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A month was too damn long to be away from your boyfriend. Too. Damn. Long. You’d tried to keep in touch, but you pretty quickly ran out of quarters for the payphone, and your parents didn’t see what was so important about Belch that you keep in contact with him. When you finally arrived at home, you immediately called him, not even unpacking your bag first. “Hello?” he mumbled into the phone. You grinned. “Guess what?” you said. “My baby’s home?” “Yup. And I want to see you. Like, now.” “Well, I can do that. I’ll be there in ten.” “’Kay. Love you.” “Love you too, baby.” Less than ten minutes later, he picked you up. He actually got out of the car and you ran to him. He picked you up and spun you around, peppering your face with little kisses as you laughed. God, you’d missed him. “You miss me?” he asked, like he knew what you were thinking. “Every second of every day, babe. I missed you so, so much.” “I missed you, too. C’mon.” You got in the Trans Am, and he turned up the radio, speeding out of your neighborhood. You drove down barely paved back roads, sliding through turns and laughing as you flew over hills, your wind blowing in the wind the open windows let in. God, it was good to be back. Finally, he parked in your personal favorite spot. It was an overlook — just a hill with a view of a pasture sprinkled with cattle. You unbuckled your seatbelt and scooted over until you were basically in his lap. You sighed, just breathing with him. The radio sang to you, Bon Jovi swearing he’ll be there for some girl. You changed the station, unsatisfied. Finally, you landed on some AC/DC, and you let out a whoop, getting out of the car and running to Belch’s side. You pulled him out to dance with you, and he laughed, watching you jump up and down and pump your arms to the beat of the song. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he loved watching you move, so you didn’t mind. You mouthed the words to him: you shook me all night long, yeah you — He grinned at you and pulled you in for a kiss. You smiled up against his lips as his hands slid down and grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. “Boy, you did miss me,” you teased. “My ass, at least.” “Missed all of you, baby. You know that,” he said. “I know.” You kissed him again, harder, and he backed you up against the hood of the car, the radio still playing as you slid your tongue into his mouth. You broke the kiss as he hauled you up to sit on the hood, making you just a bit taller, Belch not having to lean down as far to kiss you. “Missed you in my bed,” he said, his lips dragging over yours as he spoke. “Under me, on top of me. Missed you so much. But you know where I missed you the most?” “Where?” “In my car. Sitting shotgun. Singing along to something on the radio. Looking at me like you’re doing right now.” It was the closest to poetry you knew he’d ever come, and you smiled up at him with all the warmth you could muster. Every bit of you belonged with him, belonged to him. “How ‘m I looking at you right now, babe?” you asked. “Like you love the fuck out of me.” “Don’t you fucking forget it,” you said, putting your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. When the kiss ended, you spoke again. “You know what I want right now?” you said. “Ice cream?” he guessed. Your eyebrows shot up. “Holy shit. I didn’t know it, but hell yeah, I fucking want ice cream. We’ll have to get some in a minute. But I was thinking, it’s been a hot minute since you gave me a hickey.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in delight. Then, he pressed a kiss right under your ear. “You miss having people know you’re mine, baby?” he murmured. You shivered just the tiniest bit. God, but when his voice got soft like that… it hit you where you lived. “Fuck, yeah. Had to walk around for weeks with nothing to say I was taken.” “Well, I can fix that.” He pulled the neck of your tee shirt down just a bit, then began sucking on your skin, just barely biting down. You sighed and hooked his hat off with one finger, trailing your other hand through his hair. After a minute, he seemed satisfied, and both of you got back in the car. You pulled down the mirror to look at your neck. It was nice and red for now, but you knew it’d turn purple by the time you got to the old-fashioned ice cream parlor on King Street. Sure enough, once you got there, your neck had bruised up nicely. You smirked at yourself in the mirror and Belch let out a sweet belly laugh. “You happy, baby?” “Mm. Yeah, I am.” You leaned over and pecked him on the lips before you both got out of the car and went inside. You both ordered a cone — strawberry for you, chocolate for him — and Belch paid, pushing your hand away from your pocket when you even barely made a move to pay for yourself. “Don’t you dare,” he said. You stuck your tongue out. “I’ll get us next time,” you said, like you always did. “No, you won’t,” he said, just like he always did. It wasn’t a real argument, not after all this time. If you still thought that he’d ever let you pay for yourself, you had another thing coming. He’d pay for you even if it meant there was nothing left for him — it was just the kind of man he’d been raised to be. He wasn’t perfect, but damn, if he didn’t try to be for you. You both took your ice cream outside, where you sat on a concrete bench, side by side under a huge red sun umbrella. You threw your legs over his lap and he put his arm around you. People stared, but they always did when one of the boys in the gang was loving on someone. It was like people thought they were incapable of it, just ‘cause they picked on people and liked starting trouble. One lady stared for far too long. Both you and Belch sneered at her at the exact same time, then laughed when you saw each other’s face. He kissed your temple, pulling you closer. “You happy, baby?” he asked. He was always asking. “Yeah, babe.” And you always were, with him.