"What are you doing?" Brigitte questioned, her face scrunched up as she looked at him with utter disbelief when Bobby began to open the passenger side door of his car.
"I am opening the door for you?" he replied, unsure of why this was offensive to her.
"The cinema is only a twenty minute walk away. And there is nowhere to put a car there. We should just walk." Brigitte began to walk in the direction of the theater.
"But if I drive, we will be there in less than ten minutes," Bobby argued, holding steady by the open door.
Bobby watched as Brigitte stopped walking and turned to face him, her hand on her hip and her head slightly cocked. He still could not get over how beautiful she was under all that engine grease and baggy clothing… or how strangely turned on he was by her disgusted looks and quick remarks.
At the end of their 'picnic', Bobby had immediately asked her to go out with him again the next day. She gave him an odd look when he suggested dinner and immediately Bobby worried that she had not had as good of a time as he had. He cursed himself for having agreed to have their first date on the floor of the garage rather than insisting on taking her out. He backpedaled and told her that if she wasn't interested in seeing him again that was okay, but that he had really enjoyed himself and he was sorry about the whole eating in the garage thing. He stopped suddenly when Brigitte grabbed his arm, her hand surprisingly strong when she squeezed. "Bobby," she said. "Tomorrow's Sunday. Nothing will be open."
Her look finally clicked for him and he filed 'everything is closed on Sunday' away under 'things that aren't like America' in his head. After a round of negotiations, which included Brigitte insisting that she needed time to study, they had finally decided on a movie on Friday night. The intervening week had been torture for Bobby, as he could not get Brigitte out of his head. He would play back every moment of their first date, especially the feel of her cheek pressing against his as she kissed him goodbye. Of course this reminiscing would always come just as his father was trying to give him instructions, resulting in several 'get your head out of your ass' lectures that week.
But his father's sermons were nowhere near the front of his mind as he stared at the woman before him, who seemed to be set on walking to the theater when they had a perfectly good car. "Come on, Brigitte," Bobby coaxed. "I know it is okay with the car. Let's go."
Brigitte rolled her eyes. "Have you ever been there? It's in the oldest part of town. I'm telling you Bobby—"
"If we argue, we will miss the show. Let's just drive. It will be okay."
"No, it won't."
"Well, you can tell me that you told me so."
Brigitte's 'I told you sos' officially began when they finally, after 20 minutes of driving around, parked the car only a couple blocks from her house and hurriedly walked to the cinema. He noticed that she seemed to enjoy giving him hell over this and, although she was very vocal about it, the grin on her face indicated she wasn't actually upset. About halfway through the walk, as she was again going over how he was an idiot, he grabbed her hand and said, "You are right. From now on I will do what you say."
She glanced down at their joined hands before looking back up at him and giving him a smirk. "I like the sound of that. You're a smart man after all. No wonder you're going to Yale."
He held her hand tight the rest of the way to the cinema.
When they finally arrived, the credits had just finished and they hurriedly found seats in the back as the camera panned through a circus scene. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief when he heard a voice call out "Right this way, folks! Right this way!" in English as French subtitles danced across the bottom of the screen.
Bobby settled into his seat and his thoughts immediately went to Brigitte. She was close enough that he could smell the light scent of her soap and he desperately wanted to reach out for her. His fingers twitched as he watched Mae West strut out before an adoring crowd, wearing a figure hugging dress as the circus ring leader worked the crowd up into a frenzy to buy tickets to see the burlesque show.
Brigitte watched as the scene transitioned to West performing a sultry Middle Eastern style dance before her voice rang out, "And they call me Sister Honky-tonk." She was questioning what exactly a "Honky-tonk" was when Bobby shifted and she felt his arm fall around her shoulders. Glancing up at him, she saw the hesitant look on his face. In an effort to reassure him, she snuggled against him… and smiled as a pleasant warmth coursed through her body. At the end of their picnic in the garage, Brigitte had considered giving him a proper kiss. But something made her hesitate, and she had kissed his cheek instead. Now, nestled in his embrace, she felt some of that hesitancy melting away. He seemed sweet, at least most of the time… and she couldn't deny he was handsome. Settling in to watch the movie, she let herself enjoy the moment and tried not to worry about where this was going.
Over an hour later Brigitte was bored. She had noticed that Bobby seemed to be much more entertained by the film than she was, seeing him laugh at quite a few of West's lines. She wondered if something was being lost in the translation because she didn't understand what was so funny. She was idly drawing shapes on Bobby's leg to entertain herself as the courtroom scene droned on in the background.
