by A. R. Perry
“When the heck did you have time to tell them to make it to-go? I was standing there the whole time.”
“Wrote it on the receipt.” He’s way too pleased with himself.
“So you brought me here to torture me?”
“Of course not.” He swipes the bag with a quick thank you. “Think of it as a do-over.”
As we step out into the cold night air, Braden tugs me in closer, and throws an arm over my shoulder. My hand feels lonely without his warmth but it’s a good trade when I get to lean my head into his shoulder.
“So this was the big date, huh?”
“Not even close.”
I know where we’re headed before he even pulls up in front of the old building. A do-over. He’s taking me on a whirlwind of failed dates. Of course, had I known they were real dates, I might have tried harder not to ruin them.
Soft accordion music hits my ears the second we step inside. The man playing the instrument gives me a wink before closing his eyes and rocking to the calming tune.
The same lady who scolded me about my purse leads us to the same table, tucked away in the back that we sat in before. I make a show of hanging my purse on the designated hook, which garners a smile from her.
“I took the liberty of calling ahead to order.” Braden pulls out my chair, leaning close as I sit. “Another favorite.”
I can’t keep the smile from my face when a few minutes later a server brings me the salad that caused one of our arguments. Of course this time I might have been tempted to order something closer to the delicious-looking pasta with different colored olives that Braden has in front of him.
Almost as if he heard my thought, he reaches for a bread plate and scoops a generous amount of the pasta on it before passing it to me. “Figured that salad wouldn’t be too filling.”
“You’re setting the bar high,” I muse as I take a bite. Damn that’s good. This is probably the best Italian food I’ve ever had.
“I try.” He takes a large bite then moans. I know it’s innocent, a reaction to the amazing food because I almost did the same thing, but damn it, I don’t need those noises in my head.
The picture that Michelle posted flashes through my head and I can’t help wondering if he makes those kind of noises in bed and if she ever got him to that point.
Nope.
I shake my head. This is a light, fun date. There’s no need to get attached—not with college right around the corner. Not to mention that at any moment, he could decide I am no longer worth his time.
“What’s wrong?” Braden’s head tilts to the side as his hand slides across the table to rest on mine.
“Nothing.” Yeah, I don’t even believe the word, and I can tell Braden doesn’t either, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he gives my hand a squeeze and turns the conversation to another topic.
“The holidays are coming up fast. Does your family have any crazy traditions?”
“Not really.” Not unless you count both of us working, then coming home to a nice microwaved meal and the small gift.
The only other family I know about is my grandmother on my mom’s side. She died when I was ten. Now it’s just Mom and me against the world.
“What about you?”
A shadow passes across his face, but the second I blink it’s gone. “Um. Not really.” He uses his fork to move around the noodles. “Used to be a big deal when I was younger, but once I turned eleven it all kind of stopped. My dad is supposed to be home this year, but we’ll see.”
“What does your dad do?”
“Military.” Braden’s hand settles on the back of his neck, giving it a hard squeeze. I must have hit a nerve because he only does that when he’s stressed or nervous, I’ve noticed.
“I bet that’s hard.” I can’t imagine my mom being gone for such long periods of time.
“It used to be, but we—I’ve gotten used to it.”
“How does your mom handle him being gone all the time?” I realize I shouldn’t have asked that the moment Braden stands and pulls out his wallet. His shoulders tense and I swear I’ve never seen his posture so rigid.
“Come on. One more stop.”
We’ve barely eaten half the food on the table, but that doesn’t stop him from tossing a couple twenties down and reaching for my hand. This time though it doesn’t send butterflies pole-vaulting through my stomach. His grip is a little too hard. His stride a little too fast as we walk toward the door.
Braden, being ingrained with manners, still opens my door for me, but there is no smile on his face as he walks around the car. When he clicks his seat belt in place, he seems a million miles away.
Michelle mentioned his mom was in the hospital and after what my mom told me I have to wonder if he’s even close with her. Maybe they have a strained relationship after the accident. He’s never shared stories about her or his dad.
When we get on the highway, I can’t take the silence anymore. “Did I say something wrong?”
He doesn’t answer right away and when he does, it comes out on a sigh. “No.”
No.
That’s it.
No explanation for the suddenly chilly temperament. No attempts to further the conversation or at the very least steer it into a neutral territory. Just no.
That wall of mine starts hardening. I feel like someone is squeezing my chest. I don’t let people in often and I guess I get why now.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles once we’ve pulled off the highway and are stopped at a red light. He drags a palm down his face as he taps his head on the headrest. “Didn’t realize talking about the holidays would bum me out so bad.”
Ah. With his dad away and his mom—well there’s still a big question mark there—probably puts a damper on the holiday spirit.
I guess it’s truth time again. Maybe if I let him in a little, he’ll feel more at ease. Though it doesn’t escape my attention that this is a big step for me. I don’t share.
“You think my Christmas sounded bad? For Thanksgiving we eat something my mom brings home from the restaurant and go to bed. It’s all low-key. Lower than low-key.”
