I wave goodbye, wondering what universe I live in now where I’m getting well wishes from girls like Johanna Smith, but I don’t have time to dwell on how she’s changed.
But as I drive to the Woods’ house, I can’t help but worry.
Has Autumn changed too?Autumn“Just don’t be weird,” I say, applying my lipstick in Tommy’s new Honda Civic as he drives us to my mom’s house.
“Why would I be weird?” he asks. “You’re the one who’s been totally bent out of shape about this dumbass holiday.”
I press my red lips together. “Tommy, first of all, it’s not a dumb holiday. It’s Thanksgiving. My favorite holiday of the year.”
He laughs, pulling up to the house. There are already a few cars here. “Yeah, not surprised.” He pinches my waist, my little muffin top playfully. “You like second helpings, don’t you?”
I swat his hand away. Maybe some guys could get away with touching my tummy — but Tommy doesn’t say it to be sweet. He is a jerk, something I’m beginning to realize as we spend more time together.
“You know, if you don’t want to come, you don’t have to,” I tell him. We’ve only been dating a few months. And dating is a relative term. He has never actually taken me out anywhere.
But I asked Tommy before I knew Russet would be here.
Now I feel like this is all wrong.
“What and miss a home cooked meal?” He scowls. “Hell no. I’m coming in.”
“Won’t your parent miss you?” I ask. When we first met I thought he was the whole package. He had a car. Was going to college. And had family around. Turns out, none of that really matters. He’s kind of a jerk. And money doesn’t make a man.
I swallow.
I know what makes a man.
A real man.
“Nah. I’ll go swing by their place later, for dessert.”
“Alright. Just … be nice.”
“God, you’re acting so uptight. What’s the deal?”
We get out of the car and I straighten my dark green dress. It has yellow and orange leaves embroidered on the neckline. Leaves I embroidered myself. I wanted to look extra nice today.
Well, and my lacy bra and panty set might say I want to look more than nice.
Why in the world am I bringing Tommy?
As I walk to the door, I know why. Tommy is my armor today. I haven’t seen Russet since he left for boot camp … the day he turned down my heart. The day he walked away.
In the end, those kisses all summer, those caresses, the way his calloused fingers laced with mine, meant nothing.
I’m scared to see him again. Scared of the emotions I might have.
Tommy wraps an arm around my waist. “You look hot in that little dress. Maybe later we can finally hook up. For reals.”
I swallow, reaching to open the screen door. Knowing there is literally no way I am sleeping with Tommy. Ever.
I haven’t saved my virginity all this time to share it with him.
Pushing open the door I pray that this isn’t awkward. I never told my brother or Mom about how Russet broke my heart … and honestly? I don’t want them to know.
I was mortified when he left me. I was so ready to share my life with him, go all in.
He left.
The moment we step inside, we’re greeted with the most amazing smells. Mom really outdid herself, but I know she really wanted to make it special for Russet, especially in light of his bravery this past month.
If I wasn’t good enough for him before, it’s a whole new level now. Now he is a hero. And when I look up and see him walking in the room — I know he’s more than a hero.
He was my first love.
It’s the truth: I loved him.
Love him.
I always have and I fear I always will.
And he is so, so, hot today. His button-up shirt strains at the shoulders and biceps in a way that sends a tingle up and down my spine. His hair is shaved short on the sides, but just long enough on tip to run your hands through. My fingers itch to touch him.
“Autumn,” he says. “It’s been so long.” He pulls me into a hug. A hug Tommy or Grayson would think is friendly. A regular old ‘my older brother’s best friend is home from active duty’ hug.
But it is so much more than that.
He smells like he just stepped out a shower. Gone is the cigarette smoke on his clothes, the bottle of beer in his hand. But those were never really his smells. They were his defenses against a world that beat him up and broke him down.
Now, I breathe him in and it sends a current of familiarity over me. Old Spice and maple syrup, and if I could kiss his lips I bet I’d taste the lingering pancakes he ate for breakfast. He always had a sweet tooth.