Page 78 of Puck Love

She pursed her lips in barely concealed glee. “Good. Of course, a little crunch won’t hurt ya either. I’m old, and shit happens.”

“Everything is great, I swear, but this is breakfast number two for me. I had a couple of Pop-Tarts earlier.”

“Is that what the kids are calling sex these days?”

I choked on my eggs, mumbling my thanks as she pushed a glass of orange juice in front of me. “Jesus, Mrs. M.”

Annie snort-laughed. “Oh, don’t be a precious flower, sunshine. If you’ve found a titillating distraction in Elmwood, I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, but?—”

“And curious. Who is she?” Annie hummed thoughtfully when I shook my head. “It’s a secret. Okay. I respect that. I wish I could figure it out. I’ve been watching out the window for days on end, but you’ve been around less than usual, and I haven’t seen any other cars in the driveway. You’re probably seeing a local, but for the life of me, I don’t know who it could be. Hannah Archer, Rebecca Burstow, Jenny Muldugno? It’s not MK, is it? She’s dating that sweet boy from Pinecrest and?—”

“Good for her, but I’m just having fun this summer, Mrs. M. Same as usual.”

“Okay, okay.” She stood slowly and ambled to my side, patting my cheek affectionately before pointing at the collar of my T-shirt. “Nice hickey.”

My hand flew to my neck. I sputtered the beginnings of an explanation but let it go.

Annie didn’t care if I was making out with half the population of Elmwood, and though she might be curious, she wasn’t the type to dig for information I didn’t want to share. My only concern was that she might say something to Denny, but then again…did it matter? He’d think it was a summer hookup, and he’d be correct.

Jake and I were the very definition of a summer fling. We had a finite boundary, a code of silence, and a hard end date. We spent our days pretending to be annoyed with each other’s existences and our nights consumed with lively conversations and incredible sex. We were together every day and every night.

We’d quickly decided we were better off leaving the groups as is at camp. I wanted more time with Jake, not less. I could tease him and he could roll his eyes, and maybe no one would noticethat we didn’t avoid each other the way we used to. We made an effort to hang out in crowds too—burgers at the diner, beers at the Black Horse, barbecues at local coach’s homes. Together and yet not.

We were never together in a way anyone would recognize, but we couldn’t have been closer if we tried. I slept in his bed every night and sneaked into Denny’s rental in the wee hours of the morning…well before Annie was awake. I’d borrowed Jake’s toothbrush when I’d forgotten mine and laughed when he’d growled at me, then bought me a spare one the next day. I bought groceries, replenished his supply of sparkling water, and put my Pop-Tarts in his pantry next to his organic rosemary crackers.

The shades of cohabitation were unmistakable, but that didn’t mean anything. Our primary object was still sex.

At least, it was supposed to be.

Truthfully, the lines were beginning to blur. We spent as much timing talking about current events, music we liked, and our adolescent crushes as we did fucking around in bed.

Tonight, we barbecued kabobs pierced with onions and bell peppers while reminiscing over first kisses.

“I was fourteen,” Jake reported, using tongs to turn the meat. “Janie Beckman kissed me next to the refreshment stand at the high school dance. The fact that my dad was chaperoning and witnessed the whole thing made it ten shades of extra awkward.”

I chuckled. “I was thirteen. Emily…something. I forget her last name, but I remember that she liked hockey. A lot. She used to hang out at the rink and wait for me. I think she was my first stalker.”

“Your first? You’ve had a few?”

“Are you joking? After every game, I’ve got a posse of fans who want to go home with me.” Slight exaggeration but it wasn’t untrue, and I had a feeling it was the same for Jake. There wasalways someone willing to warm my bed. Always someone to take the edge off and keep me company for a night or two.

“How often do you take one of them up on their generous offer?” he asked.

I pointed at the onion blackening on one of the kabobs. “Not often.”

Jake snapped his gaze my way. “Really?”

“It used to be a rush to have someone want me because I was semi-famous and good at my job. Now it feels cold.”

He stacked the kabobs on a plate and set it on the picnic table. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“It also feels a little weird to talk about hooking up with random women with the guy I’m secretly doing the dirty with,” I observed, slathering butter on an ear of corn on the cob.

Jake sat across from me and playfully kicked my shin. “I get that. It’s probably very uncool of me to admit this, but the idea of you with anyone else makes me feel ill.”

I kicked him back and bit into the corn cob. “Good. It makes me feel homicidal.”