Bobby shivered, becoming thoroughly distracted from anything that was happening on the screen as Brigitte ran her fingers lightly along his thigh. She normally would keep to the area around his knee, but once or twice she had moved up his leg with her touch and strayed toward his inner thigh. He could feel himself responding and his instincts took over. He nuzzled her neck, laying down light kisses as he took in her scent.
Brigitte gasped as she felt Bobby's lips press against her, just as she had finished tracing out what she imagined a dodecahedron would look like if laid out flat. He withdrew momentarily and met her eyes and she actually felt her heart skip a beat. It was just like they described it in a romance novel, only, much to her surprise, it was actually happening to her. She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile and moved her hand to rest lightly against his chest.
When Bobby saw Brigitte's inviting smile and felt her hand on him, he let out a slow breath of relief. He ran his hand along her face and then around to the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair. His heart pounded as he leaned toward her, his attention focused on her lips.
Brigitte felt him draw her nearer to him and she knew he was going to kiss her. A moment of panic mixed with utter elation shot through her and she closed her eyes and waited. Then she felt it, the press of his warm lips against hers in a soft kiss. The movie rattled on in English around her, but she could not care less. She felt Bobby pull back slightly and she opened her eyes. He was looking at her again, asking with his eyes if she wanted more. She responded by moving toward him to initiate another kiss. She felt his tongue against her lips and opened her mouth, mimicking what she had seen in the movies. It was an odd, but pleasurable, sensation and she tried to copy the movements of his tongue with her own. After a moment he broke the kiss off again, lightly biting her lip as he pulled back.
Bobby opened his eyes as he pulled back to see a flushed Brigitte biting the lip he had just had between his own teeth. The desire he felt building in himself threatened to overwhelm him. He'd been on dates and kissed other girls, but it had never been anything like this. There was something about her, something that drove him mad and yet he couldn't quite define. He wanted to lean in and whisper in her ear that she was amazing and wonderful and beautiful. But he knew how trite that would sound. Instead, he nuzzled her neck again, and was rewarded by her soft sigh. Leaning back he looked into her dark eyes for moment before pressing his lips yet again against her.
They repeated this routine, exploring each other's lips and necks, each rewarded by the soft moans and gasps of the other, until all too soon the lights to the theater broke them apart.
"Bobby, I really have to go or I'll be late for dinner," Brigitte said as she halfheartedly tried to escape his embrace, having just returned to her house from ice cream and a stroll by the river.
"Please, one more kiss?" Bobby whispered into her ear and then nipped lightly at her neck.
"That is what you said three kisses ago."
"I cannot help it if you are… irresistible," he said the last word in a French accent, hoping it was a cognate, before pressing his lips against hers again. Standing on her toes, she kissed him back hungrily, running her hands down his cheeks and then around to the nape of his neck. She shivered as his hands trailed down her back, stopping just short of her rear.
The kiss slowly came to a close and Brigitte leaned back and sighed. "I really do have to go this time," she said and pushed away from him slightly.
He moaned a little as he let her go. "When can I see you again?"
"I have to go to my aunt and uncle's for a birthday party on Friday, so I won't be free until next Saturday," she replied.
"Maybe I can see you during the week?" Bobby asked hopefully.
"I really need to study, Bobby…" Brigitte trailed off.
"But Saturday is too long to wait," he pleaded and reached out for her. Wanting to return into his embrace, she didn't fight him, even though she knew she was going to catch hell from her mother if she was too late.
"Bobby, we just went to the cinema yesterday! You can wait a week to see me again!"
"But it will be torture!"
"I'm sure you'll survive," Brigitte said with a small laugh.
Bobby chuckled in return, and then his face grew more serious. "I just… I really like being with you. You are…" he trailed off, not knowing how to continue.
She smiled at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "I like being with you too, but I really need to study."
Suddenly, Bobby's eyes grew wide. "Maybe I can help you study! I am good at history. And if you take an English exam I can help."
Thinking about it for a moment, Brigitte replied, "Okay, come Wednesday after work. I was planning to study history then."
"I will be here."
After sharing one last kiss, Brigitte broke free of his grasp and walked toward her house, only turning back when she reached the gate that lead to the garden. Flashing him a smile she called back, "See you then."
