Lindsey wasn’t quite ready, and he was early—something she hadn’t planned for at all. The doorbell rang just as she was tucking the tail ends of her sheer black lace blouse into her blue jean miniskirt—ends she would later tie up to expose her midriff, after she was out of the house, of course. When she heard her stepfather say, “I’ll get it,” Lindsey bolted for the stairs. “That’s okay, it’s for me!” Her high heels clattered on the linoleum as she slid into the kitchen, grabbing her purse from the table and surprising her mother standing at the sink doing the dinner dishes. Lindsey knew she was going to be too late, and she was. Her stepfather was saying something about the Watchtower, and then she heard Zach say her name. “I’ll be home by curfew.” Lindsey edged by her stepfather, smiling at Zach who stood tall in the porch light. No navy whites tonight—just jeans and a soft gray shirt. “Lindsey?
