[text to: gazelle boy] I don’t even know what you drive
[text: Summer] a motorcycle but i borrowed Melissa’s car because she doesn’t need it tonight
[text: Summer] also it’s fucking cold tonight
[text: Summer] now where are you?
[text to: gazelle boy] coming
“Damn, I was really hoping for the motorcycle,” Summer called, emerging from the woods leading to the group camp meeting hall. “But I suppose it’s a bit cold for that.” Nevertheless, her imagination insisted on presenting her with lovely images of clinging to Isaac’s narrow waist as they sped around curves.