"Bye!" she heard his voice echo slightly in the street as she slipped into the garden and headed toward the house. As she stepped into the entryway, she was hit by the warm aroma of chorizo wafting from the kitchen. She could see her mother slowly stirring the pan on the stove while her father was on the couch in the living room, reading the paper and listening to a slow song on the radio. They both glanced up as she entered, but her mother's attention immediately returned to her task. Her father, however, set the paper down.
"Brigitte! How was ice cream?" he asked as he motioned for her to come sit on the couch with him.
Walking to the couch, Brigitte sat, kicking off her shoes and drawing up her legs. "Good," she replied as she began to riffle through the paper.
"You aren't going to study now?"
Brigitte looked up at her father. "No, it's almost dinner time."
"After dinner?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Brigitte threw down the 'local' section she had finally fished out of the pile. "Papa, I studied all morning. Can't I take half a day off?"
Rather than answering her question, he asked another. "Are you going to see him again?"
Brigitte wanted to scream. Taking a deep breath, she said through clenched teeth, "Yes, he's coming over Wednesday. He's actually going to help me study for the history exam."
Phillippe looked slightly shocked at that, much to Brigitte's delight. She was waiting for him to respond when suddenly, the sound of dishes stopped. "He comes here?" Maria asked, crossing the short distance from the kitchen table to the living room.
"Yes." Brigitte responded, curious as to why this was an issue. She'd had friends come to the house before.
"He does not go into your room, understood?" Maria added before she headed back to the kitchen.
Brigitte rolled her eyes and called back, "Yes, Mama." What kind of girl does she think I am? she wondered. Although the idea of Bobby on her bed did hold a certain je ne sais quoi.
"Don't you think you're spending too much time with him before exams?" Her father's voice cut into her reverie.
Ah, finally we've arrived at the point. "Papa, I can handle this. I'm still studying every day."
"I know, I just don't want you to get too distracted. You've worked hard for a long time for this."
"Papa, please, I can handle this." Brigitte reiterated.
Her father sighed and continued in a soft voice, despite her protestations, "It'll already be hard enough for you as a woman and being from a working family… If what you want is to be a engineer, don't let this distract you."
Before Brigitte could reply, Maria's voice rang through the house, calling them to the table for dinner. Brigitte stood and began towards the kitchen, but Philippe caught her hand. "I know you like him. Just… be careful."
"Papa… It's fine. Really. Stop worrying about me." Brigitte replied.
There was a long pause as their eyes met. In her father's look, there was a mix of emotions that Brigitte could not quite identify. Sadness? Pride? Before she could consider it much longer, he squeezed her hand. "Come on, let's get some dinner."
Brigitte's week so far had been nothing but a series of escalating frustrations.
On Monday, her chemistry lab partner had been his usual jerk self, constantly questioning her ability to do even the most simple of procedures and calculations. This had continued until she snapped at him, bringing the room to a hush. She was thus rewarded by being asked to stay after class for a lecture on how it wasn't ladylike to yell at her lab partner and how, as a woman, she needed to let the men lead the experiments when they wanted to and not argue.
Then on Tuesday, she received a poor score on her math practice exam and was asked to stay after to discuss it. This lead to the teacher insinuating that maybe this path just wasn't right for Brigitte. As usual, it was heavily implied that her poor performance was due to her gender alone, and thus tutoring would be of little help. As she had walked home that night she had cursed her seeming inability to remember the trigonometric identities.
And today she was stuck inside, on a beautiful evening, studying her most hated subject: history. She had always found memorization difficult, being more attuned to problem solving than rote methods of learning. And history was just one big exercise in memorization.
She stared blankly at the list of names, places, and events she needed to know about for the exam and wanted to pound the kitchen table. Why were the lives of all these dead men so damn important?
A knock at the door broke her ever-worsening state of mind. A smile broke out across her face as she realized it was just before six… and thus Bobby was here. Her spirits lifted, she rose and nearly skipped across the room to the door, opening it to indeed find Bobby on the other side.
"Good evening," he said, producing a yellow rose from behind his back.
She smiled and took it, inhaling its scent deeply. "Thank you," she said, kissing him in greeting and gesturing for him to enter.
