I didn’t want to dream about Lindsay Lohan or getting my butt kicked. Amanda Bynes dressed as the highway patrol, pulling him over to give him a traffic ticket. Lindsay Lohan kicking his butt on the sidewalk after he tried to take her picture (pure fantasy). Whenever my brother, McGillicuddy, was home from college, he told Dad and me at breakfast what he’d dreamed about the night before. I’d just had a closer encounter with Sean! Even if it was only in my dreams. But maybe she hadn’t heard me over my alarm clock blaring Christina Aguilera, “Ain’t No Other Man.” “Sorry, Mom,” I told her photo on my bedside table.
“You ass!” I sat straight up in my sweat-soaked bed, wiping away the strands of my hair stuck to my wet face.
Maybe he was just mouthing words, pretending to say something sweet I couldn’t catch. I still couldn’t hear him, though the boat motor and the wind hadn’t gotten any louder. What’d you say?” I know how to draw out a romantic moment. His blue eyes, lighter than the bright blue sky behind him, seemed to glow in his tanned face. All the boys ate out of my hand, I tell you. “I’m there!” I exclaimed, because I was nothing if not coy. He shouted over the noise of the boat motor and the wind, “Lori, when we’re old enough, I want you to be my girlfriend.” He didn’t even care the other boys could hear him. Sean smiled down at me, his light brown hair glinting golden in the sunlight.
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