Page 60 of Flock
“How did you get access to this place?”
“A buddy’s parents own it. But it’s all ours tonight.”
“This is incredible,” I look around as I follow him down a line of trees, and he stops when we’re far enough down that our cars are impossible to see.
“Good apples, but I’ve got the goods here.” He lifts up a plastic bag.
I eye the lid of the container which reads The Pitt Stop. “From your parents’ restaurant?”
“Yeah, it’s lukewarm, but it’ll still be good. Let’s park here.” I toss out the blanket and begin spreading it out. “I’ll take you there on our next day off.”
“Promise?”
He pulls the light toward his face. “Scout’s honor.”
I roll my eyes. “You were never a Scout.”
He chuckles. “What makes you say that?”
“Maybe because of your issue with authority. I can see you arguing with your troop leader about rules and principles you refuse to abide by because they were created by self-righteous assholes.”
He sets the lantern on the blanket and pulls me to him, kissing me soundly. “You’re getting to know me pretty well.”
“I am.”
We take our seat on what I now consider my lucky blanket before he carefully unpacks a small feast. Aside from our one fight, it’s been almost idyllic with him. At times, I try to imagine life in Triple Falls without him, and can’t stomach what it would be like if dinners with Roman and shifts at the plant were all I had to look forward to.
He’s not just a distraction with a nice penis—although, his penis is incredible. Emotion swells in my chest as I study his profile in the soft glow of the fake camp light. Whatever reservations I have, I want to let them go. But I still have lingering doubts I’ve kept to myself to keep the peace. Yet one question gnaws at me daily, and if I want to give myself over to him fully, I need an answer.
“Sean?”
“Yeah?” Distracted with his task, he kneels on the blanket, opening the first container. The crickets sing loudly around us and I take in the scene, the need to ask growing in this setting, the sounds around us; a romance addict’s fantasy. I’ve had so many firsts with Sean—at twenty-five, adventurous as he is—I’m sure I would be hard-pressed to give him one of his own. And that’s some of where my hesitance lies, with the question I don’t want to ask because I know how it will sound. I slip off my shoes and socks and run my feet in the cool grass, deciding it’s best left alone for the moment.
“Cecelia.”
“Yeah?”
“You had a question?”
“I forgot it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“You don’t want me to ask it.”
He looks at me expectantly. “All right, now I have to know.”
“How did Dominic know about the waterfall?”
He exhales, putting his hands on his knees, before peering up at me with guilty eyes. “Your real question is, how many girls have I taken there, right?”
“Is that, like, the place you take all women?”
He shakes his head slowly. “It’s a place I love, that I will often frequent with any company. It’s kind of slim pickings around here at times, like there are only a few restaurants in town worth a shit. This is a small town. If you stay in one place long enough, you’re bound to have repeats.”
“Repeats,” I parrot, sipping my iced tea.
He eyes me warily. “Shit, bad choice of words. Look,” he moves to sit and draws up his knees, his toned forearms resting on them. “No, you aren’t the first or second girl I’ve taken there.”
