Summer Fling (Players of Marycliff University Book 1) by Jerica MacMillan

door.  

    "Mom, it's me." Her voice carried through his open window as she walked in the door. The door shut firmly behind her and Lance was left alone in his car in front of a strange house.  

    He had not expected this. If he had, he would've brought a book or something. He picked up his phone and tried to check his email to pass the time. It took forever to load since they were apparently on the edge of civilization. No surfing for funny YouTube videos to pass the time. He started trying to read something he'd downloaded in the e-reader app on his phone, but that didn't hold his attention. He played a game for a few minutes before that got boring, too.

    Abby had been inside for twenty minutes now, and he hadn't heard anything. He wiped away a drip of sweat running down the side of his face. His tongue felt sticky and he was going to need to pee soon. But apparently Abby's mom wouldn't welcome his presence inside her house. How much longer was Abby going to take?

    Sighing with irritation, he tried another game. Another ten minutes went by without a sign from Abby. At least his white shirt wouldn't show obvious sweat stains in his armpits. He really had to pee now. There were lots of trees in the yard. Tempting, but what if Abby came out before he finished? He did not want her to catch him peeing in her mom's yard.

    He tried to ignore the growing pressure, but with nothing holding his attention very long it became increasingly difficult. Even his irritation was giving way to the growing demands of his bladder. He got out of the car and stood up to see if that would help.  

    Nope.

    Lance laced his fingers behind his head, trying to wait as long as possible. This wasn't working.  

    He walked up the bare concrete front steps. This place was more utilitarian than even his own house. Three concrete steps with just enough room at the top for one person to stand in front of the door. No porch, no overhang, no awning.  

    Not even comparing this place to his house was distracting enough. He lifted his hand to knock and hesitated. Abby had been pretty clear that she wanted him to wait outside. But, damn it, he needed to pee. Now.

    He knocked firmly three times.  

    "Calm down, Mom." Abby's voice came through the door, slightly muffled but definitely her. She opened the door just enough to look out and talk to him. "Hey. What's up?"

    Seriously? That's all she was going to say? "I need to use the bathroom."

    "Oh, God. I'm so sorry. Of course you do." Abby pulled the door open all the way and pointed to his right. "It's over there, first door on the left."

    Lance went straight for the door she indicated, relieved to make it to a bathroom. It was clean, which was nice. He wouldn't have cared much if it were dirty and covered in wet towels at that point as long as it had a working toilet. The linoleum had started to peel up around the back of the toilet next to the bathtub, like water had splashed out of the shower there too many times. He almost groaned in relief.

    He could hear voices through the door. It sounded like Abby was arguing with her mom, but was trying to keep it down so he couldn't make out the words, just the tone. The flush of the toilet and the water running in the sink drowned out even that. When he opened the door he caught Abby saying, "No, Mom," and then they both went quiet.  

    Lance came out of the hallway and stood by the wall, feeling awkward. He'd come through the living room, but hadn't noticed much on his way to the bathroom.  

    The dark brown carpet appeared worn through in spots, like the entryway and where it met the linoleum in the kitchen. A sofa and loveseat sat in front of an older TV on a cheap entertainment center that you can get at any big box store. The furniture, too, showed signs of wear at the edges and in the seats that were sat in the most. It was clean, though, and uncluttered.  

    Abby's mom stood in the kitchen on the other side of the living room, leaning against the