In Plain Sight – Part 4
In Plain Sight – Part 4
by
Caliboy1991
There was something magical as the wind tore through Asher’s hair when both wheels of the mountain bike went airborne. He’d just crested a small rise when the trail plunged down a steep hill. The absorbers on the bike’s forks took most of the shock when the back wheel slammed into the path, followed a heartbeat later by the front. When Asher finally managed to stop, he craned his neck around and saw Tate sitting on her bike, shaking her head.
“Dude, that was sick!”
The teenager waved, “Come on, it’s easy!”
Tate edged her bike down the hill, riding her brakes until she coasted to a stop next to him. “Easy? That was crazy.”
Asher’s heart still thundered in his chest, “But fun. I’ll have to remember this trail.”
A pensiveness crossed Tate’s features, “Um, it’s after five, Ash. I need to get on home before Mom.”
With that, Asher let the girl lead out, and he followed behind, simply enjoying the pull of his muscles as he pedaled after her. A summer’s worth of unstructured living had never seemed more fun now that he had a bike.
They came off the trails behind the playground. There were a couple of smaller kids playing on the wooden platform under the watchful gaze of a young woman. She gave both bikes a glare as Asher and Tate rode close to the playground equipment. They crossed onto one of the parking lots and turned a corner. Tate slammed on her brake. Asher stopped, too. A car had just pulled up next to the building, and a woman wearing a business suit stepped out of an older model BMW.
“Ah, shit, she beat me home,” Tate muttered as she started pedaling slowly toward the same apartment building.
Asher couldn’t stand the thought of the girl facing her mom alone. He caught up with her and flashed a bright smile her way. “It’ll be okay.”
When they reached the building, the woman glared at the girl, “You’ve got one fucking job, Tatum. To be home when I get home.”
Hanging her head, Tatum muttered, “Sorry, Mom.”
The luxury car, expensive clothes, even the woman’s sophisticated hairdo, all of it reeked of money. But Tate wore old clothes, used a borrowed bike, and ate cheap food. The girl’s life was pure second-hand hand-me-downs. While Asher didn’t know women like Tate’s mom, he’d certainly been used and abused at the hands of men just like her.
The woman was drawing in another breath when Asher interjected, “Thanks Tatum for showing me around. Being the new kid on the block, I’m sure glad you helped me figure out where stuff’s at.”
He turned his attention to the girl’s mom, “You’ve got a real nice kid, ma’am. I hope she’s not in trouble for helping me find my way around this afternoon.”
Before, there was always the risk spouting off bullshit would get you a beating. The syndicate knew how to control its human capital. Thankfully, enough time had passed, and now Asher didn’t feel the trepidation that would have come when he was younger. A look of confusion passed over the woman’s face as she mumbled, “Um, oh. I see.”
Her demeanor shifted, “Yeah. Tatum knows she’s supposed to help other people. I taught her it’s important to be a good seminarian.”
Asher’s eyes grew wide at the woman’s malapropism, although she didn’t miss a beat, “Yeah. I’m doing the best I can as a single mom, but it’s hard to raise a kid on your own these days.”
Asher wanted to lash out and punch Tate’s mom. Her self-importance dripped off her lips with unfailing sincerity.
Feeling queasy at the undistilled narcissism, Asher said, “Yes, ma’am. I’d better get going. It’s getting late, and my parents expect me home shortly.”
His eyes flickered to Tate, who was trying not to laugh at him. Then, as he swung his bike around, he said, “See you tomorrow, Tate.”
He hadn’t gone far when he heard the girl’s mom say, “Why can’t you be like that kid. He knows when he is supposed to be home. Get your ass upstairs. I need to get cleaned up. I’m meeting Robert in a bit.”
***
Asher closed the fridge. He really needed to go to the grocery store, but he didn’t know what to buy. The facility he’d stayed in had helped him finish high school, and the US Marshals Service had made sure he knew how to drive, but nobody had bothered teaching him how to prepare a menu or buy groceries. One thing he knew how to do was order pizza.
A few minutes later, the call made, he collapsed on the couch and turned on the TV. The Internet came with the apartment and the smart TV connected to a Netflix account he’d just set up. Flipping through the various genres, Asher was startled by a knock at the door. He glanced at the clock on the phone.
Damn, that was quick. Less than thirty minutes had passed.
