The Culture of Hooking Up

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

Three months later

Laney

"I'm literally going to sh*t my pants, and I'm not even wearing any—keep your eyes on the road!" I fling my hand out when Jack passes a glance at my bare thighs. I have to keep lifting them to unstick them from the leather passenger seat of his dad's old red pickup truck.

     Technically, speaking the black romper I'm wearing can't be considered pants, shorts maybe, but not pants. My right hand goes back to fidgeting with one of the many buttons going down the center, while my left hand continues to keep the box of cookies steady on my lap. The romper is one of the few things I bought this summer at TJMaxx using my employee discount. I also had to buy Jack some new t-shirts because I may have stolen a few before we parted for the summer.

     Taryne joked about me ditching her when he came to pick me up at our new dorm, and I all but ran out of the door. But I couldn't help it. My flip flops smacked against the pavement as I barreled towards him. He stood on the sidewalk lining the parking lot behind our dorm building in his cargo shorts and polo. His smile only got bigger and bigger as I got closer and closer. He spread his arms, but then grunted in surprise with the impact of my chest against his, but it wasn't a bad or unexpected kind of surprised, rather, the good kind, the amused kind, the kind that you sigh into. We just stood there for who knows how long as his fingers skimmed along my back and played with the long ends of my hair.

     "I missed you, too," he hummed into my ear.

     He let his hair grow out. Instead of flapping from side to side on his head, it curls around his ears. I've been tempted to reach out and re-tuck it myself, but he passes another glance my way, and I can't help but smile. His smile is all lopsided as he turns back to face the car filled expressway outside the windshield. My stomach dips again because our destination is his house for his sister's engagement party to her longtime partner.

     "Don't be nervous," he repeats for the third time since we got in the car, but we still have an hour and a half of the two hour car ride for me to debate about yanking on the wheel and turning the car back around. 

****

Jack's house is a faded light blue with a white door. Everything about it seems to be in halves. It's halfway down the road. It has half a small patch of grass in front and half of a cobblestone driveway. It only has half a roof because it's mostly flat and only halfway slanted up on one side. In a way, it's half a house because it appears to be only one story, as if someone decided to take a big saw and cut it in half, while the houses beside it are tall and have three, seemingly layered, triangle roofs. 

     Jack cuts the engine and pushes open the door. I go to push open mine, but it won't budge, and Jack's eyes laugh at me through the window.

     "I told you it gets stuck," he says after shaking it open for me, referring to my earlier complaint that he doesn't need to open and close doors for me all the time.

     "Fine." I stick out my tongue at him as I hop out. "I'll let it slide—this time."

     Our feet crunch against the cobblestones before we hop up onto the small cement pathway leading up to his door. My stomach dips again as I follow him up the three cement steps. The flowers on the welcome mat are faded as I dig my feet into one of the sunflowers, while Jack twists open the silver handle. 

     "Mom? Dad?" he calls as my eyes focus on the cotton material of his black polo.

     "Will ya look who it is!" a gruff voice calls.