Sisters: Butterflies at Graduation [book two]

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

I sit on Zac's bed; his pillows are propped up behind my back as I scroll through my Twitter feed. Zac sits at his desk, finishing off his homework. Despite his arched back and his pen scrawling across the page, I say, "Zac," and wait for him to swivel on his chair to face me.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what college you want to go to?"

His gaze drops to the floor. "I have a few in mind," he says, "But I haven't visited any though."

"Which ones?"

"Miami University, Ohio State."

I straighten my back, lock my phone and toss it onto the bed beside me. "Do you know what you want to do when you're older?"

Zac picks up his pen and doodles in the corner of his exercise book. "A teacher, maybe," he says, "In Geography or History."

I raise my eyebrows. "You haven't mentioned anything about teaching."

Zac shrugs.

"Why not baking?" I say.

Zac stands up and climbs onto the bed beside me. He throws an around my shoulders. "I don't think so," he says, holding my hand. "What do you want to be?"

I can't concentrate properly with our hands intertwined and our hips touching. I stare into his browns eyes. I open my mouth to admit that I have absolutely no clue when I realise. "Where are your glasses?" I say, frowning.

The corners of Zac's lips curl up into a small smile. "I'm wearing contacts," he says.

"Oh," I say. "I kind of liked them."

"It's for the best," he says, and leans down and kisses me. A tingle shoots down my spine and I smile. "They don't get in the way every-time we kiss."

My insides turn to mush. I splutter something that vaguely sounds like a giggle and Zac kisses me again. I know that if he carries on kissing me, I'll forget what we were talking about in the first place. I part a few inches from him and focus on the buttons of his shirt. "Aren't you worried about the future?" I say, and Zac shakes his head. "Why not?"

"Because I know it'll be okay," he says.

"How do you know?"

"Because it's never too late to change it." We kiss again. Maybe it's the conversation we just had, maybe it's all in my head, but it feels different, despite the hundreds of times we've kissed this summer. Since school broke up in June, we were always out, either at the bakery, at the mall or outside with friends. Now, lying in his bedroom with both of his parents out, I'm not wondering whether anyone's watching or going to disturb us.

Zac's hands wrap around my waist. The hem of my t-shirt bunches at my belly button and his fingers press against my skin. I run my fingers through his hair and our lips part for a few seconds as Zac straddles my hips. His tongue runs along my bottom lip and I open my mouth.

Zac's cell phone buzzes and he ignores it. It buzzes again and a few minutes later, it rings. Zac looks over at his desk, where an optimistic default ringtone of the iPhone plays in a continuous loop. He sighs and climbs off the bed.

"Hey Mom," he says, his back to me. "Can't it wait?"

There's a pause.

"Ugh, fine, we'll go now." Another pause. "'Kay bye," he says and he hangs up.

"What?" I say, sitting up.

He shoves his cell phone in his back pocket and sighs. "Mom's run out of milk and eggs," he says. "Apparently she's just got an order for three hundred cupcakes."