Bobby stepped into the house and paused. He had always known that Brigitte lived more… modestly… than he did, but he wasn't quite prepared for how modestly. The front door opened up into a small living room, filled to the brim with well-worn furniture and other items. He could see past the living room to the kitchen, which, from his vantage point, only housed a simple wooden table, covered in books and papers, and a stove. There was obviously no formal dining in this house. To his left stretched a hall and he could see that it led only to two bedrooms. "Your house is very nice," Bobby said, appreciating the tidy simplicity of it all.
"Thank you," Brigitte replied as she led him to the kitchen table. He watched as she busied herself finding a glass to put the flower in. He was amazed how much he had missed her over the last couple days. Often he would find himself thinking of her at work, especially if his task was particularly mindless. He wondered what was wrong with him, how he could have fallen so hard and fast for a girl he had only met a couple weeks before.
She turned and smiled at him, placing the flower on the table, and it took all of Bobby's restraint not to reach out for her. Walking around the table, she sat at the epicenter of the books and papers and Bobby took the seat next to her.
"What are you studying?" Bobby asked, trying to read her scribbles on the nearest piece of paper.
"Nineteenth century history," Brigitte sighed. "I'm trying to memorize the terms on this list."
Bobby picked up the list she handed him, noting that she had already provided information for each of the terms. He recognized some of them from his history classes, but others were new to him. "Okay," he began. "How can I help?"
"Maybe quiz me? Ask me to define the terms?"
Bobby smiled. "Yes, okay," he said and began to read from the paper.
For around an hour they continued like this, Bobby reading a word and then seeing if Brigitte's explanation matched what she had written on her list. However, he watched as she began to get tired and frustrated, and therefore began making mistakes. And the more terms she forgot the more frustrated she became.
"Okay, what are Ferry Laws?" Bobby asked. As usual, there was a pause while Brigitte thought and Bobby read the information provided. This time, however, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Brigitte had buried her head in her folded arms on the table.
"I don't know," she mumbled. "I'm so bad at this."
He reached out and placed a hand on her upper arm. "You are smart. You can remember the words."
She rotated her head to look at him. "No, I can't! On top of that, there are all the other subjects… and the teachers questioning me because I'm a girl…" she trained off and buried her head with a groan.
"Really?" Bobby blurted out in English, before continuing in French. "Your teachers say that?"
"Yes… sometimes…" Brigitte muttered from the crook of her arms.
"Sometimes…?" Bobby prompted.
Picking her head back up, Brigitte sighed. "Nothing. What was the stupid term again?"
Bobby set down the paper and took her hand. "Tell me, please? What is wrong?"
A long moment passed before Brigitte answered him. "Sometimes I just get so tired of fighting. I wonder if it's worth it or if I should just get married and have babies like everyone expects."
"I… Brigitte," he paused, trying to translate his thoughts into French. He thought of the long hours he spent in the steel mill and how, in a lot of ways, she was freer to follow her passions that he was. "You need to do what you want. Do not do what others want… you will not be happy."
She smiled at him, weakly. "I know. I just get frustrated sometimes."
Bobby nodded. "I understand. Here," he said as he stood and walked around behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "This will help."
Brigitte let out an involuntary groan as Bobby's thumbs worked into the large, tense muscles of her back. She sat up straight, giving him better access to the tight muscles that lined the top of her shoulders and her neck. The room was silent except for the slight gasps and moans that would occasionally escape her lips when he would hit a particularly tight spot.
She shivered slightly as his fingers brushed against her neck, gathering her hair and moving it over her right shoulder, leaving the left side of her neck exposed. His fingers made long strokes down the side of her neck and she took a deep breath, relishing the moment even as her brain reminded her that they needed to return to studying.
All thoughts of history terms were suddenly forgotten as she felt his lips press against her neck, slowly working their way up to her ear. "You are smart, please believe it," he whispered. Brigitte opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder at him, before grabbing his face with her hands and kissing him. The position was a bit awkward, so she broke contact for a moment, shoving him back toward his chair.
"What's going on?" Bobby asked in English, before remembering himself and repeating the question in French.
Smiling, having understood both times, Brigitte responded, "I just think a proper study break is in order."
She then moved herself over to his lap, both of her legs dangling to one side. Wrapping her arms around him, she began kissing him again. They stayed like that for several minutes, exploring each other, until Brigitte heard the gate to the yard slam shut. With a speed that would amaze Bobby for years to come, Brigitte slid back into her chair and shoved the notes back into his hands only moments before Brigitte's mother walked through the front door, her arms full of groceries.
"Hi, Mama," Brigitte called out, maybe too innocently.
