A. Jackson - When We Met

“Nope. It’s one minute past three, to be exact,” I said, trying to act cool over the sight of Courtney dressed in tight jeans. The denim hugged all her assets, highlighting them in a way that should have been illegal. The tight pink sweater that strained across her large full breasts was almost my undoing. A clear mental picture of what lay underneath filled my head and was enough to make my mouth go dry. I took the opportunity while her head was down to shift my boys while I still had some control. All I could think was that it was a good thing my coat ran past my waist.

“Indy, I’m leaving. Do you want me to lock the front door?” Courtney called down the hall.

“No, Kier is on his way over.”

“Okay, see you later.” Courtney closed the door, shrugging into a short jacket that stopped at her waist just above her amazing ass. Tonight was going to be like a medieval torture exercise on my body.

“So, that was one of my roommates,” Courtney commented as I took her elbow to guide her down the icy sidewalk. It was a move Mom had instilled in me when I was ten. Always open the door for a lady, and let her go first. I was unprepared for how I felt touching her. There were at least two layers of clothing separating skin-on-skin contact, but I could still sense the warmth of her arm.

Courtney looked down at my hand. “Are you afraid I don’t know how to walk?” she asked, although she didn’t pull away.

“My mom always taught me it was polite to escort a lady over treacherous terrain.”

“And you think this is treacherous terrain?” She patted the rust bucket of a car when we passed it.

“Sure. It’s icy and the sidewalk slants slightly. Besides, it gives me a chance to hold on to you so you can’t bolt,” I stated, opening the car door for her. “So, is that your car?” I asked skeptically, climbing behind the wheel of my car.

“Yeah, that’s Lucy.” She turned to glare at me, clearly challenging me to say something derogatory.

“Lucy?” I asked playfully, sidestepping the fact that it was a complete piece of junk.

“Yeah, Lucy. Are guys the only ones allowed to name their vehicles?”

“Well, no. It’s just, Lucy doesn’t quite seem appropriate for that car.”

“Maybe not to you. There’s nothing wrong with Lucy. Sure, she’s not as pretty or fancy as some cars, but she’s reliable, and I don’t have to worry about any dings or scratches.”

“Damn, extract the claws from my ass. I wasn’t criticizing.”

“Right. Everyone picks on poor Lucy. So, where are you taking me?”

“Twelve Acres Vineyards.”

“Nice. That’s not too far away.”

“Have you been? Wait—do you even like wine? I guess that information would have been vital for me to check on before I made our reservation.”

She started laughing at my question.

I couldn’t help smiling with her. She had a great laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“You asking me if I like wine. My roommates would bust a gut. They call me a wine snob since that’s usually the only alcoholic beverage I drink. Well, besides an occasional shot.”

“Really? What about beer?”

“Yuck, I hate beer. The taste and smell make me want to gag.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you know you work in a sports bar, right? Beer is kind of a staple item at a place like Gruby’s.”

“I’ve learned to block it out. It’s not like I’m sticking my nose in everyone’s glasses.”

I chuckled at her explanation. It was sound reasoning.

“What about you? You don’t exactly look like a sommelier.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. I am quite gifted at wine tasting and pairing.” I grinned when she looked surprised. Sommelier wasn’t a word that was thrown around much on a college campus. “You’re surprised I know what a sommelier is?” I teased, resting my hand on hers. I expected her to pull away, but she shocked me by turning her hand over and lacing her fingers through mine. It was just holding hands, but it was a step in the right direction.

“Okay, I’ll admit I’m a little surprised. Even I hadn’t ever heard of pairing when it comes to wine. So, where did you get your knowledge?”

“My parents took me on a tour of wine country in California when I was fourteen. It was supposed to coincide with an important basketball camp, but I broke my hand and couldn’t go. I remember my dad was pissed because most of the best players my age were going to be there. He wanted to cancel, but the trip was already booked, so they dragged me along while I pouted the entire time. I complained bitterly, wondering why we couldn’t go to a theme park instead since we were going to be in California. After a few days, I discovered wine country wasn’t all that bad.”

“What was her name?” Courtney asked.

“Excuse me?”

“What was the girl’s name who still makes you grin like a goof? No boy would have fond memories of wine country over theme parks if a girl wasn’t involved. Spill it.”

“Touché. Her name was Honey.”

Courtney snorted loudly. “Sorry, did you say Honey? Why am I not surprised?”

“You like busting my balls, don’t you?”

She smirked. “You’re an easy target. I’m sorry for interrupting. Please tell me about Honey.”

“Anyway, I met Honey at a bed-and-breakfast we were staying at for a couple days. Her parents owned it. You’ll love this part. She lived up to her name. Her skin was the color of honey, and she wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. Being a young lad of fourteen, I definitely appreciated the short shorts she traipsed around the vineyard wearing. They left little to the imagination and within hours of meeting her, I came up with any excuse I could to trail around after her.

“She was sixteen, and I guess you could say way more experienced than any other girls I knew. Because I was tall for my age, she assumed I was older. Being the bright boy I was, I didn’t bother to correct her. On our second day at her parents’ vineyard, Honey pulled me into one of the dim barns, away from prying eyes. We were just about to round second base when my dad busted us.

