''Tell me how it feels,'' he whispers.
"Good," I gasp, my entire body trembling. Deeper. Harder. Perfect -- like we've been doing this for years.
His hand finds my jaw, fingers firm as he tilts my head up, making me look at him. And that's it.
Wav...
"Fox, do you think there are aliens? I do. Let's send them a letter. What should we say?"
"Dear Aliens, please visit, we're bored. We have candy and we hide under the slide during recess."
"And we have ring pops."
"And board games. They'll like us."
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ｃｈｒｉｓ
I can't stop bouncing my knee.
Cam's sitting cross-legged on the couch, flipping through another stack of Noah's papers. He's behind, big legs surrounding her, leaning back into the couch cushions. He's throwing the black hood of her sweater over her eyes every few seconds as she fights him off, trying to read.
Then the knock on the door comes, and my heart leaps.
I'm squealing before I even realize it, racing toward the door like a kid on Christmas morning. The door swings open, and there she is.
"I come bearing gifts!" Whitney declares with a grin, pulling out a bottle of wine from her white purse like a magical goddess.
She steps inside wearing a flowy cream dress draping to the floor, cinched at the waist with a thin braided belt. It has bell sleeves that flutter when she lifts the wine. "I got rosé because I didn't know if we were in a red mood or white."
I turn around with a smile. "Cam and Noah, this is Whitney!"
Noah lifts a hand and nods. "Nice to meet you, Whitney."
Whit's long, wavy hair spills down her back, this honey-brown cascade that she tucks behind her ear with a smile. "Of course. Thanks for having me over. I've been looking forward to this." Her skin's all warm, golden-brown freckles scattered across her cheeks, her nose, and her chest like little specks of sunlight.
Cam pushes off the couch, her long legs eating up the space in a few strides. "I recognize you."
Whitney grins. "You're Camila, girlfriend to Noah, dog owner to Charlie. You came by Hallowed Grounds once. Remember?"
Cam claps her hands together, pointing at Whitney. "Yes! That was me. Us, I mean." She waves toward Charlie, who's now standing in the kitchen, staring at Whitney like he's trying to figure out something.
Whitney shoves the wine into my hands and crouches down, holding out her tattooed hand toward Charlie, hair spilling over her shoulders. Charlie inches closer, his nose twitching. He sniffs Whitney's hand before nudging it with his wet nose.
I point to her, nodding. "Dog and/or wolf whisperer."
Whitney cringes. "Don't remind me." She stands, then turns her attention to Noah, who's still on the couch. "You've got to come back for coffee sometime. I need better tips."