When he opened the door, instead of a delivery driver, Tate smiled up at him. “Hey, Ash. Mom headed out on her date. Whatcha doing?”
“Hi, Kiddo,” Asher said as he opened the door. “Um, do you think your mom will be pissed that you came over here?”
Coming inside, Tate shook her head, “She’ll be out late. As long as I’m home by ten, not only will she not care, she won’t even know.”
Asher eyed the girl, still dressed in the same sarcastic oversized T-shirt. Something tickled him in the back of his mind warning him away from letting her stay. Still though, her winsome smile drew him in, and he said, “What’d you have in mind?”
Tate blinked her eyes, a brief flicker of confusion, as though she’d expected him to turn her away. “Um, what were you planning on doing?”
Asher nodded toward his TV, “Was looking for something on Netflix. You have any suggestions?”
She practically bounced over to his couch, “Have you seen Stranger Things? One of my friends said it was sick.”
He’d heard a couple of the support staff at the government facility talk about the series. “Sounds good to me. We can watch that.”
Before he could reclaim his spot, there was another knock at the door. After paying for the pizza, Asher set the box on the battered coffee table, “You eat yet?”
Tate said, “I was going to eat later.”
Fetching a couple of plates, Asher said, “Later’s now. Help yourself.”
The girl grabbed a slice as he started the first episode of Stranger Things. Between the eighteen-year-old and the almost-ten-year-old, the pizza disappeared faster than Will Byers in the show. At the end of the first episode, Tate said, “Oh, wow. That was intense.”
“Do you want to watch the next one?” Ash said, hoping the girl would say yes. He was hooked and wanted to find out what the second episode held.
Tate slid off the couch, “Yeah. Can you wait to start it? I gotta go to the bathroom,”
Asher dipped his head toward the short hallway separating the bathroom from his bedroom, “It’s over there.”
After Tate came out after a few minutes, she climbed back onto the couch and leaned her head against his shoulder. Her closeness sent a flutter of butterflies into his stomach as Asher hit the play button.
While most of his attention was on the show, part of Asher was acutely aware that a little girl who dressed like she was a little boy was leaning against him. More than that, at least part of him enjoyed the feel of her head against his shoulder. What he couldn’t figure out is whether the feeling in his stomach came from how much Tate looked like a cute boy or whether it was something innate in the girl. Despite being sexually abused, Asher had enjoyed moments with some of the other boys who were also trapped in the Syndicate’s stable. It had been in those moments he realized that even an emasculated boy could still enjoy a good cum, no matter that it was dry.
Thinking about sex eventually made the youth realize his penis was pushing against his shorts. Glancing down at Tate, the girl’s eyes were fixed on the screen. And that drew his attention back there too. The show was so good; it held his attention until the end of the second episode.
Part of Asher wanted to let the next episode play, but it was already nine in the evening. He didn’t want Tate’s mom finding out she’d spent a couple of hours with him when she expected her daughter to be at home.
“Let’s stop here. We can watch the rest of the season over the next couple of days.”
Tate’s eyes looked up at him, almost like brown puppy dog eyes, “Aww, Ash, it’s really good. One more episode?”
Thinking about how mean Tate’s mom seemed to be, he shook his head, “Tomorrow. Okay?”
Tate heaved an exaggerated sigh, “Fine. What are you doing tomorrow?”
Asher couldn’t repress a grin the girl’s theatrical exhalation. “I need to go to the grocery store. I don’t have much in here to eat. You got any advice?”
“Mom does the grocery shopping, but I know how to fix everything she buys. Let me see what you’ve got.”
With that, Tate slipped off the couch and padded into the kitchen. Cabinet doors opened and closed, then the light from the fridge spilled out, adding to the glow cast by the TV screen onto the ceiling of the living room.
“You weren’t kidding,” she said, “there’s nothing here. No wonder you ate at McDonald’s at lunch and ordered pizza for dinner. What do you like to eat?”
Before Asher could respond, she added, “Except pizza. Like real food.”
Laughing, Asher turned off the TV and joined her in the kitchen, “I thought pizza was real food.”
Tate shook her head and gave him a withering stare. “Only if you wanna be fat. Do you like spaghetti? What about stew? Sandwiches?”
Over the next few minutes, Tate wrote down a grocery list and slid it over to Asher, “You get this stuff, and at least you won’t starve, or worse, turn into a blimp.”
