Chapter 12: Eddie

Well, I'm darned if I know what happened last night! I figured that Dave might come and get me and move me into his bed, but he never did.

So then I figured my plan had worked to perfection, and Dave and Emily would be together in Dave's bed when I got up in the morning -- or else they'd be up already, and dressed and trying to act like nothing had happened.

But when I got up, there was Dave, still sleeping, and all scrunched up on the couch in the living room. He didn't even have a blanket on him, and I knew he was gonna be stiff and sore when he woke up. He looked terrible! Emily must of thought me 'n Dave had planned the whole thing, so that she'd be forced to sleep with him! She must of banished poor Dave to the couch, and slept in there, in his bedroom, all by herself!

Jeez, if I'd ever of known something like that would happen, I wouldn't of tried this little trick of mine, to maneuver the two of them together!

Poor Dave!

They were both still sleepin', so I went into the bathroom first, and got cleaned up, and come out and made coffee. I made extra, since I figured Emily would want some, too. I guess Dave heard me in the kitchen, and he got up from the couch and headed for the bathroom himself. He never said anything to me, just headed straight for the bathroom. I could tell he had a big ol' hard-on.

Poor Dave!

I felt really bad, and wished I'd done what Dave had said and just went to bed, in his bed, before they got back, like I was supposed to. Looks like now I'd really screwed things up between them. Now, Emily might just get up and get dressed and go on back home. Maybe she wouldn't even stay for the game this afternoon.

But after Dave came out of the bathroom, he had his pants on, and a t-shirt, but no shoes or socks or anything. He just casually went into his own bedroom -- I guess to finish dressing or to maybe wake Emily up and tell her to get ready for brunch. We were supposed to go over to Ms. Washington's side around 10 o'clock, and it was close to 9 already.

Neither Dave nor Emily came out of the bedroom for a long time, and I couldn't hear them in there. Maybe they were doin' it. But I didn't think so. I mean, if they wanted to do it, why couldn't Dave have slept in there with her, last night? But at least they weren't arguing, or hollering at each other. I wished that they were in there, doin' it, but I knew they probably weren't.

After a while, here comes Emily in a terrycloth robe, and she's smiling up a storm, heading for the bathroom, so I guess whatever was going on with the two of them, they weren't fighting about it. At least, not any more.

But, jeez! Something had gone wrong!

When Emily came out again she was wearing a little shorts outfit, which I figured was what she was going to wear to the game. She was cuter'n anything. Her bad leg was almost normal, the part up above the knee, there, and it was only the bottom part that was skinny and small-like. But, gosh, it didn't take away much from her looks! Emily was ... oh my! She was ... she could give you a boner, man! I felt a little guilty, getting a bone over my big brother's girlfriend, like that. But I only felt that way a little bit, because when you're my age, you can get a hard-on from pretty much anything at all.

Watch a frog jump into a pond, and boom! ... Hard-on!

Still, I knew that Emily Anne Shreve, in short-shorts, wasn't exactly just anything at all. I knew, because it was more than just a bone that I grew: It was a twitcher! I hung back a little bit, and messed around in the hall closet, pretending like I was looking for something, but really just waiting for my boner to go back down so I could go into the kitchenette, there, with Emily, and act normal.

We were going to be together again today, me 'n Emily, this afternoon, watching the ballgame. I was going to have to stay in control of myself and be a good little brother, and not a Dirty Young Man.

Dave come back out, and he had on a regular polo shirt now, and his shoes and socks on, and a belt on his jeans, and he looked trim and nice, like he pretty much always did. Dave didn't have to primp much, to look good. I noticed Emily taking it all in, and looking Dave over real good, and I don't think Dave missed how good Emily looked in those short-shorts, neither. I admired that she would wear those kinds of outfits, in spite of her having that withered leg and all. I mean, don't get me wrong -- she looked good enough to eat! But, still, it took some courage, to dress like that and just tell the world, "See? I've got this fucked-up leg, here, but I'm still hot!"

And, oh, she was, too! Hot, I mean! Soon as I had that thought -- about her being good enough to eat? Well, guess what I was imagining I was having for breakfast? It wasn't brunch with Ms. Washington, I'll tell you that much! God! If it's true that we're gonna go to Hell because of us having lust in our hearts, then I'm a sure-fire goner! And me, at the tender age of 13! Maybe I'll repent of it all, one day, but, please, God -- don't make it be today!

Ms. Washington must of spent her entire Social Security check for the month on that meal she fixed for us. At a little after ten in the morning we were chowing down serious: eggs, along with bacon and link sausage and country ham, and a choice of grits or home-fries, and big fluffy browned biscuits you could slop your gravy onto, or could pat down with real butter!

Oh, my! That meal downtown last night? ... That had been something special, but there's nothing -- nothing!... can beat a big country breakfast!

So we were all ready for extra coffee after, in Ms. Washington's living room, and she fixed it extra strong just the way she already knew Dave liked it best, and a little before noon, when it was time for Dave to be heading for the ball park for pre-game drills, we were just beginning to feel like we'd digested all that food enough to get up and move around a little.

It was a gorgeous late June day -- as pretty as they come -- and we were all feelin' good. I kept looking at Dave and at Emily, trying to figure out if they'd done it or not, during the night. I couldn't tell, but they weren't mad at each other, I could sure tell that much!

We got to the park and me 'n Emily found our seats behind home plate, just about the same place we'd sat the night before. Dave was changing into his uniform and there was still a little over an hour before game time. There were a few Lynchburg players on the field, long-tossing baseballs, and three of their guys were playing pepper over by the "No Pepper!" sign.

I was sitting right next to Emily and when I finally quit taking quick looks at her bare thighs stretched out there in front of her, I looked up a ways higher and -- oh, God! I had a clean shot through an opening between the buttons of her little cotton blouse, there, and I could see the top of her left boob, just as clear as anything, and so close I could have reached over and touched it! And I damned near did, that's how pretty it looked!

She had a bra on, and all I could really see was the top of her breast, where it was kinda bulging out of the bra, but it was so pretty and creamy-looking that all I could do was stare at it, kinda mesmerized, you know?

And when I finally looked up at her face she had this evil, kind-of glint in her eye and a smile on her face and I knew, right away, that I'd been busted.

"Sorry," I muttered.

But she wasn't going to let me off that easy. "What?" she said, all innocent, like she didn't know what I was apologizing about, or hadn't heard me or something.

"I said, 'sorry, '"

"Oh ... For what, Eddie?"

OK, so she caught me, and I shouldn't have been trying to look inside her blouse like that, and even if I'd gotten a peek, I knew enough not to just stare at her titties like that for an hour, or however long it had been.