“He had no qualms about throwing me under the humiliation bus by totally blurting out my age, and that I was way too young to be fooling around in some barn. Honey was horrified that she almost got felt up by a fourteen-year-old, and stalked off after informing me I was nothing but a boy. Dad thought the situation was funnier than I did. I remember wishing a pile of wine barrels would fall on me and put me out of my misery.”

Courtney had started laughing halfway through my story, and was now wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious. The great Dalton Thompson strikes out thanks to his daddy. Now, tell me. What is your idea of second base?”

“You don’t know what second base is?” I shook my head in mock disbelief.

“I know what I think second base is. I want to hear what your idea is.”

“Second base is tongue action and northern touches.”

“Northern touches?”

“Yeah, you know, copping a boob feel.” I felt my cheeks flushing slightly. Who would ever have thought I’d be embarrassed over talking about feeling a girl up? In my defense, it wasn’t normally a subject that came up with girls.

“You poor thing. So Daddy busted you before you could actually cup anything?” She smirked, obviously finding humor at my expense.

“The sad thing is I was right on the verge. The tips of my fingers had just grazed the lace of her bra when he walked in. It’s not funny,” I added as she started laughing again. “Okay, now it’s your turn to tell me something embarrassing that happened to you.”

“I was perfect and escaped any embarrassing moments unscathed.”

I could tell she was full of it by the way her mouth twitched. “I don’t believe you. Spill it. I told you mine. Now you tell me yours. Sharing is caring.”

“Oh boy. It’s getting deep in here. Did you just say sharing is caring?”

“I did. I can own it. Now stop stalling.”

Courtney

Dalton found my embarrassing tale of how I’d once flashed a lifeguard at a water park one summer very amusing. At least my story killed the rest of the time it took to get to our destination. I recounted how, unbeknownst to me, my chest had been on display for the world to see. I’d just gone down one of those twisty water slides when I splashed hard into the pool of water at the end. Standing at the bottom of the slide, I’d been too busy trying to get the water out of my face while making sure my hair wasn’t a total wreck to worry about the cool breeze on my chest.

It was only when my friend shrieked my name that I discovered the horrifying truth. The lifeguard was standing not two feet away from me. His eyes were locked on my chest, which was insanely large for my petite fifteen-year-old body. I hit the deck like a sniper had taken me out. Ducking beneath one foot of water, I tried to stuff my goods back into my skimpy top that had seemed so perfect when I picked it out at the mall.

“So, you’re telling me you didn’t realize both of your . . .” He paused, searching for the politically correct term. “They were hanging completely out?” he asked, pointing to my breasts.

“Boobs. And no. Not until my friend called my name. I’m not kidding when I tell you at least an entire minute passed while Lifeguard Boy got quite the eyeful.”

“Lucky guy. I bet you made his whole summer.” Dalton’s eyes drifted to my chest before returning back to the road.

“It was single-handedly the most mortifying moment of my life.” I couldn’t help joining in his laughter as he pulled into the parking lot of 12 Acres Vineyards. “I never went back, by the way.”

“Trust me when I say you were probably a pool legend after that. I bet he told every guy he knew. I wish I was there.”

“You were too busy being a basketball star by then. Hanging out with me was no longer cool.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them and I felt like a total bitch. It didn’t help to keep dragging up our past. He’d already apologized. I needed to let it go. I opened my car door, welcoming the cold blast of frigid air that smacked me in the face, swearing under my breath when I stepped out.

Dalton rounded the car and placed an arm across my shoulders, tucking me against his side. “I really am sorry.” He pulled me closer as we stood in the parking lot.

I tilted my face up to look at him. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I’m a jerk for bringing it up again. We were twelve. I’m embarrassed I allowed it to color my opinion of you for so long.” I ducked my head back down when a new blast of cold air hit me in the face.

Dalton covered my face with his arm, leading me toward the building, away from the wind. The size difference between us was somewhat awkward for a moment, but somehow we made it work. Surprisingly we fit like two pieces of a puzzle. I burrowed closer against him as we walked, enjoying the closeness. The smell of his cologne and the soap he used encircled my senses.

Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, I’d stopped fighting my attraction to him. It would probably be a mistake. Unintentionally or not, the chances that we would last long term were probably slim. He was destined for stardom, going places outside my comprehension. I would remain here, trying to scrape by until I could finish school and get a job that would support Mom and I.

Understanding our different destinies didn’t make me pull away, though. Maybe it was the familiarity of being childhood friends or the way we both opened up during the car ride today, but being with him felt comfortable—natural. Whatever the reason, I’d decided he was worth the risk. The fact that I was physically attracted to him was icing on the cake. It was a small reminder of the feelings that had just begun to spring up when we were twelve. Of course, the attraction now was a far cry from the preteen attraction I had felt for him then. My desires now were very much in the adult capacity.

The warmth inside the building was soothing after walking from the car outside. I felt mildly disappointed when Dalton dropped his arm from my shoulders, until he reached for my hand. As we strolled along, I became hyperaware of how something as innocent as handholding could become somewhat erotic while sipping wine together. Dalton slid his thumb across the top of my hand in slow methodical strokes before gently caressing my pulse point. The hairs on the back of my neck felt as if they were standing on end. Each sweep of his thumb was a sensual dance with my sensitive skin, making it tingle.