His lip tips up. “Yikes. At least my neighbor makes sure that I’m fed on Thanksgiving. She makes the best stuffing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Smuggle me some. I haven’t had a home cooked meal since I was a kid and my grams was alive.”
He shoots me a smile. “I’ll try. But it might break her heart if I tell her it’s for another girl. She’s been trying to set me up with her daughter for years.”
The thought of him with another girl causes a sharp pain to ricochet through my stomach. I do my best to hide the irritation on my face and go with a sarcastic comment. “Marry her. If her mother cooks that good, I imagine those genes were passed down to her daughter.”
“Nah.” He squeezes my hand then brings it over to sit on the center console so he can hold it. “Kinda have a crush on another girl.”
My cheeks heat and I tuck my face into my jacket so he can’t see how his words have affected me. Being vulnerable sucks.
“So besides that little hiccup back there, how’s the date so far? Scale from one to ten?”
I twist my mouth to the side, pretending to contemplate it. “Seven? I didn’t get to finish my meal so unfortunately that knocked off a few points.”
His laugh leaves him on a wheeze. “That so? Well, I guess I’ll have to make it up to you.” He rolls to a stop in front of my house, then turns off the car.
Dang. Fastest date ever. Sadness makes my stomach sink as he pushes his door open. He’s going to walk me to my door, and that’s it.
I check my phone. It’s not even nine. That will win him points with my mom.
Braden opens my door and offers his hand. As I take it, I notice a pizza delivery car roll up behind us.
“Perfect timing.” Braden says with a smile.
My grin hurts from how big it is. The boy is good.
Braden drops my hand and jogs over to meet the pizza d
elivery person as I walk up the front steps. Hopefully this time we can make it to the living room without any bruises.
As I pull out my keys, I notice a hot pink sticky note on the door. It’s my mom’s handwriting. Why the hell would she leave me a note?
Curfew extended until eleven. Xoxo
Braden comes up behind me and leans his chin on my shoulder. “What’s that?”
I hold up the sticky note. “Mom extended my curfew by an hour. Guess you do have a way with parents.”
He smacks a kiss to my neck. “I have never been happier for my special power.”
We dump our shoes at the front door and I take the pizza for safekeeping. “Should we continue our show?” I ask as I make my way to the couch.
Our show. Sounds kind of weird to say but at the same time it feels right.
“Obviously.” Braden sets the bottle of cola and a bag of breadsticks down. “Glasses?”
“Got it. I’ll throw Mom’s wraps in the fridge too.” I toss the remote on the couch. “Set it up.”
On my way to the kitchen I swing by my bedroom and pull on his—my—sweatshirt. He seems to get a kick out of it every time I wear it. It’s an odd thing to find attractive, but I’ll take those points where I can get them.
Braden’s eyes swing my way as I come back, balancing two cups in one hand and plates in the other.
“You look so damn cute with that on.” He slams his hand down on the cushion next to him. “Now come snuggle me and eat this delicious pizza I had them put way too many veggies on.”
Don’t have to ask me twice.
I pass him a plate and a cup as I sit down. The whole room smells like warm cheese and when I lean in next to him, I get a whiff of his cologne.
Perfect.
We eat and watch the show. We are already on the second season because the first had only three episodes. It’s just as odd yet somehow just as good. If someone told me a couple weeks ago, I would willingly watch a sci-fi show I would have laughed. Maybe it’s the fact that I have Braden to watch with that makes it worth it.
Once we’ve had our fill of pizza—Braden eats half the thing himself—I cuddle in closer and wrap a blanket around us. Braden drapes an arm around my shoulders and hugs me in closer, his other hand intertwining with mine.
More of my wall cracks. I guess I’ve missed this feeling over the years. After everything I hardened so much, convincing myself I needed no one. Now that he’s here…now that I remember what it feels like to hold hands and kiss and just sit in silence watching something together, I realize how lonely I was.
Fear strikes.
A deep penetrating lightning bolt pain to my stomach. I’ve let Braden in somewhere along the way. Stupid heart won over my brain somehow. But now that I have, he has the power to hurt me. To destroy me. I can’t handle that twice. And the sad truth is, we won’t make it. This is high school, that kind of stuff rarely happens.
After all, this isn’t some cheesy rom-com.
“Well that was depressing,” Braden mumbles as the episode ends.
“Yeah.” It’s all I can muster with my brain a million miles away.
“Truly kind of messed up. I don’t know who I felt worse for, the clone or the woman who lost the love of her life and now has a daily reminder.” Braden twists toward me. “Hey…you okay?”
“Hmm?” I blink hard. I didn’t realize I zoned out so hard. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Totally not fine.
His hand cups my chin, forcing me to look at him. “What’s wrong?”
My mouth opens but…nothing. What do I say? Do I tell him how terrified I am to get hurt again? Do I ask if he knows about all the shit that went down with Jesse and me? I don’t even know his favorite color, for crying out loud, and I’ve given up personal stuff about me and my mom.
The exact ammo Michelle could use if he ever let it slip.
“I don’t know your favorite color,” the words slip out as I gaze up into his eyes. Out of context, it sounds like the most random statement on the planet.
