.

  We walked up to the glass and concrete building hand in hand, chewing on spearmint gum from Walgreens. Fresh breath mattered. Even more now that we might kiss.

  Sidestepping Black Bishop’s tasting room, which had a line out the door, we walked inside the main building and stopped short. An involuntary chuckle came out of me.

  In the gallery, a glass eggplant lay next to a glass peach on a Lucite pedestal, lighted as if the sculptures were Tiffany jewelry.

  Audrey snorted, standing stock still. “Is this emoji art? That’s a dick and a butt, isn’t it?”

  I grinned. “Yep. What do you think?”

  Whirling around in a slow circle, she took in the scene before us. “I think it’s awesome.”

  Black Bishop winery, run by family friends, was home to the weirdest art collection this side of San Francisco. The funky, rotating collections were the closest thing to an art museum in Merlot.

  Audrey and I wandered through the exhibit, hand in hand. The artist had taken emojis and recreated them in blown glass, then arranged them so they said something. It was the viewer’s job to figure out what they meant. Some were easy, like a thumb’s up or a purple devil’s face. But others?

  “A cherry and a dog?” Audrey asked.

  “Oh my god.” I laughed. “Perry texts that all the time, in response to just about anything. ‘Cherry, Dawg.’” I shook my head. “He’s such a … a … Perry.” I turned to the next. “Lipstick and a horse?”

  “Kiss my ass,” she read solemnly from a card to the side. We burst out laughing, and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.

  Slow and steady, moving from hand holding to bodies touching. She bumped into me playfully with her shoulder, and I held her closer.

  “Red prohibited sign, clock, bull, poop?” She squinted at the card. “No time for your bullshit.”

  But as fun as the art was, what mattered was holding Audrey’s hand and bumping shoulders with her and having my arm wrapped around her and getting our bodies to touch each other and simply spending time laughing with her, with our boundaries down. With her as my date, not just my friend.

  An afternoon that for the first time ever had the possibility for more.

  “Do you want to go outside,” I suggested after we’d seen everything. “Check out the gardens?”

  I couldn’t care less about the gardens. My thoughts were on other things.

  “Sure,” she agreed easily enough.

  We stepped outside into the sunlight and the green vines, and walked along the gravel path, as the light shone on the gilt edges of her auburn hair.

  “It’s pretty out here,” she said, taking in the landscape, her eyes wide.

  “So are you,” I said, focusing on her.

  I turned so we faced each other, all of the valley below us, a patchwork of vineyards and houses and farms. The only person I saw—the only one I’d ever wanted—wasn’t even a foot away from me. I peered down at her.

  God, she’s gorgeous.

  My heart pounded, and I felt dizzy. I could do this. I’d planned this. It was going to be perfect.

  I stepped in closer and traced her cheek with my finger. Then I dropped my hand to my pocket because my palms had become clammy, and I was barely keeping them from shaking. My dick was definitely paying attention and taking notes on the proceedings.

  Audrey’s eyes caught mine, at first questioning, then widening with wonder, and then softening with a small nod.

  Permission.

  She wanted me, too. And unlike in her room, she was ready.

  I leaned in, tilting my face towards Audrey for our first real kiss.

  A female voice sounded behind me. “Tate Lemieux, is that you? And Audrey Staunton?” Audrey and I both jumped apart, startled.

  I turned around to a tiny woman in Bir
kenstocks and brown clothes from the 1970s. She held the hand of a bigger woman, with tattoos up and down her arms.

  Oh, fuck. It was our ninth grade health teacher and her wife. My entire body screamed in protest.

  Figured. I finally got the nerve to tell Audrey how I felt and to kiss her for real and we ran into the woman who taught us about reproduction. Who lectured us for days and days on the parts of the male and female genitalia. A woman who projected a diagram of the male reproductive system on the wall, then hit it with the pointer stick so every guy in the room winced.

  I winced at the memory.

  Shoot me now.

  Audrey looked as embarrassed as I felt. “Hi, Mrs. Sanchez.”

  “It’s very good to see you. Are you looking forward to graduation?” she asked us, a curious expression on her face, like she didn’t know she’d just interrupted the most important moment of my life. Like I wasn’t about to kiss the only girl I’ve ever loved, and she ruined it.

  Not that I was bitter.

  “Yeah, um,” I said.

  “You have to enjoy the last of these high school days before they’re gone.” She squeezed the hand of her wife. “But this place is wonderful. Jennie and I like to come here often for the exhibits.”

  “Us too. Or, that’s why we’re here.”

  One of the reasons.

  Mrs. Sanchez said, “Plus, we’re members of their wine club. You should tell your parents to check it out.”

  The grin on my face turned manic.

  Audrey saved the day. “I’m sure Lemieux Catering has been here plenty.”

  “True, true.” Mrs. Sanchez kept beaming at us.

  “Well, it’s been nice to see you. Will we be seeing you at graduation?” Audrey asked.

  “Absolutely. It’s always bittersweet because you are going away to college, but I’m proud of both of you and your accomplishments. Where are you headed?”

  I itched to leave, recalibrating my plans, so I blurted out, “Columbia. Audrey’s going to the Fashion Institute of Technology in Manhattan. We both got into our first choice schools.” Audrey crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pressed tight for some reason. “But right now, I was just going to go show Audrey the view.”