“Thanks.”
Tate shrugged, “Not like I have a choice. If you starve or become fat diabetic, then there’s nobody else to play with.
Her tone was so flat that Asher nearly missed the twinkle in her eye. In a voice equally dry, he said, “Can’t have that. What about after I get back maybe we can hang out. Maybe do something you like.”
Tate’s face brightened, “Sure, that sounds cool. Can I come over after lunch?”
Asher didn’t know what came over him, but he reached out and tousled the girl’s short hair, “Sure.”
The girl’s face had already been lit up. But it positively beamed at his hand on her head. Tate said, “Cool. I guess I better get home before Mom catches me out.”
She was halfway to the door when she stopped and spun around. She crossed back over to Asher and wrapped her arms around his waist, “I’m so glad you moved in here, and I’m really glad we met.”
Before Asher knew what to say, the girl turned and practically flew out the door into the night.
***
His stomach rumbling, Asher put the last of the groceries in the pantry. Then, almost as an afterthought, he retrieved a loaf of bread. He had all the fixings on the kitchen countertop for a sandwich when the doorbell rang.
With little doubt in his mind about who it could be, he called out, “The door’s open!”
A moment later, the front door creaked open. “It’s me, Tate. Can I come in?”
“Come on in,” Asher said as he tore the seal off a bag of sandwich meat.
Seeing what T-shirt Tate wore was becoming something to which he looked forward, although their budding friendship was only a few days old. Like the ones before, this one was oversized. It was yellow. Across the front were the words Don’t make me violate my parole.
Her green shorts barely stuck out below the bottom of the shirt, and she had a small backpack casually slung over one shoulder.
“I’m making a sandwich. You want one?”
Tate came around into the kitchen and sidled up next to Asher, “Only if there’s enough.”
Asher pulled out enough bread slices to make both of them a sandwich. As he made their lunch, he said, “What do you want to do this afternoon? Ride bikes? Play the PS Four?”
She shook her head, “The summer’s barely started, and, um, if you don’t know –“
Her voice trailed off as she flushed.
Curious, Asher said, “Don’t know what?”
Tate bit her lower lip before saying, “Um, how to swim. I want to teach you – if it’s okay.”
The few times he’d been to local family Y near the government facility had been embarrassing. Most of the other kids knew how to swim. He didn’t want to be embarrassed here, and the easiest way to avoid that was not to go swimming.
He opened his mouth to tell Tate no when she gazed up at him with her large, brown eyes. There was something in the way she looked at him that stopped the words from coming. To fill the void of silence, Asher finished the sandwiches and slid a plate over in front of the girl.
“You know, I don’t have a swimsuit.”
Tate shrugged, “You’ve got shorts, right? Just wear some shorts.”
“Okay. But if the pool is crowded, then forget it. I don’t want an audience.”
The girl squealed and wrapped her arms around Asher’s waist, “Awesome. It’s hardly ever crowded.”
They ate in silence, standing at the kitchen countertop. After swallowing the last bite, Asher said, “These cargo shorts won’t work. They’d be too heavy when they get wet. What about you? Wearing your T-shirt and shorts?”
Tate’s little backpack had ended up on the floor next to her. Now, she picked it up and said, “I wish. I’ve got a swimsuit in my backpack. Can I use your bathroom?”
In his bedroom, Asher found some shorts that came halfway down to his knees. They were new, some of the clothes Deputy US Marshal Brown had given him. The youth pulled his cargo shorts off and then slid the other shorts over his boxers. The boxers made his shorts poof out, and he stripped again, settling for just the shorts. Once he changed into them, he tossed his shirt aside and looked down at his body. He had what might charitably be called a farmer’s tan. His arms below his elbows were lightly tanned, as was his neck. His legs, from the knees down, were also tanned. The rest of him, well, he just hoped nobody would mistake him for a vampire.
He opened his bedroom door the same moment Tate opened the bathroom door. Asher stopped in his tracks. Tate wore a purple one-piece swimsuit. It was a couple of sizes too small. Asher’s eyes traveled over her entire body. The straps dug into her shoulders, and the stretchy material tautly covered her flat chest. Most revealing, though, was the way the swimsuit pulled snuggly between her legs. The girl’s privates seemed to be poured into the swimsuit.