His smile is adorably confused. “That’s what put a frown on your face? Well if it will take it away, it’s green.”
I roll my eyes. “What I mean is we don’t know that much about each other, do we? This is our first official date and we’ve already done the whole make-out thing without the awkward getting to know each other phase.”
“Is that what you want?”
Ugh. None of this is coming out right. What I want is honesty. I want him to tell me he’s not going to stab me in the back and ruin the rest of my senior year. That he’ll be gentle with my heart because it’s not often I let people anywhere close to it. Not that we’re anywhere close to that point yet.
Out of nowhere Braden reaches for his phone. His thumb flies across the screen. I would be crazy mad about the fact that he’s broken off in the middle of our conversation to do whatever he’s doing, but he’s saved himself with the fact that his hand is linked with mine.
“Okay.” He places the phone between us I catch the tail end of the title before he scrolls down. Something about questions. “Two hundred questions to get to know someone. The end has a bunch of deeply personal ones, so since this is our first date why don’t we stick to the light ones?”
I can’t help but crack a smile. “This seems like a very strange way to get to know someone better.”
“No pressure. You can’t think of something, it’s right there.” His thumb taps the screen. “When was the last time you climbed a tree?”
“This is weird.”
“Just answer the question. We get through ten each and I’ll reward you with a kiss.”
“And what makes you think that’s a reward for me?” Totally is, but someone needs to keep his ego in check.
He gives me a look that screams come on before tapping the phone again. “Tree. Go.”
“Pfft…seven? I ended up getting stuck. This old tree by my grams place. Climbed too high, then got scared. My grams’s neighbor had to get a ladder and come get me down.”
“Cute.”
“Anyway.” No need to tell him that was the day I overheard my mom tell my grams that Joseph, my dad, refused to see me anymore and signed over all parental rights, which is how I found myself in the tree. I needed a place to cry where no one would see it. I grab the phone and scroll. “What’s the most annoying question that people ask you?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Can I get your number?”
“Shut up.” I shove him in the shoulder. “You’re so full of yourself.”
His hands shoot up into the air, palms out. “I swear. Sometimes I can’t walk down the street without—” I throw a pillow at his face, shutting him up.
“Ask your question.”
He tucks the pillow under his arms and glances at the screen. “What shows are you into?”
We continue for another eight questions. I learn that he’s originally from California. His aunt lives in Utah and when his dad joined the military, his mom didn’t want Braden moving around a bunch so they moved closer to her family. He says he misses the ocean more than anything, something I’ve never seen in person. I tell him about my favorite music, most of which he’s never heard of. No shock there, I like the lesser-known bands. Both of our favorite fruit is strawberries.
I don’t ask about his mom. Not that his preset questions allow me the option. He volunteers information about his dad and how over the past few years their relationship has been strained. That conversation leads into me telling him my dad is MIA. It’s weird opening up, but at the same time kind of nice. In a weird way we’re getting to know each other even more than Zari and me. Our relationship progressed over a year of working together. Never because we both wanted to get to know each other. Still wouldn’t give up my friendship with her for anything.
By the tenth question, we’ve earned our reward. I lied. This reward is everything. His lips are like a drug, worse than coffee for me, and I never, ever want to give them up.
We’re so deep
into our make-out session we don’t hear the front door open. When the lights flick on we both freeze. My mom might have lengthened my curfew and told me to go on a date with Braden, but she didn’t tell me to make out with him on the couch until—my eyes land on the clock. Great. Well past my curfew.
“Pretend to be asleep,” I whisper.
Braden has to bite back his laugh, but he does what I say, laying his head on my chest and letting out a long exhale.
I close my eyes. Seconds after I hear a throat clearing. There’s no way I’ll pull this off. I’m the worst actor in the world. Keeping my eyes closed, I focus on slow, deep breaths.
“Stella.”
Oh yeah, she sounds mad.
I let out a little groan and crack my eyes open. “Mom?” Then I let my gaze wander down to the top of Braden’s head. “What time is it?”
Braden’s hand tightens on my side and his back shakes with laughter, but his face is pressed into the fabric of my sweatshirt. I only pray she can’t see it.
“It’s almost midnight.”
“We must have fallen asleep watching TV.”
Her face says she isn’t buying it. The stupid TV has timed out, flashing through all the Netflix ads and clearly paused.
“Braden.” I poke his back. We’re in this deep, might as well ride it out.
“Hmmm?” His head turns to the side, snuggling in closer.
So not helping the situation.
“Hey. Wake up.”
He doesn’t move. What a butthead. Leaving me out to dry here.
“I’m going to change. I expect him to be gone by the time I’m done.” My mom rolls her eyes before turning and walking away.
The second her door clicks shut, Braden rolls halfway off me and tries to silence his laughter with his hand.
“Shut up.” I poke him in the chest. “You realize she can revoke tutoring rights at any moment.”
“Worth it. You are the worst actress I’ve ever met.”
“Says the guy who can’t contain his laughter when he’s supposed to be asleep.” I shove him off me and stand up, smoothing down the front of my sweatshirt.