Chapter Sixteen
M itch
“You can just let me off here, Em.”
Mitch fiddled absently with the passenger door handle, nodding at some random street corner across from the Economics Building as Emma steered her sleek sedan straight down College Lane. “The fuck I will,” she grunted back at him, hands tight around the steering wheel as she glared over at him comically. “What’s gotten into you, anyway?”
Their eyes met as she paused at a stop sign, littered with racy bumper stickers and no less than three actual bullet holes. Mitch had shrunken down into his seat, feeling—and no doubt looking—a good four inches shorter in his now faded souvenir Flamingo Shores t-shirt and radiant beach tan. “Sorry, I just, your place is so nice and mine’s so crummy.”
Emma pulled away from the stop sign and drove onward, toward Academic Avenue where Mitch’s shady little off-campus apartment was located. “Baby,” she said in a comforting tone. “We’ve already agreed it’d be too hard to say goodbye if I go upstairs with you, so what’s to worry about?”
He sank even lower into his seat, if that was humanly possible. “I mean, even the parking lot is crummy.”
“Mitch!” Emma blurted, sounding surprised. Mitch couldn’t blame her. After all, he’d been so cheery that morning, tossing his new, vibrant colored beach clothes into his single roll bag and hoisting it over one shoulder as she waited by the car to drive him back to college. Suddenly, he was acting like a kid about to be dropped off at kindergarten.
“Well.” He even whined like one! “It is.”
Mich saw the sign for College Park and, despite wanting to be let out at the corner so his high-class hottie girlfriend wouldn’t see his deplorable living conditions, pointed toward it. “Take a right here,” he instructed woefully.
“Listen, Mitch,” Emma assured him. “It’s only temporary, right? One more semester and who knows? A summer job on Snack Street awaits?”
He glanced over as she pulled into the objectively shabby parking lot of his off-campus housing. “Why are you using all those question marks over there?”
She snorted. “You noticed that?”
“I’m sad and lonely, Em,” he confessed woefully, heart pounding—and not in the usual, about to have sex with the hottest cougar on the planet way. “Not deaf. So ... spill.”
Emma’s face was soft and nurturing, the way it had been on their way out of Flamingo Shores that morning. “I just, a lot can happen in a semester, Mitch.”
“A lot can happen over spring break, Em .”
There was an empty spot near the front entrance. Emma pulled into it and put the car in “park.” The engine idled. The radio played quietly, the same chill lo-fi BS that had been the soundtrack to their incessant lovemaking ever since the first night Mitch had drifted over, half-naked and already hard. Hard for her. As he had been every night, and twice each day, over spring break.
“A lot did happen,” she reminded him, turning in her seat to face him as the rich leather of the driver’s seat creaked gently beneath her shifting weight. “And I’m grateful for it. And for you , Mitch. Your desperately in need of fresh pavement parking lot isn’t going to change that, okay?”
“Promise?”
“Only a hundred times already,” she whined as he unclipped his seat belt. “I’m yours, desperate and alone back in Flamingo Shores.”
“And I’m yours,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her senseless. He leaned back, licking his lips as if to remember her by. “Desperate and alone in my crummy little apartment until spring semester ends next month.”
“And then?”
“And then,” he reached for the door, swinging it open before giving her a frisky little wink. “You get your newest Snack Street employee for ten whole weeks.”
She squealed and hooted and golf clapped, making Mitch blush as he unfolded himself from the passenger street in record time, reaching behind the seat to drag out his roll bag before swinging the door gently shut behind him. She rolled down the driver’s side window as he shambled toward her, homesickness flooding his very soul with every fresh step.
“You sure about that?” she asked uncertainly, leaning her elbow on the open window.
“About working with you all day and railing you all night?” he teased, admiring the fresh shade of blush on her sexy little face. “Oh, yeah, babe. Can’t wait!”
“No, I mean, it’s hard work, Mitch.”
“I know, Em,” he insisted. “I saw how tired you were those few nights you worked while I was staying at your place over spring break.”
She grinned, blushing some more. “Saw how tired I was and still found time to seduce me before I could even yank off my work shirt.”
