Page 18 of Sunday Morning
“You just said?—”
When he looked at me, he laughed. “I’m not wearing”—he glanced around again to see if anyone was listening before lowering his voice—“one of your dad’s condoms to have premarital sex with his daughter.”
“Dude!” I rubbed my face before tucking my hands into the back pockets of my pink cotton candy-colored shorts. “It’s not like I’d steal a used one from the garbage.”
“Yuck!” He fisted a hand at his mouth before turning his back to me. “Don’t say that. Stop talking about it. I’ll never be able to make eye contact with your dad again. I need to believe that your parents have done it three times. That’s it.”
“You’re so weird.” I hugged his back and giggled. “I’ll figure something out. Maybe I’ll drive to Runnells.”
“No. Jeez. That’s an hour away.” He peeled my armsfrom his waist and turned toward me again. “I can’t have you taking care of it. That’s my job. I’ll figure it out.”
I beamed because all of this meant that we were going to have sex.
“You won’t feel guilty? Like God’s judging you for sinning?” he asked.
“He’s a loving God—a forgiving one. It’s nothing a little prayer won’t handle. And it’s not like I’m killing anyone.”
“Sarah,” Matt rolled his eyes, “you’re the worst preacher’s daughter.”
“Pfft …” I smirked. “My sisters are worse. You just wait. Especially Gabby. She’s quiet. Too quiet. Always writing in her Bible. Something’s off about her. I promise you.”
Matt chuckled. “I think you’re wrong.” He ducked his head and kissed me on the cheek.
I grabbed his neck with both hands to keep him close. “Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like we’re going to have sex,” I whispered.
Indecision loomed in his eyes. Matt was a good boy. Too good.
I didn’t wait for him to overanalyze it; I kissed him. And when I opened my mouth, begging for him to stick his tongue in it, he pulled away.
“I’ll call you after dinner,” he said after clearing his throat.
“Fine.” I returned a tight smile while he climbed into his car.
“Sarah!”
I turned toward Heather’s shrill voice as she and Joanna shuffled their way toward me in the gravel parking lot, kicking up dust with their dirty Keds just as Matt pulled out of his spot.
Joanna smacked her gum, gathering her black permed hair in one hand while her other checked her voluminous mall bangs, which were held in place with so much hairspray that they could’ve survived a tornado.
“Did you tell Matt you were flirting with his brother?” Joanna eyed me.
“Shut up. I was not. Isaac is such a jerk.”
“But ahotjerk,” Heather said.
Yes. Isaac was very hot. Scorching hot. Burn-in-Hell level of hot.
“Oh, did you ask your parents about camping over the Fourth?” Heather asked.
“Mine said yes,” Joanna said, absentmindedly twirling her hair around her finger.
I nodded. “They said as long as it’s just girls and no guys.”
“How would they know?” Heather waggled her eyebrows even though we weren’t inviting guys.
“Who would you invite?” Joanna asked. “Matt or Isaac?”
Heather snorted, covering her mouth.