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CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR SUMMER OF '83
SHE SAT ON A LAWN CHAIR IN CAROL'S BACKYARD, sunglasses tipped lowly on her face as she glanced at Steve across from her. She had been tanning but was growing impatient.
He stood in the middle of the green grass with a mallet in his hand, carefully lining up his next move. Tommy H had previously went, knocking his ball askew, making Steve's move that much harder. Dylan rolled her eyes at the tediousness of it all. She hadn't come from a rich family as three friends did so lawn games such as croquet seemed tacky. She wouldn't be caught dead with a mallet in her hand.
"This is boring," she drawled out. "Can we go swimming or something? This shit is for old people."
Carol scoffed. "Just because you don't appreciate it doesn't mean it's for old people."
Carol stood behind Steve, leaning on the end of her mallet. Dylan shot her a cold look. "Sorry, Carol. I forgot you were a stuck-up, prissy bitch for a moment. Continue your stupid game."
"Dylan!"
Dylan shrugged and leaned back in the chair, letting her eyes close and relax. She could hear Steve snicker and knew Tommy was probably stifling his own laughter.
"How's this for exciting," Tommy spoke up, Dylan peeked at him through one eye. "My aunt is going out of town so my cousin invited us to Indianapolis for the weekend for a 72-hour, non-stop party."
"Okay, I'm intrigued." Dylan sat up straight, pulling her sunglasses on top her head. "Thank you for actually improving this dull summer."
"Hey!" Steve sounded offended. "What about me? I've been throwing parties every weekend and he gets the praise?"
"Steve. Drinking a half case of beer by your pool with six other people is not a party."
Steve crossed his arms, letting the mallet drop to the ground dramatically. "I didn't realize there were a set list of rules for a party, Dyl."
"Well," she pursed her lips. "There is. And your little shindigs don't qualify."
He frowned and Dylan smirked, pleased she had gotten under his skin. But Steve didn't let it go, instead he lunged at her, enveloping her in his arm, erratically tickling her everywhere. She squirmed, squealing under his touch.
She was soon out of breath and Steve stopped his attack, letting her lungs have a break. But he stayed on top of her, hovering over her with his arms propped up on the lawn chair. She grinned and he reciprocated the expression, his eyes dropping to her mouth for a split second. On instinct she did the same thing, imagining what would happen if she closed the distance between them then and there. She hadn't explored Steve as an option before, and she probably never seriously would, but for a brief second things felt hot between them.