Asher’s mouth went dry at the puffy outline of the girl’s slit. One of the security guards at the government facility had called the visible slit in a woman’s underwear a camel toe. Even now, he didn’t pretend to understand the reference.
He stammered, “Wow. You really are a girl!”
She stuck her tongue out, “Mom hasn’t bought me a new swimsuit in two years. This is too small. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d dress like you.”
Asher had been with several men who wore women’s clothing, but that hadn’t stopped them from paying the Syndicate’s exorbitant fee and plowing his ass. He’d even heard about girls who thought they were boys and girls who thought they were boys. Was Tate like that?
Curious, he asked, “What about dressing as a boy do you like?”
Tate bit her lower lip and stared up at him, almost as though searching for something. Then she shrugged, “I just do. Boys have more comfortable clothes, easier to play in. Girl clothes are too sissy.”
Asher had never given much thought to girls. In fact, Tate was the only girl he’d ever considered a friend. None of the girls in the government facility had been remotely interesting to him, most being just as messed up as him. He preferred hanging out with the other boys. Especially Peter. And a large part of Asher found the idea of Tate pretending to be a boy sort of sexy. How did she see herself?
“Do you wish you were a boy? I mean, dressing the way you normally do…”
Tate’s cheeks flushed as her eyes drifted downward. Asher felt a tiny thrill when he realized where her eyes stopped. “Are you asking if I wish I had a wiener instead of a, um, puss?”
Asher’s lips turned up at the girl’s description, “Yeah, I guess so.”
The scarlet in Tate’s cheeks spread down her neck as her eyes fell to the floor. “I don’t know. I’ve only seen a couple of wieners, and one of them was on Mrs. Jenkin’s grandson. He’s only three.”
Asher felt a pang of sympathy. Apart from porn, he’d never seen a girl naked. He felt a bit unsettled, realizing this nearly-ten-year-old girl had seen more of a boy than he had of a girl in all his eighteen years. Moreover, he noted Tate was willing to admit to seeing her neighbor’s grandson while revealing nothing of the other one she’d seen.
While part of him liked the idea of Tate as a boy, something inside him was drawn to the girl, just as she was. His eyes found the spot between her legs, and he wondered at the mystery that girls were to him. Then he was aware of Tate’s stare, and he ripped his eyes away from her “puss” and back to her face.
“What do you like about being a girl?”
Tate’s eyebrows knit together, and her nose scrunched up in thought. Then she said, “I don’t know. Boys aren’t supposed to hit girls. But Ron and Dwayne do. Teachers at my school treat the girls better than they do the boys. I guess if I acted like I was supposed to, they’d treat me the same as the other girls.”
She fell silent for a moment, clearly thinking about the question. “Girls have more power than boys in school. We get away with more. I heard Mom talking to Mrs. Jenkins once, and she said that all she needed to get onto easy street was a rich man. I guess that’s why she spends so much time with her boss outside of work. I think he’s rich.”
Asher arched his eyebrows, “No shit? Wow. Sleeping her way to the top?”
Tate giggled, “Yeah, sometimes, like on Friday nights, Mom doesn’t come home at all.”
The red on her face deepened as her mouth turned into a small O. “That’s what she meant.”
“Your mom?”
Flushing furiously, Tate said, “Mom said that women have power over men because they want what we have.”
He knew he should change the subject, but Asher couldn’t’ help himself, “And what’s that?”
A gasp of a giggle escaped Tate’s lips, even as she glanced down her front, “You know, um, the, uh, puss. They want to put their wieners in it.”
Asher felt heat on his face and a stirring within his shorts. Even though he enjoyed the feel of a boy’s penis in his hand, mouth, and butt, this talk made him feel funny in his stomach. He really needed to change the subject. Still, he persisted, “Why do you think that is?”
Tate glanced around, as though someone might hear, “Um, you can’t tell anyone, promise?”
“I promise.”
The girl said, “Back around Spring Break, Mom brought Hank, that’s her boss, over to our place. She kicked me out, told me to go over to Mrs. Jenkins’. Only, I used my key and snuck back in. I heard noises coming from her bedroom. Her door was open, so I snuck over and peeked inside. She was sitting on him, moaning his name,” her voice modulated into an airy falsetto, “Oh, Hank, make me feel good! God, I’m about to come!”