"Madame Bernard." Bobby reflexively stood. "Can I help you with the bags?"
"No, thank you, Bobby," she replied as she made her way into the kitchen.
"What is the next term?"
Bobby turned his attention back to Brigitte, and then to finding where exactly they had left off. "Um, Ferry Laws?"
"I don't know, can you give me a hint?" Brigitte asked with a smirk.
"School?"
"Oh! Compulsory education laws!" Brigitte said, and then began to rattle off facts about them until her mother disappeared into the garage. Suddenly stopping and letting out a sigh of relief, Brigitte turned to him. "While I may enjoy that method of 'studying' I don't think it will help me pass my exams," she said smiling at him. "Not to mention hearing my mama nearly gave me a heart attack!"
Bobby laughed, his face a little flushed. "Yes. To be like that when your mother comes home… It is not good."
"That's an understatement." Brigitte took the notes from him before continuing, "You might want to head out now. If she or my papa comes back in they are likely to try to interrogate you for information regarding your intentions toward me."
Bobby looked puzzled for a moment, given Brigitte's choice of words. Then his eyes grew wide. "Ah, they will ask me many questions. They will want to know if I am good for you."
Brigitte nodded. "Exactly."
"Well, maybe we will do this another day." Bobby said as he stood.
Brigitte followed, and soon they were in the garden, surrounded by the warm summer night. "Can I help with studying again?" Bobby asked, placing his hands on Brigitte's hips and drawing her near to him.
"Yes… but next time I think we need to do more studying and less kissing."
Bobby laughed. "Is it okay to kiss you now?"
"Well, we are not within a meter of my books, so yes, kiss me."
Taking her face in his hands, he complied with her request.
"Okay Bobby, just a little further… and… stop!" Brigitte called out as Bobby backed his car into the garage. Sliding into her grey coveralls, glad she had decided to wear trousers tonight, Brigitte watched as Bobby got out of the car. "This will only take a couple minutes, then we can go," she said, kicking the creeper toward the front of the car.
Bobby tried to take Brigitte into a hug, but she squirmed impatiently out of his grasp. She kicked her creeper over to the car and laid down on the wheeled board. He had to smile a little at this situation, waiting for his date to finish examining the front wheel drive system of his car before they could go out for dinner on a Saturday night. And the fact that at the moment she was far more interested in the vehicle than in him. He watched as she slid under the car, and waited for… well, he wasn't quite sure what. Finally, curiosity got the better of him. "What are you doing?"
"This is the first front wheel drive car I've ever gotten a chance to look at. I want to see how it's laid out." Brigitte called from under the car.
"Can I see?" Bobby asked, having turned himself partially upside down to peer under the car.
Brigitte turned her head to see Bobby's face smiling at her. "Um, sure. You can put on my papa's coveralls, but I only have one creeper. The other broke a few days ago."
She watched as Bobby's face went from pleased to confused. "I did not understand most of that."
Sighing, Brigitte slid back out from under the car. She walked over to the coat rack and grabbed her father's coveralls, handing them to Bobby. "These are called coveralls. Put them on so you don't ruin your clothes."
"Coveralls," he repeated as he slipped them on.
"And this is a creeper," she said, pointing to the wheeled board on the floor. "We had two, but one of the wheels broke on my papa's and we haven't fixed it yet. So one of us will have to crawl."
Bobby nodded, then a devilish smirk crossed his face. "I think we can go on yours… together."
Brigitte was about to argue about how stupid that was when the thought of Bobby pressed up against her on the narrow board stopped her in her tracks. "You know, I think you're right. Come on."
Brigitte got back on the board and scooted to one side. Once she was somewhat settled, she motioned for Bobby to get on as well. Locking her left arm with his right, she laid back and said, "Feet up!"
Feeling his weight shift, Brigitte pushed against the ground with her own feet and they slid under the car. "You can put your feet down," she said, pulling out her flashlight.
"So, what are we looking at?" Bobby asked, trying to stay focused on the car rather than Brigitte's intoxicating proximity.
"Well, see that?" Brigitte said, pointing with the flashlight toward the front of the car.
"Yes."
"That is the gear box. Normally, in a rear wheel drive car, that would be placed behind the engine, near the rear wheels. Here, it's in front. Also…" she said as her flashlight grazed across the center of the car, from front to back, "there is no driveshaft or rear differential. Everything is up front."
