Something In Between: Sequel to On The Edge of Tomorrow

Chapter 7

"Of all the things to tempt my beliefs and you come up with cookies," his voice was low as he leaned a bit closer.

"Did you call your mom's shortbread mere cookies? How dare you?"

"I love a woman that'll defend my mother's honor."

He was so close now that his nose was nearly touching mine. A lump was forming at the base of my throat, and I heavily gulped to push it down. The swallow revealed the impact of his proximity, and a satisfied twitch curled one side of his mouth.

An exaggerated throat clearing from Mary shattered the moment. "Unless you're going to help make the shortbread, you can move along." She shooed us away with a few flicks of her hand.

"You sure you don't want to come to the garage with me?" Billy tugged on my jean shorts' belt loop so I couldn't get too far ahead of him.

"Let me think, greasy garage or comfortable basement? Sorry, even with the Tim variable, the comfortable basement wins," I tried to nonchalantly shrug, but he could see through me.

"Okay," he didn't mask the rejection, but he tugged harder on my belt loop, causing me to spill back against his chest. "I'll miss you," he murmured as his face sunk to my neck. His lips danced gently across my skin as his damp hair tickled the side of my face.

I tightly closed my eyes and mustered all my willpower to pull away. "Basement?"

Billy gazed at me for a moment, frustration flooding his eyes before reaching behind me for a door and pulling it ajar.

"Thanks," I murmured as I made my escape.

As I descended the final few stairs to the basement, familiarity hugged me. The old green 70's furniture from Mary's old house peppered the space between instruments and amps. In the middle of it all sat Tim surrounded by boxes of 45s as though he were a child surrounded by his presents on Christmas morning.

"Hey, Lil," he said with an air of excitement. "I'm glad you're here. What's your favorite song again? I know it's James and Bobby Purify, but I also know it's not Shake Your Tail Feather." He held up his hand with a record around his finger like a ring.

"I'm Your Puppet," I corrected.

"Of course, that's so obvious." He shook his head to himself as he tucked the album from his finger back into a box and pulled a different one to him.

"Why do you ask?" I slumped down to the floor next to him and started to absently flick through a box of records. Thoughts of Billy tugged at my focus.

"It'll help me order them," he said, "let me know if you see any other favorites.

"Mmhmm," I continued to flick without seeing the titles.

"You okay? You're a little... twitchy." He set a hand down on top of mine to stop my merciless flipping.

"Sorry, distracted," I murmured.

"Mmhmm, distracted. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

I ignored his taunts and began to flip through the singles more deliberately. "What do you want me to do when I find a favorite?"

"Start a different box," he murmured as he handed me an empty record box. "It holds 25, so be picky." After a moment, he let out a snort. "Look at who I'm saying that to."

"Rude," I shot back.

"And yet you don't deny it." He peeked into my box to see what I'd put in and tucked I'm Your Puppet in too. "The Crickets; you listen to music like you watch movies."