When she finished imitating her mom, Tate couldn’t look any redder. Asher didn’t know what to say. Sure, he knew the mechanics of sex with a woman. But had never considered women enjoyed sex just as much as men. He needed to rearrange himself. His penis ached against his shorts. But the last thing he wanted was to draw Tate’s attention to him.
He couldn’t ignore the fluttering in his belly, “Girls enjoy that stuff as much as guys do, I guess.”
Tate pursed her lips as she stared at the linoleum floor, “Yeah.”
The way the girl acknowledged girls enjoying sexual play made Asher’s penis ache even more, and he found himself asking, “Does it feel good when you, um, touch it?”
Tate stared at the kitchen’s cheap linoleum floor even as she gave a tiny nod.
The acknowledgment, even the nearly imperceptible nod, created a tension that hadn’t existed before. Asher felt guilty about the way he’d steered the conversation. He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Boys do it too, Tate. It’s no big deal. You ready to go swimming?”
The girl looked up and smiled apologetically, “Um, yeah. Do you think I should keep this suit on?”
Asher ran a cursory eye over her, not really stopping to look. He was still working through his surprise at his body’s reaction to Tate. “Only if you want to. If you want to wear a pair of shorts, I promise I won’t let Ron and Dwayne mess with you.”
Tate disappeared into his bathroom and came out a few minutes later wearing a pair of red shorts. She looked so much like a young boy, Asher worried his flagging erection might return. And having once pointed it out, Tate, dressed like she was, could pass as his younger brother to an uncritical eye.
Although Asher was willing to fight to protect Tate from her tormentors, he was still glad to make it over to the pool without seeing the young bullies. He was even happier to see the pool area devoid of other people.
Setting her bag on a ratty lawn chair, Tate pulled a tube of sunscreen out, “Last year I didn’t put any on at the start of the summer, and I burned to a crisp. Can you help me put some on my back?”
The girl handed him the tube and turned away from Asher. The gel was cold in his hands and equally as cold when Tate shivered under his touch as he spread the sunscreen across her back. Tate’s skin felt soft and silky, to the point where Asher felt himself growing inside his shorts, again.
Once done with the girl’s back, Asher said, “What about your front?”
Tate turned around, her face red as she nodded, “Um, please?”
Asher had memories of rubbing his hands over Peter’s smooth, prepubescent chest, and as he rubbed the cold sunscreen across Tate’s immature chest, he closed his legs to minimize the bulge in his shorts. By the time his slick fingers brushed against the hem of the girl’s shorts, Asher’s breathing was fast and shallow.
Apparently, he wasn’t alone. When Tate took the tube from him, her chest rose and fell faster than normal. Even her voice strained when she said, “Turn around, and I’ll get your back.”
Asher shivered at the cold of the sunscreen even more than from Tate’s fingers rubbing it into his skin. When she finished his back, he wordlessly turned, offering his front. He couldn’t do anything about the bulge in his shorts. He just hoped Tate would ignore it if she saw it at all.
Tate started on his arms, even lifting them and rubbing the gel just below his hairless pits. When she finally reached his belly, after both arms and his chest, she said, “You’re so smooth, Ash. I thought you’d be hairier.”
Asher blushed at the girl’s close inspection, “I guess I’m a late bloomer. The second boy you saw, he was hairy?”
Tate wiped her fingers off on his abdomen, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Come on, let’s get in the water.”
She turned away from him and dived into the deep end. When she came up sputtering, she flashed a grin at Asher, the awkward conversation forgotten, “The water’s fine.”
The cloudy color belied her words. But it was always that way. No doubt the maintenance crew had the water’s chemical balance off. Still, Tate didn’t seem affected, so Asher sat on the concrete ledge and dangled his legs in the water.
“Slide in, Ash. You can hold onto the side of the pool.”
With his heart pounding in his chest, Asher slid into the water, keeping a tight grip on the strip of concrete ribbon encircling the pool. He’d never dared venture past the shallow end of the pool before.
“Try to stand, Ash. It’s not too deep.”
It was deep enough, he decided when he had to tilt his head to keep his nose above the waterline once his feet found the bottom. “What now?”
Tate swam over beside him and said, “Let’s start out practicing how to kick. Once you know how to kick, you’re halfway done.”
Holding onto the side of the pool, Asher let his body float on the water while he kicked in place. By the time Tate told him to stop, his legs almost felt like Jell-o. He could see how the exercises would help. The one time, right after he’d arrived at the government facility and they’d gone to the local Y, he’d managed to get over his head, and the doggie paddling he’d done to keep his head over the water had been tiring. The way Tate had him scissoring his legs made sense.
