Neil turns toward me. “I need to get out of here. Like now, Chrissie. Or I’m going to go back there and punch my cousin.”

My eyes widen.

“OK. But I can’t walk that fast.”

With his hand, he rakes back his hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll walk slower.”

We walk the rest of the way to the car. Neil unlocks my door, opens it, and then sprints around to the driver’s seat. He’s practically running for his door when he usually lumbers. I barely have my seatbelt latched before he’s maneuvering us quickly down the mountain.

I push back in my seat, turning just enough toward him so I can see him. The tic in his cheek is working double time. His jaw is tense. He shifts through the gears aggressively, not smoothly. He’s silent. He’s pissed off.

When we get to Neil’s parents’ house, he doesn’t park in the driveway. He pulls ahead, under a tree, out of view of the front windows.

He turns off the car. Silence. He takes several hard breaths, in and out, as if he’s trying to calm down.

“I fucking hate them sometimes,” he says on a ragged exhale of breath. “I’m sorry I did this. I’m sorry I took you there.”

My eyes widened. He sounds really upset. “Your cousins are nice. I had a good time.”

I watch his expression change several times. Finally, he looks at me.

“Tony said something about you before we left. Did you hear it?” Neil asks.

He looks nervous about this. Worried. Furious.

I shake my head. His expression tells me I don’t want to ask what Tony said. Tony was really wasted tonight. I can’t imagine what could change Neil from calm, smiling Neil to anxious and enraged Neil.

I take in a breath. “No.”

His jaw and mouth tighten and untighten, several times.

“Tony was wasted,” I say.

“Tony is an asshole. He thinks he knows things he doesn’t. He says things he shouldn’t. He’s an asshole.”

God, he’s really angry, and for some reason, really distraught by a rude comment made by his wasted cousin.

“I had a good time today, Neil. Don’t let Tony ruin what was a pretty fine day. He’s your cousin. Let it go,”

Neil’s eyes shift towards me. He searches my face, and then a ragged, exhale of breath pushes its way from his chest into the air. He starts to unbend.

“I had a good time with you,” he says. “I always have fun when I’m with you.”

“I have fun when I’m with you.”

The last of the tension eases from Neil’s face. “Who would have thought we’d ever end up friends?” he teases.

I smile. “Definitely weird, but I kind of like it.”

He touches my face. He looks surprised by it too. “So do I, Chrissie.”

Then something changes in Neil’s eyes. I don’t see the movement of his body toward me, me being pulled into him, his face lowering to mine, and his arm lifting so he can bury his fingers in my hair, moving my face with the movement of his kiss.

Whatever I imagined kissing Neil would be like before this night is shattered with the first touch of his lips. This is no feather-light, tentative first kiss. It’s hungry and demanding. He plunders my mouth with his, and the taste of him is delicious and new, making me pulse everywhere, in time with each stroke of his tongue.

I melt into him, my too long denied senses greedily absorbing the taste, the feel, the heat in him. We’re both moaning loudly. We’re both fucking each other’s mouth. We’re both straining and wanting.

My anxious hands roam and touch him everywhere, learning the feel of him, eager to get closer and closer to him.

The kiss breaks. I’m breathing hard. I’m wet and wanting there, for the first time since…I push the thought away.

My gaze fixes on Neil. His hair has tumbled forward, hiding his face, but I can see he’s trying to collect himself.

“Oh fuck,” he exhales, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

I stare at him. My body surprises me by how strongly I want Neil.

Neil looks up, his gaze heated as he meets my stare, the lines of his face tense. “Give me a minute, Chrissie. I can’t get out of the car yet.”

I lean into him, putting my mouth back on his, and my hand drifts lower. I can feel his erection thick and straining within his shorts. I push into him as much as I can from my seat. My tongue attacks his. My fingers brush him there.

He starts kissing me back, matching my fever, and our bodies are both moving urgently as if trying to figure out how to get closer to each other in the car. I’m about to climb over the center console, when Neil grabs my wrist, stopping me.

He pulls free his erection from his shorts. There’s a little bit of cum already on it. He rubs it along himself, and then guides my hand to him, showing me how to stroke him. He swells in my fingers, moves my hand faster, then moves his own hand to feel to his balls and squeeze before he returns to control my hand running up and down the length of him. Faster. Faster.

My arousal heatedly courses through my body. The feel of getting him off with my touch, feeling him surrender to my fingers, has my body going full throttle. The way he’s moaning. His mouth punishing as he kisses me. Every part of me is desperate to have him in me.

He stretches back in his seat. He’s shaking and groaning. He pulls his lips free. Eyes closed and head back, he breathes, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, of fuck…” and then my fingers are a sticky and warm mess. His shakes quiet into quivers. His ragged breathing takes on a steady rhythm.

I stare at him, the blood pulsing through my body, urgent in my sex, and he’s trying to recover from his passion empty cock.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes again, this time in distress, not pleasure.

He doesn’t look at me. He covers his eyes with his forearm. “I’m a fucking asshole, Chrissie. I don’t want to fuck up our friendship. Our friendship matters to me. I don’t want to ruin it by complicating it.”

My scalp prickles as by body goes cold. He sounds angry. I’ve just given him a hand job. He wanted it. And now he’s angry.

He looks at me. “That was a really selfish, prick move to make, but I’ve had a fucking boner every time I’ve been around you for the last three weeks.”

My eyes widen. He always plays it so cool. Why doesn’t he make a move on me?

He reaches past me into the glove box and starts searching through my dad’s things. He finds a packet of tissues and pulls out a handful, hands some to me, then proceeds to clean himself off before he tucks his dick back in his shorts. He crumples the tissue in his hand as he unbuckles his seat belt.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He makes a face. “I can’t believe I just came in Jackson Parker’s car.”

He says it like it’s disgusting.

“Are you OK?” he asks.

I nod, fighting to keep my emotion from my face.

“Are you pissed?”

I shake my head, and he climbs from the car as I ease myself over the center console into the driver’s seat. He stares down at me from outside the open door.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says quietly.

I struggle to talk. “Sure, Neil.”

“Night, Chrissie.”

He shuts the door. I watch him walk to his parents’ porch. He pauses there, staring at me. I turn the key in the ignition and accelerate away from the curb.

By the time I reach the house my mind is a torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotions. I’m too wired to go to sleep.

I cut through the front entry hall toward the kitchen. I stare through the wall of glass. Jack is on the patio, sitting on a chaise, still awake, and waiting up for me.

I go out the French doors and settle on a lounger beside him. I hug my knees with my arms.

“Did you have a good time tonight, baby girl?”

I nod. I lay my cheek on my knees so I can meet Jack’s gaze. “Daddy, why are guys so complicated?”

Jack laughs. “I don’t know that we are. We’re pretty much what you see. What we say, what we do, is what you get.”