A Song for Julia

completely bullshit, because I’d get in trouble, cops would pick me up, and then they’d call him. Embarrassing for a cop to have his kid in so much trouble all the time.”
    “I like your dad.”
    Crank smiled. “I’m glad. He’s a great dad. To be honest, I worship the ground he walks on. Even though we’ve spent half my life fighting. I just wish he didn’t have to go to Kuwait. That’s utter bullshit.”
    I sighed. “It just occurred to me—what happens with Sean? When we go on the tour?”
    He played with his fork for a second. “We bring him with us. He’ll be fine. I bet he’ll love the travel, he’s never been out of Boston.”
    That would be a … challenge.
    “You don’t think it’ll be too hard on him? He doesn’t deal with change very well.”
    “There’s going to be change no matter what we do with Dad gone. And … even if my mom moves home, I don’t know that she’s ready to spend a summer with just the two of them.”
    Maybe he was right. It wasn’t my place to say. But I had the feeling Sean and his mother might both have other ideas.
    After breakfast, we still had time to kill, but not enough to do what we both obviously wanted. So we walked around talking, simply enjoying each other’s company, in what was to us, unseasonable warmth and sunshine.
    I could so see living in LA.
    Finally, we waved down a cab and headed back out to the airport, then went through the whole routine: checking in, going through security, then finding our way to the gate and waiting. We had about an hour to go and got into a conversation about music. Who liked what. Which bands were the most groundbreaking. He was very focused on the eclectic pseudo punk around Boston. I’m a little more broad ranging in my taste, so our conversation tended to wander all over the place.
    He was staring at me in shock, saying, “No way can you like them,” when the announcement came over the intercom. Our flight was cancelled.
    We made it to the desk first in line. We argued, pleaded, begged, but there weren’t any more flights back east that night.
    “All we can do is book you in a hotel for the night,” the attendant said. “We’ll shuttle you there, and then back in the morning. You can catch the first flight back in the morning.”
    Not much choice. I didn’t even have a change of clothes. Yuck. I nodded.
    “You’re traveling together? One room or two?”
    “One,” Crank said, exactly when I said, “Two.”
    The attendant’s mouth quirked up in a faint smile.
    Crank spoke. “Whatever she wants. Two rooms are fine.”
    Damn it. “We’ll take one,” I said, grinding my teeth.
    “One room it is,” she said, typing in her computer. She was grinning now.
    I gave Crank a dirty look. He winked at me.
    “You two are cute,” the attendant said.
    Great. She thinks we’re cute.
    “Well then … okay. I’ve got you booked in the airport Sheraton. Let me print this out, and you can catch the shuttle near the baggage claim. Just follow the signs. Your departing flight is tomorrow morning at ten A.M.”
    That would put us back into Logan at ten at night. Which would put me behind in school, because I had a paper to write. Damn it. I guess I could write it on the plane tomorrow.
    A moment later, she handed Crank the reservation for the hotel room, and we were off.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

    She might not (Crank)
    I’m such a frickin’ idiot. It’s not like I hadn’t been making lewd sexual advances to Julia all day long. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of her taking me up on it. But here we were, on our way to the hotel in the shuttle, and we were sharing a room, and she was leaning against me in a way that meant only one thing, and I didn’t have any condoms.
    I repeat: I’m such a frickin’ idiot.
    It had officially been something like six weeks since I’d had sex, not counting our almost there moment in her room a couple weeks ago. Which was awesome, but, seriously. I was like a blushing virgin at this point.
    Now that I thought about it, the last time I’d had sex was the night before I met Julia.
    I’m not one to puzzle over great mysteries, or what it all means, or mental masturbate myself into a big tizzy wondering where my life is headed. But even I had to admit—somehow I’d fallen into a monogamous relationship. With a woman who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, commit. And who hadn’t had sex with me yet. Although, I knew it was going to be hot. Christ, just a kiss from her sent