“Let’s go to the shallow end,” the girl said as Asher’s energy ebbed.
Once in the shallow end, she showed him how to float on his back. It was a bit disconcerting, and every time water poured into his ears, Asher wanted to stand up. But it was a lot more restful than kicking. They’d been in the pool for about an hour when the gate swung open, and a young woman came into the pool area, pulled along by a couple of kids barely out of diapers.
Tate sighed, “I guess that’s it for now.”
As Asher followed the girl out of the pool, the young woman didn’t give either of them a second look as she lathered sunscreen on her kids.
He fell into step beside the girl as they left the pool area, “How’d I do?”
“Pretty good. Next time, I’ll teach you how to freestyle with your arms. Once you’ve got that down, you’ll be swimming as good as me.”
When they got back to the apartment, Asher saw it was barely two in the afternoon, “When do you need to get home, Tate?”
The girl was in the kitchen, filling up a glass with water from the tap, “Mom’s usually home by six on Thursdays. Can we watch some more TV?”
“Stranger Things?”
She shook her head, “Maybe this evening, if she goes back out. Something else?”
Asher tossed a towel onto the sofa before sitting down and grabbing the remote. By the time he found The Martian, Tate had settled in beside him, her still-damp hair resting against his arm and her wet shorts touching his own.
The youth enjoyed the start of the movie. More confusing for Asher was how much he enjoyed the feel of Tate beside him. Sure, she looked like the cutest boy he’d ever seen. Yet, she was undeniably a girl. Asher stirred within his shorts, and for the life of him, he didn’t know if it was because of her boyish looks or because under the veneer, she was a pretty girl who obviously liked him.
Time would resolve the confusion, he hoped. For now, he enjoyed Tate’s closeness and moved the arm she was leaning against and slid it around her shoulders. The girl responded by scooting closer, resting her head against the side of Asher’s chest.
Somewhere around the halfway mark of the movie, Asher absentmindedly let his hand rest against the girl’s chest, his fingers a few inches above her boy-like right nipple. A bit later, Tate pulled her feet onto the couch, tucking them against her side. When she moved, more of her body rested against him. Then, she rested her right hand against his torso as she shifted her head to rest against the front of Asher’s chest.
By the time the movie ended, Asher had shifted, just enough to wrap his left arm around the girl, almost holding her in a hug. As the credits rolled, Tate snuggled against him, “Thanks for letting me hang out with you. This was fun.”
Glancing down at his lap, Asher could only agree. He’d been erect for most of the movie, and if Tate had noticed it pushing at his shorts, she hadn’t said a word. He was no closer to figuring out what about the boyish girl drew him in but was past the point of trying to figure it out. Before he could articulate his feelings, Tate sat up a bit, tilted her head up, and kissed his cheek. The electrical shock of the kiss startled him, and he jerked in his seat.
She flushed when she pulled back, a look of fear in her eyes at how he had jumped. With his hand touching the spot where she’d kissed him, Asher stammered, “Oh, wow. W-what brought that on?”
Tate bit down on her lip as her eyebrows knitted in worry, “I’m s-sorry, Ash. I s-shouldn’t have.”
Slowly, feeling a mountain of uncertainty at the feelings roiling in his stomach, Asher said, “It’s okay, Tate. I, I liked it. Just wondering what brought it on, that’s all.”
The girl released her teeth’s grip on her lower lip, “I know we’ve only been friends for a few days, Ash, but you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I, um, wanted to show you how much I like you.”
Asher thought about how he had felt when he had been caught giving Peter a blowjob. He’d been given a tongue-lashing by the head therapist and had lost his privileges for two weeks. But he’d been told in no uncertain terms what could have happened to him as a seventeen-year-old boy messing around with a twelve-year-old boy. That’s when he realized he was too valuable to the government’s case against Perdicaris and the Syndicate for them to make an example of him. Still, he didn’t know what he wanted with Tate. His feelings for her were confused. Even so, his stomach fluttered to hear her tell him she liked him.
He leaned down and planted a quick peck on Tate’s lips. It was over almost as soon as it had begun, but it left the girl with a smile. “I like you, too,” he said.
Continued in Part 5
Copyright 2020 – Caliboy1991
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