Bobby watched as she pointed out these parts of the car, trying in his mind to drudge up everything he knew in English about cars to translate what she was saying. "Is it good?" Bobby asked.
"Well, it means the car is lighter. And there is more interior space… But the two configurations handle differently due to the different weight distributions. I don't know that you can say it's good or bad."
"Ah," Bobby merely replied, having missed a chunk in the middle of that explanation. As Brigitte continued to talk excitedly about the underside of the car, his lack of understanding coupled with the proximity of his lips to her neck was driving him to distraction. While she was explaining the difference between a live and dead axle, he finally gave in, laying a kiss down on her neck and nuzzling her.
"Are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?" Brigitte said when she felt his lips on her. Turning to face him, she saw him smile.
"Of course I am. But you talk about the car… and you are even more beautiful."
"Uh huh." Brigitte responded with a grin. "I'm sure that must be it."
"I do not lie." Bobby whispered, laying a light kiss on her lips.
Closing her eyes and drinking in the sensation, Brigitte found herself suddenly, and quite unusually, uninterested in the car. As she dropped her flashlight and returned the kiss, she couldn't help wondering just why it was that he had such an effect on her. Bobby's hand stroked her cheek gently and Brigitte sighed into the kiss. Bobby pulled back and Brigitte felt him shift, trying to move closer to her, struggling to maintain his precarious position on the rolling board. She closed her eyes, awaiting the return of his lips on hers, when suddenly she heard Bobby let out a grunt and the creeper tilted under her.
Opening her eyes, she saw Bobby half on the ground, laughing. "That…" he paused as though he was searching for words, but then he just sighed. "I wish I spoke French better," he lamented as he looked at her from his awkward position. "And I wish… I could get up!"
Brigitte let out a laugh as she laid her hand on his chest to stop him from struggling. "Don't worry about it, I'll come to you." Pushing him the rest of the way off the creeper, Brigitte rolled herself so she was also free before launching it away. Lying on her side, she reached out for him and he met her halfway, rolling slightly.
She clutched at the rough cotton of Bobby's coveralls as they kissed. Bobby's hands slid around her, pulling her against the length of his body.
As she trailed her hands down his body, Bobby groaned, his fingers digging into Brigitte's sides. "Oh God, Brigitte," Bobby gasped in English.
Brigitte giggled, causing Bobby to pull back.
"What is it?" He sounded out of breath.
"Distracted?" she whispered, her lips mere millimeters from his.
Pulling away from her again, Bobby took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. "What? What... do you mean?"
She kissed him, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth and biting softly before answering. "It's cute." Brigitte smiled at him.
Bobby groaned and closed his eyes, trying to focus. "What is?"
"How you get too distracted to remember any French when I kiss you," she responded, pressing her lips against his again.
Bobby's mind was racing, his thoughts torn between the lithe body pressed against him and trying to understand the French said body was producing. "Damn it, Brigitte. Don't make me speak French right now..."
She grinned. "See? It's okay, I understand what you are saying well enough."
Bobby smiled and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her with him as he rolled on to his back. Brigitte, slightly surprised to find herself laying on top of him, pulled back slightly. "You're not okay with this?" he asked, still speaking in English.
"No," she breathed, in French. "No, it's… good." She smiled as his hands returned to her back, and began to trace lower. Bringing her attention back to his lips, Brigitte kissed him hungrily. She felt her blood coursing through her body and she moved her hips, almost involuntarily, against him. Bobby groaned and pushed up against her before breaking away to kiss down her neck. Brigitte noticed his hands kept stopping short of her rear, and she whispered to him, "Lower, please."
He paused, clearly uncertain of what she meant. "Your hands," she clarified, before hungrily kissing him again. She felt his hands, at first hesitant, come to rest on her. But as their kisses became more frenzied, so too did his hands, kneading her in a way she found strangely enjoyable.
She was, however, hoping to feel his hands on some other parts of her body. Her hand was moving towards the zipper on her coveralls when she heard the door that connected the house to the garage swing open. "Brigitte?" her father's voice called.
Freezing, Brigitte tried to calm her voice before responding. "Yes?"
In the pause that followed, Brigitte silently extricated herself from Bobby. "Are you under the car?" came her father's voice, incredulous.
"Yes. I wanted to see the front wheel drive system before we went to dinner."
"Oh… well, I was just going to lock up. But you can do that when you leave?"
"Yes, Papa."
"Okay. Well, have fun tonight."
