"And MIT doesn't have Shane," her mother said dryly. "Yes, I know. Believe me, I know. When I met your father I would have done anything to stay with him. Everyone thought I was crazy, too. But, sweetie, you have to promise me that you'll call me every day."
"Mom! Every day? How many minutes do you think I have on this cell phone?"
"Well, then, at least every few days. And absolutely once a week, no matter what. If I don't hear from you--"
"I know, you'll send the National Guard."
"That's my girl," her mom said, and made kissy noises. "I love you, honey. Stay safe."
"You, too," Claire said. "I love you both very much."
She hung up and sat there in the sun for a little while longer, thinking. She felt alone in a way that she hadn't before; although she'd worried about her parents, felt that they were a burden to her here, there had been something weirdly comforting about knowing they were only across town. That she wasn't on her own, not really.
She wondered if this was what it felt like to really, truly grow up.
Being alone.
Eventually, that feeling faded, mostly because the day felt wonderful sitting outside--it was deliciously warm in the sun. She thought about dragging out a lounge chair and reading in the glow, but that seemed like a lot of work. Instead, she leaned back against a pillar on the porch, closed her eyes, and took a nap.
When she woke up, she smelled tacos. Really smelled them, as if she was sleeping in a taco store. She came awake, stomach rumbling, and opened her eyes to see a plate being held right under her nose.
When she reached for it, Shane snatched it back. "Nuh-uh. Mine."
"Share!" she demanded.
"Man, you are one grabby girlfriend."
She grinned. It always made her feel so fiercely warm inside to hear him say that--the girlfriend part, not the grabby part. "If you love me, you'll give me a taco."
"Seriously? That all you got? What about you'll do sexy, illegal things to me for a taco?"
"Not for a taco," she said. "I'm not cheap."
"They're brisket tacos."
"Now you're talking."
He held the plate out, and she took one. He took another, sank down next to her on the steps, and they munched in silence, enjoying the day. He'd brought cold Cokes, too. She popped the top on hers and tried to sneak a second taco--he'd brought six, after all. She managed, but just barely. When she went for the third one, Shane put down the plate and tackled her to the grass, and she used their momentum to keep them rolling until she came out on top. He didn't fight, exactly. He looked surprised, but pleased. "Well," he said. "That's new. Now what, cowgirl?"
"Now I get the rest of your tacos," she said, and leaned forward to brush her lips teasingly against his. "And maybe your Coke. And maybe something else."
"What else? You've cleaned me out. I don't have dessert," he murmured. The words were coming from somewhere deep in his throat, a kind of growling purr that made her feel nuclear hot inside. "Unless you were thinking--"
"I don't know; what am I thinking?" She smiled slowly at the look in his eyes, and felt absolutely wicked. "Any guesses?"
"I think I just became psychic," he said. "Holy crap."
"Romantic."
"You want romantic? Date--"
She put two fingers on his lips, hushed him, and then kissed him, long and warm, with tongue. When she was finished, she let him breathe. "You were saying?"
"Not a damn thing," he said, and used both hands to hold her hair back from her face. "How'd you get to be so good at this?"
"I had a good teacher."
"Better not have been Myrnin or I'll have to kick his predatory ass."
"I mean you, dummy."
"Oh." He kissed her back, and somehow they rolled over again, and this time she was on the bottom. It could have felt like suffocation, but he was good at this. It just felt . . . sexy. "How am I doing now?"
"I'm learning all the time."
"Well, you're a scholar." He trailed a finger down her neck, into the open part of her shirt, to where the first button held it closed. It felt like every nerve in her body paid attention to that, to the pressure, the slow speed at which his finger moved, the tug of fabric where he stopped. "Oh, damn, sorry." The button slipped out of the hole. "You're undone."
She looked down. The top of her cream-colored bra was showing, but only the top. It wasn't X-rated yet. It wasn't even PG, except that they were outside, and anybody could walk by and see them. Somehow it didn't feel like that, though. Here, with him, she felt like there was nothing else in the whole world except the two of them.
"Um, Claire?" Shane said. His finger had moved down to touch the skin right at the top of her bra. "Maybe we should finish our tacos inside."
"What about--"
"Eve and Michael are at work. I go in at two."
Oh. "That might be a good idea, then."
He stood up and helped her rise, and they gathered up the plate and Cokes and went inside.
Best. Lunch. Ever.
Claire spent the rest of the afternoon humming around, ridiculously happy; when Eve came home and saw her, she put down her coffin-shaped purse and said, "You look mussed. If I wasn't a total lady, I'd guess that you and Shane--"
"Excuse me? You're a lady?"
"I bought a title on the Internet. I own one square inch of Scotland, you know. And you're changing the subject." Eve gave her a sharp grin and grabbed her hand. "Give, already. Deets."