He Calls Me Lu

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

“You were flirting with him!” Brenden yelled.

“I was not flirting! I was thanking him for holding the damn door and you know it!” Granted, the boy holding the door for me was really dang sexy. But still. I have a boyfriend.

“You were flirting!” He was not going to let this go. I stomped into the bathroom of our hotel room and slammed the door. I look a long, hot shower to calm myself down. Usually, I would run. But in order to run, I would have to change my clothes. And in order to do that, I would have to get to my suitcase—out where Brenden was.

After my shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and went out to get dressed. “I’m sorry. I love you, Lu. I know you weren’t flirting. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Ambushed.

“Brenden, you’re gonna say that every single time you flip out. And you’re gonna flip out every single time a boy talks to me. And I don’t wanna deal with it,” I said, searching through my suitcase. I grabbed some underwear, a bra, and a skimpy, silky nightie. I walked back into the bathroom to dress.

“Lu?” he asked through the door. “You—you aren’t breaking up with me, are you?” He sounded like he was going to cry. I walked out and hugged him.

“No,” I said. “I love you. Just, don’t give me that jealousy shit. I don’t wanna deal with it.” He nodded and leaned down to kiss me.

“I love you, Courtney. Forever.” I walked back into the bathroom to blow-dry my hair. When I came to bed, he was lying on top of the covers in his boxers sleeping. I curled up next to him and felt his arm wrap around me.

I woke up the next morning with the sun shining in through the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. “Fuck.” I picked up my pillow and placed it over my face.

“What?” Brenden asked. I must have woke him up with my swear.

“The sun. It’s bright,” I replied. He got up out of bed and closed the curtains. I removed the pillow from my face and tried to get back to sleep. The sound of the shower running made me wide awake. “Damn it.” I rolled out of bed and looked at the clock. Seven thirty. What the heck?

I picked up my phone and checked the date. It was June fifth. The day of our senior pictures. What was I going to wear? We hadn’t shopped yet. Crap. I went into the bathroom and Brenden poked his head out of the curtain. “Need something?” he asked.

“Our senior pictures are today and I have nothing to wear. We need to shop before two. That’s when they are. And we’re getting them done out on the beach in front of this hotel,” I said, pacing the room.

“We can go after breakfast. Stop worrying. Just let me finish up in here and we’ll go downstairs to find something to eat.” I nodded, kissed him, and went back to my suitcase to get dressed. Dark blue dress shorts—really short shorts—and a white spaghetti-strap top that flowed out at the bottom with dark blue wedge heels. Eyeliner, mascara, lip gloss. Throwing my hair in a messy bun with a headband, I searched Brenden’s clothes to find him something to wear. Plaid shorts and a dark blue polo to match with his ragged, tan cloth flip flops.

“Let’s go, babe,” I said, waiting for him to dress. He picked up his shirt and walked out the door, putting it on as we walked to the elevator. Orange juice and pancakes for breakfast in our hotel. We had rented a red convertible mustang, which we drove to the mall.

At one o’clock, Brenden and I were sitting by the hotel pool waiting for the photographer to arrive. I had bought a Hawaiian dress, a dark blue dress that matched what Brenden was wearing—the same clothes as this morning, and a new bathing suit—lime green and hot pink paint splatters on a white string halter. Brenden bought swimming trunks to match my new bathing suit—lime green with white and hot pink Hawaiian flowers, a Hawaiian shirt that matched my dress, and new off-white khakis. We matched perfectly.

The photographer showed up at ten of two and set up his equipment on the beach. He had yellow caution tape to keep other people out of the picture and a moving truck full of stuff. He had chairs and umbrellas and surfboards—anything you could think of. I started in my dark blue dress with the wedge heels from this morning. The man had me pose in front of the ocean, with the umbrella, with the surfboard, and with Brenden. Brenden’s arms were wrapped around my waist like we were going to prom and the ocean was our background.

The Hawaiian outfit led to a pose with a baby palm tree; individual and with Brenden—kissing. When we were dressed in our swimming attire, we got pictures taken in the water. My favorite was on the surfboard.

“Luey-Poop, come over here,” Brenden said from his place on the bed. I picked up my laptop from off the table and sat next to him. I was uploading our senior pictures to MySpace.

“What one is your favorite?” I asked him. He pointed to the one of me on the surfboard. “No way! That’s my favorite, too. What about for your picture?” He pointed to a picture of him sitting on the beach in his dark blue outfit. He was wearing sunglasses. It was cute.

Brenden pulled my laptop away from me and kissed me passionately on the lips. His hands were cupping my face and my hands were resting on his chest. He moved one of his hands to my back and the other down to my waist. I pulled back and he planted kisses all down my neck. I picked my laptop back up and put it on the bedside table, out of the way. I pulled his mouth back up to mine and he rolled over so he was lying on top of me. His hands gripped my torso just below my breasts.

“Let’s do it, baby,” I whispered in his ear as he kissed his way down my neck. His head shot up, colliding with mine.

“Really?” he asked. I nodded. “Are you sure?” I smiled at him, pulling him back down to kiss him. He pulled away. “You promise?” I nodded again. He smiled and kissed me hard on the lips, sliding my nightie up with his thumbs as his hands rode the contours of my body.

Brenden woke me up by kissing my forehead. His arms were wrapped around me and I was snuggled into his chest. I opened my eyes and smiled at him. He kissed me, on the lips this time. “How do you feel?” he asked, propping his head up on his arm.

“I’m tired,” I said, closing my eyes. “And a little sore, but I suppose that’s to be expected.” I kissed his chest, as that was level with my mouth, and pulled the covers up to my chin.

“You don’t regret having sex, do you?” His eyes were wide open with concern. I opened my eyes and sat up, the blankets dropping to reveal my boobs. I leaned over and kissed him. “Should I take that as a ‘no’?” he asked.

“I don’t regret anything. You were good,” I said. “But next time, don’t bash your head off mine.”

“When did I do that?” Of course he didn’t notice.

“When I told you I wanted to have sex, your head shot up and hit mine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” he said, kissing my head all over. I laughed and pushed him off.

“I’m gonna shower.” I got up out of bed and made a point to shake my butt as I walked to the bathroom. When I got to the door, I turned towards him and winked. His mouth dropped open and he ran in after me.