"Thanks," she responded, before adding, "I'll be home by ten."
"Okay." Finally, thankfully, she heard the door shut.
Next to her, Bobby let out the long breath he had no doubt been holding. "Brigitte…" he said, shaking his head. "We must stop kissing in your house. Your parents… they are everywhere!"
Laughing, Brigitte started crawling out from under the car. "Come on, let's go eat."
"It's about time you got here! We barely have enough time to eat. Where were you?" Simone demanded as Brigitte walked into the small apartment Simone shared with her husband. The two regularly took advantage of the apartment's proximity to Brigitte's school to meet for lunch.
"I had some questions after math class… and Monsieur Pascal was patronizing as always," Brigitte responded, dropping her bag by the door before joining her cousin in the kitchen.
"Well, I'd love to help you with math… but you know how that will go," Simone offered with a laugh.
Brigitte smiled. "Yes. But I do have another essay for you to read. History this time."
"Fun. What is the topic? Oh, and chop up these vegetables for the salad," Simone said as she checked on the food in the oven.
"Compare and contrast the French and American Revolutions."
Simone nodded. "When do you want me to give it back to you by?"
Looking up, Brigitte replied, "Tomorrow, if at all possible. It's due Friday," before returning her focus on chopping all the vegetables to the same dimensions.
"Due Friday? Cutting it a little close, aren't we?"
Brigitte laughed a bit. "Just a little. But I've been… distracted."
"Bobby?"
Brigitte sighed. "Yes, Bobby."
"Just how much time have you been spending with him?" Simone asked, hefting a casserole out of the oven. "I ran into you two before you went out. And again yesterday when he visited the garage after work."
Brigitte rolled her eyes at her cousin as she tossed the vegetables into a bowl. "Simone, you sound like my papa."
"Why? What did he say?"
"That I should be concentrating on my studies and not gallivanting about town with Bobby."
Simone laughed. "Did he actually say 'gallivanting'? I can't really picture that."
"Of course he didn't… it was implied."
A moment of silence followed as the pair brought the food over to the table, sitting down and serving themselves. Finally, Simone spoke again. "He's not totally wrong."
"Who? Papa?"
"Yes. I mean… I'm so happy that you finally have a boyfriend, but…" Simone trailed off before taking another bite.
"But what?" Brigitte snapped when it was clear that Simone was not going to finish that sentence.
"Well, just don't change your plans because of him, okay?"
Brigitte huffed. "Why do you think I would? I'm not going to just drop everything just because I like Bobby."
"I know. But-"
Brigitte cut her cousin off. "I'm sick of everyone trying to tell me what's best for me! I can handle this thing with Bobby! Why is it so impossible for everyone to believe that I can spend time with him and still pass these exams? I'm not an idiot. I can budget my time."
Simone looked at her cousin for a long moment, as though just waiting for Brigitte to get it all out of her system. "That wasn't what I was talking about exactly," she said, returning her attention to her cooking.
"Then what, Simone?"
"I just… I want you to be careful of having to marry him."
Brigitte looked confused for a second before her eyes went wide. "Oh. We… we are not even close to that."
"You'll get there quicker than you think."
Brigitte paused for a moment, looking around almost conspiratorially. "Well… if we do get there… eventually… how do I keep from getting pregnant?"
Simone laughed, the seriousness of the mood breaking a little. "Well, the only way to keep from getting pregnant is not to do it."
"But you're married and you don't have a baby. You can't tell me the two of you don't do it," Brigitte responded.
"Oh, we do. But Jean… he, um, pulls out before he is done."
Brigitte looked pensive for a moment. "Huh. Well, that would make sense. And seems easy enough."
"Oh, Brigitte, no, no, no. It doesn't always work! I have a friend who got pregnant anyway doing that. And men… sometimes it happens before they expect it. Especially when they are eighteen."
Brigitte let out a sigh. "Okay. Well, like I said, we are a long ways from that."
Simone nodded while she chewed. After she swallowed, she looked back up at Brigitte with a grin. "Where exactly are the two of you?"
Brigitte gave a shy smile before answering. "You know… just kissing."
"Just?"
"Well, mostly just," Brigitte said with an uncharacteristic giggle, which in turn caused Simone to laugh.
"Brigitte, you are just about glowing. It is so cute."
Brigitte put her head in her hands with an embarrassed groan. "Can we talk about something else now? I'd hate to still be 'glowing' when I get back to school."