18. Dottie
18
DOTTIE
After our kiss on the trail, we spend the rest of the hike talking, walking hand in hand. Now that we've gotten past the weirdness of having seen each other again and leaned into the physical chemistry bubbling between us, it's like we can finally loop back and catch each other up on our lives over the years. He mostly listens as I babble on and on about moving to California, the shoebox apartment Keeks and I shared in The Valley, and how I barely scraped by and got my GED while Kira killed it at USC.
"Thank god I've got this pretty face to fall back on, because my brain is useless." I say as we stroll past another million-foot-tall oak tree. Stephen stops walking, so abruptly it almost knocks me off my feet.
"Don't say that. Don't ever fucking say that. You're stunningly beautiful, yes. You always have been, but you're so much more than that. You're so smart, Dorothea. You're well-read and artistic and kind. You're witty and quick and so funny. Just because you struggled a bit in school doesn't mean your brain is useless. Your brain is my favorite part about you."
His tone is sharp, but his touch is light as he pushes a stray lock of hair out of my face and behind my ear. It takes my breath away. I only nod my head like a bobblehead as he stares past my eyes and into my soul. My heart skips several beats, and he starts to walk again, leading me along by the hand like his words didn't just flip my worldview upside down.
After that interaction, I hastily change the subject to focus on him. He tells me about his college experience, living at home and commuting to the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. I knew he'd planned on studying Construction Project Management, but I had no idea that he'd also studied urban planning and sociology. He says that if his dad ever finally retires and hands over Hudson Family Construction, he wants to shift the focus away from development and more towards revitalization. Apparently, Stephen has a real philanthropic steak and wants to provide affordable housing and accommodations in underserved areas.
When I say that I’m surprised to hear that Mr. Hudson hadn't retired yet–he'd been saying he was looking forward to his lazy days for as long as I could remember–Stephen just shrugs.
He drops me off with a very chaste kiss on the McKenna's doorstep and a promise to see me again in a few days when the family business shuts down for the holidays. Since then, we've texted, some bordering on flirty, but mostly just keeping up with one another while we go about our lives. I've spent most of my time up here on McKenna Mountain. If you'd asked me a month ago, I would've said I'm sequestering to avoid Stephen, but now, I just have no desire to hang out in town with all the judgy glances and whispers behind hands.
Besides, I'd much rather be up here, enjoying the sauna, the holiday movies, and free cocktails. Even if half the town didn't hate me for leaving and breaking Stephen's heart, I prefer McKenna Mountain.
I'm lying in bed on my stomach with my iPad and my phone propped up on the pillows. I have Georgie on FaceTime on the other screen, and the two of us are scrolling through a bunch of websites, scouring venues for her wedding.
"Would it be totally lame to just do it outside? Maybe out in a park on the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge in the background?" she asks as she sips her white wine. I slam my iPad down and try to contain my squeal.
"Lame? Are you kidding me? It's perfect! Oh my god, Georgie! I don't know why I didn't think of that. An intimate ceremony at sunset in The Presidio. You in a white dress, James in a tux, the sky all orange and gold, pink flowers everywhere! His sisters, The Pussy Posse, and you two." I gush, and she smiles.
"And a plus one for you?" she asks with a smirk. Before I have a chance to refute her, my phone buzzes with a text.
"Oh my god you summoned him, G. He just texted."
James calls from off screen. "At eleven thirty? That's a booty call. You better hang up sweet girl, Dottie's gonna go get her freak on." I throw up a middle finger.
"James, your age is showing. No one says booty call anymore," I say, and they laugh. He pokes his head into view.
"Notice how you fought my choice of words but not the intention behind the message? Boo-tay," he says, accentuating the word with a pop of his lips.
"Shut up, James. Georgie, I'll call you tomorrow."
She blows a kiss to me as I end the call and quickly open up my text messages.
Stephen
Truth or dare, Dorothea?
Truth
Stephen
Ehhhhh. Try again.
“Ehhhhh”? What are you doing, singing a Rihanna song? What does ehhhhh mean?
Stephen
It’s a buzzer sound, duh. As in EHHHHHHH wrong answer.
Since when did truth or dare have right and wrong answers? You gave me two options, and I picked one. I don’t deserve a buzzer sounding off in my ear.
Stephen
Stubborn woman. If I had said dare or dare, you would have fought me on that to. I have something very specific that I want to dare you to do, so please, for the sake of my sanity, just choose dare this time. Truth or dare, Dorothea?
Fine. Dare.
Stephen
Good girl.
Go to the window.
I sit up in bed, practically giving myself a head rush with the force of my exertion. I throw the blankets off me and creep over to the window, peeking through the side of it like a voyeur about to get caught. Stephen is there in the backyard, leaning against an oak tree. The soft light from the patio casts a low, golden glow on his face, just enough to make out his features. I crack the window, and he looks up, smiling wide.
"What are you doing out there?" I whisper shout. He holds up his phone, then brings it to his ear. My phone buzzes in my hand.
"Stephen," I say, still whispering.
"I'm busting you out for a midnight rendezvous. Put some pants on and get out here. "
I look down to my legs, bare underneath my long sleep shirt. The windowsill hits me at waist height, so I know he can't see them or my fuzzy socks from all the way down there.
"Why do you assume I don't have pants on?" I ask. Even from up here, I can see him roll his eyes like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.
"Because you can't sleep when you're wearing pants. Unless something has fundamentally changed about who you are as a person in the last nine years, I know that you have no pants on and that the shirt you're wearing is just barely covering your ass. Even when we were kids and you used to sneak into my room at night, your pants always ended up on my floor."
"How do you even remember that?" I ask
"Being unable to sleep because the object of all your fourteen-year-old desires is pantsless in your bed is not something a man forgets. The wet dreams you caused were a formative experience for me. Now get some pants on your cute ass and get down here before you wake up Pops and IronDad." He hangs up the phone before I have a chance to answer, and then makes a 'let's get it rolling' motion with his hands.
I slip into a pair of cotton leggings, grab a pair of Ugg boots, and pad my way downstairs and out the back door as quietly as I can. On the patio, I put on my boots and then cross the lawn to the tree where Stephen is waiting for me.
"You know we're adults now, right? I don't have to sneak out of the house to see you at night," I say as he reaches out and pulls me in by my waist. I loop my arms around his neck as he leans down and brushes a kiss against my cheek.
"I know, but sneaking out is our thing. It makes everything feel a bit naughtier, don't you think?" His hot breath skates against my ear, and my knees knock together.
"I think the word 'naughty' is what makes things feel naughtier," I tease. He nips at my earlobe.
"Mmm, say 'naughty' again."
I pull back and take his face in my hands. The scruff from his beard tickles my palms.
"Naughty," I mouth, exaggerating the movement of my lips and then dragging my tongue over them. He groans, then reaches down and palms my upper thighs, right under my ass. Before I even have time to yelp, I'm up and over his shoulder in a fireman carry.
"Stephen!" I giggle as he starts to cross the lawn.
"Hush. I have plans for you tonight, and those plans are not happening on the McKenna's lawn." He swats my ass, and the sound echoes through the quiet night. The sting makes me gasp, and a wave of arousal washes over me. My head goes dizzy, and I can feel the tingling sensations building between my thighs.
I don't know what his plans are, but I hope for my libido's sake they have something to do with the mess he's creating in my panties.
"Where are you taking me?" I ask as he hoists me off his shoulder and into the cab of his truck. He gives me a 'duhh' look as he fusses with the seatbelt, buckling me in again. This princess treatment is dangerous; I could certainly get used to it.
"I just busted you out of bed in the middle of the night. You know there's only one place in town I would be taking you right now."