Free September Rain Bk 2, Savor The Days Series by A.R. Rivera Page B

was going to be a long ride, so I
settled in, and let my mind wander.
    I spent as much time as I could with
Jake, but he worked full-time and had the band, so that mostly left
the nights and weekends. If Analog Controller wasn’t playing a gig
somewhere. Even then, I usually had to contend with my foster,
Deanna, to let me go over to see him. That’s why it was easier to
simply take the bus straight from school without saying anything.
If the Foster ever asked, I made up a random classmate, saying I
had to work with them on a school project. Or said I was at the
school library, which was the most convenient place and she never
asked on Fridays, because I had to go see my shrink on Fridays. But
my appointment wasn’t until five-thirty, which left me a small
window of time to spend with Jake.
    The school bus was nearly empty by the
time it hit Jakes street. After the driver pulled over and opened
the door I hopped out, only a half block away from his house—at the
corner that opened up into his cul-de-sac. The plain suburban area
was filled with older track homes and dead lawns that were as
familiar as my own bedroom.
    All of Carlisle was brown year-round.
What little spring green there was usually dried out by March.
Before May was over, the only living green left was cactus. I don’t
think there is a type of grass that can survive an Arizona summer.
Maybe Astroturf?
    My feet swept over the hardscaped lawn
that made up Jakes front yard. It was all decorative stones and
gravel. In the very center, there was a great big cactus with a
large, broken wagon wheel resting at the base.
    I knocked on the door as my
stomach went into flip-flops. My constant anxiety was morphing into
hope, because there was no van in the driveway, which meant someone
was gone. Hopefully, two
someone’s.
    He didn’t answer the door. Jake never
did. His voice drifted from unseen places, “Get’ch your ass
inside,” over Black Sabbath.
    That was a constant—Jake and
music—indivisible like those jars of peanut butter mixed with
jelly. Couldn’t have one without the other. He breathed it: in the
nose and out every pore on his body. It made everything around him
come alive.
    The humming air conditioner cooled me
as I stepped into the dark entry. I dropped my bag at the front
door and rounded the corner into the hall that met the kitchen. I
made my way slowly, as my eyes adjusted.
    My face heated the way it always
did—only for Jake. I could see the side of his face as he stood,
his mouth puckered in a look of concentration as he bent over the
scratched up dining table that held his favorite guitar, a black,
curvy Fender with the sunburst design. I could tell from the wiry
mess surrounding it, that I had interrupted him polishing and
changing the strings.
    The music oozed from the living room
stereo into the sparsely furnished, open kitchen.
    Jake looked up and his pucker
stretched to a welcoming grin. “She’s here, my girl, Friday.” He
met me half way, greeting me with a sweet peck on my forehead, then
one on my nose, and the corner of my mouth.
    “Drink?” He held out a sweaty
twenty-ounce of Coke he’d been drinking on. Jake always
shared.
    “Water.” I veered to the left, towards
the sink.
    “You’ll probably have to wash a
glass.”
    While waiting for the tap
water to run cool, I plucked up a nearby sponge and sniffed. Seems safe , I thought
and set it under the running water, soaped it, and began washing.
Three plates and four glasses later, I decided the water was as
cool as it was going to get and filled a special edition jelly jar
that doubled as a tea mug.
    While I gulped, his arms crept around
my waist from behind. His lips fell to my neck, ticklishly pecking
at the nape. I moved my head, squeezing him out of the tickle zone
and giggled.
    He turned me around in his arms,
turning the full power of his worshipful gaze on me. “You look
sleepy, baby.” His fingertips grazed the hollow under my eye.
Before I answered, his lips