It was over, and we were on our way back to my house, but I honestly didn’t know if the play had been any good or not. The whole time we’d been there, I’d been so caught up in the sensation of Mattias’s arm draped casually over my shoulders and the heat of his body warming me down to my toes that I couldn’t pay attention to anything happening up on stage. In fact, even now as we made our way through Portland’s neighborhoods, I couldn’t make my brain cooperate. No matter how hard I tried to think like a rational adult, my recently acquired reverse-aging process was raging, and my hormones were in complete control. All I wanted to do was take him inside my house the second we got there and jump him. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been this out of control with lustful urges. Years. Maybe more than a decade. I couldn’t do a damn thing about it while he was still driving, though. My cell phone beeped with a text message. Probably Zoe. She was always good about checking in with me when the girls were with their father or otherwise not with me.