“What can I say?” he teased, already stirring in his pants as he stood on the curb peering down at her. “I guess the smell of peanut butter just ... does something to me.”
She nodded, no longer blushing. “I should have sent you home with a jar,” she murmured distractedly. “Give you something to remember me by.”
“You already did that this morning, remember?” he teased, the taste of her liquor still fresh on his tongue, to say nothing of the sound of her multiple orgasms still ringing through his ears. “As long as I don’t take a shower, I’ll have plenty to remember you by.”
“Gross.”
They snorted, Mitch rushing forward to kiss her unexpectedly. “Hey,” she scolded toothlessly, wagging a playful finger as he stood back onto the curb. “We promised no kissing goodbye, remember?”
“Sorry,” he lied, not even close to feeling sorry. Not even a little. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“That’s why we promised, remember.” She gazed down at her lap. “I’m still sore from this morning.”
“What about last night?” he snickered, before correcting himself. “Or wait, does 3:00 AM count as this morning?”
She sighed, a wistful sound that made him sad all over again. “It’s probably good you’ll be three hours away, College Boy.”
“Yeah, what’s good about?”
“My poor kitten needs a rest after this week.”
They chuckled some more, but the engine was still idling and, after their slight, uh ... delay while erotically contorted atop the living room couch that morning, they’d already gotten a late start. The last thing Mitch wanted was for Emma to have to drive home alone after dark. It was bad enough she was driving home alone at all.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” It was a throwaway line and they both knew it. Emma straightened up in her seat. Mitch recognized it as her driving position. He nodded, tearing off the bandage.
“You sure you don’t me to come up?” she asked, hand already on the gear shaft to slide it smoothly into “reverse.”
“Positive,” he lied. He wanted nothing more than for Emma to come up, move in and stay forever. But her future lay three hours due south, back in Flamingo Shores. And, he hoped, so did his. That is, as soon as this damn semester ended. Suddenly, one stupid month had never seemed so long!
“Hurry back to me,” she croaked, nodding as he fidgeted from one foot to the other on the curb.
He nodded in reply. “If I could make time go any faster, I would. You know that, right?”
Emma’s smile was forced, to match the tight, almost defensive look in her deep brown eyes. She nodded just the same. “That’s what these next few weeks are about, right, babe? Seeing if the magic’s still there after your last exam.”
“I know that.”
“So why are you mad then?”
“I’m not mad,” he insisted. “I’m sad. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sad, honestly. About anyone or anything, ever.”
“It’s only a few weeks,” she insisted, voice cracking. “Right?”
“If you say so.” He was glowering. Being dramatic. Infantile. Juvenile. And they both knew it.
“We talked about this, remember?”
“Yeah,” he snorted. “Naked. In bed. I would have said anything to have you naked and in bed.”
They chuckled again. “You’ll have me, babe. As many times as you want. Over and over again. In all the ways you didn’t this trip. And I’ll have you, all to myself, just ... come back to me, okay?”
He nodded, knowing it was her way. Her way of saying goodbye, once and for all. The way he should have done as soon as he got out of the car. He took a step back, waving politely. That was his way. His way of saying goodbye.
Once and for all...
“Text me when you land,” he teased, watching as she slid the gear shaft back into “reverse” at last. “And every rest stop in between, okay?”
“Just try and stop me,” she blubbered, the tears falling at last. “But first I’m going to pull around the corner and have a good cry so I can see the road. Eventually.”
He took a step off the curb, only half-joking as he croaked through his own tears, “Want me to come with you? Hold your hand? Offer you tissues until they all run out?”
She finally snorted, backing out as if afraid he might actually go through with his offer. Instead he merely waved, watching her wave back all while navigating the crumbling parking lot of his crumbling apartment complex. He waved until she’d turned into light traffic, then waved some more, until her brake lights disappeared and he was left standing there, a bag full of souvenirs hanging from one stooped shoulder, but none as valuable as the broken heart he felt all the way upstairs.
The one he vowed to heal as soon as he could get back to Flamingo Shores and start spring break all over again. This time, permanently.