The Sound of Us Read Free Page B

asks, bemused.
    “Six months,” I say before I realize how spot-on I am. Six-months to the date, almost, and only seven months since Dad…
    He must read the crumbling look on my face. “Don’t think,” he whispers against my lips.
    So I don’t.
    I reach up on my tiptoes and crush my lips against his. He makes a surprised noise, but then he catches himself and fights back, aggressive and passionate, like he can’t get close enough. I dig my fingers into his chest as his lips migrate to my cheek, to my ear, to my neck, wanting to coat every bit of me.
    The heady scent of AXE aftershave fills my lungs as I breathe him in, caught up in the way he tastes—like beer and cigarette smoke—and the way his tongue runs across mine, and how teasingly he bites my bottom lip.
    Mom has her vacation starting tomorrow. But tonight…tonight is mine.
    He lifts me onto the counter, and presses his hand against my breast. My heart thunders in my ribcage faster than a Led Zeppelin drum solo. We’re breathing heavy, and my face is flushed, my lips throbbing. A lock of hair has fallen into his face, but I push it back behind his ear, looking down at him, our eyes connecting.
    There’s an understanding there, one that reminds me of the first night we met, but so much heavier, like we’re about to forge a path we can’t ever undo.
    “Do you want to?” It’s my voice, crazy enough, that asks the question.
    He nods. “Bedroom?”
    “Yeah—do you have a condom?”
    “I think so, but aren’t you on the pill?” He helps me off the counter.
    “What is this, an interrogation?”
    Chuckling, he kisses me one more time before asking me to hold on a moment. He has to clean off the bed. The second he’s out of the kitchen, I tear off my LINING IT UP? bar shirt, shoving it into my purse, and take the tissues out of my bra. Despite the wonders of push-up bras, they don’t do
wonders
for me. Carpenter’s Dream—
flat as a board.
    “Did you get lost?” Cas yells impatiently from his bedroom upstairs.
    “
Hold on
!” Looking around, I try to remember where the trashcan was—“Pantry!” I whisper to myself, throwing open the pantry door and shoving the tissues into the garbage
    “Baby!” he calls, almost whiny.
    “
Coming
!” I snap, looking at my reflection in one of the hanging frying pans over the inlet. I muss up my pink hair, hoping it looks bedhead sexy instead of barmaid greasy, and wipe away the smudges of eyeliner in the corners of my eyes.
    “One thousand and one…” he starts and I roll my eyes.
    “Fine!” Spinning toward the stairs, I take them two at a time. It’s not until I get to his bedroom door that I realize I still have my socks and Converses on. Is he the type to leave his socks on? Does he care, either way? Should I pee before…before whatever the hell’ll happen in there. It feels like I’m about to go into a black hole, where no one has gone before.
    There are manuals for everything—except how to lose your virginity. The closest things I can think of are classic rock songs. You can practically throw a dart blindfolded and hit a song about sex, but tonight isn’t “Love in an Elevator” or “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” I’m at a loss of what it is, and my heart is beating so hard it feels like it’ll rip out of my chest any minute.
    When I reach the top landing and turn into his room, my mind drops a blank. Cas is lying on his side, facing me, leg crooked up to display his born talent, in nothing but a…a tie.
    A purple tie.
    But I’m not looking at the tie. My throat constricts.
    “C’mon, baby,” he purrs, shifting back on his elbows, and all I want to do is jump on top of him. That’s not weird, is it? Oh who cares, I’m on birth control.
    And a virgin.
    He knows that, right?
    I can’t remember whether or not I ever told him I’ve never actually done the nasty with another guy—or girl, if I swung that way—but I can’t really stop thinking about that
tie
. That long, thick,