by A. R. Perry
“No repeat.” My smile is so forced it’s cramping my cheeks.
“You’ve missed quite a few classes.” A manila folder smacks on his desk. “You’ve almost reached the limit and school has barely begun.”
“What can I say…” I pick at a piece of lint on my jeans. “I have senior fever.”
His exhale is audible. Irritation colors the space between us, but he’s not getting anything out of me. His brand of “helping” did little to help last time.
“Miss Bellemore, I can’t do anything if you don’t cooperate.”
“There’s nothing to help.” I meet his gaze this time, throwing all my aggravation into the glare. “I’m missing class. And as you pointed out, I’ve already missed a few. All I need is new books and a letter extending a few assignments.”
He seems to consider my words for a few moments, his pointer fingers tapping on his desk. There must be determination in my eyes, something I lacked freshman year because this time, he gives in with a nod.
“Mrs. Jones should have your books ready for you on your way out.”
Well, at least one good thing came of this meeting. I got to learn the angry troll’s name.
“And the letter for my teachers?”
“I’ll talk to them personally this afternoon.”
“Great.” Bitterness laces my tone as I stand, dragging my backpack with me. No doubt he’ll fill their head with warnings and they’ll be all over my ass for the rest of the year.
I waste no time ducking out of his office, wondering when he’ll call my mom if he already hasn’t.
Mrs. Crabby Face Jones has a stack of books waiting for me. Without a word, I snag my books and the tardy note she has lying next to them. Jesse is in first period, no doubt waiting to rub this in my face. At least he won’t have a chance until lunch.
Groaning, I readjust the books in my hands as I make my way down the hall. When I reach the door to first period, I feel my phone going off in my pocket. Knowing it’s probably my mom and that Principal Tattletale called her, I lean my books against the wall, pinning them with my hip and dig out my phone.
I’m surprised they aren’t from my mom, but from Braden.
BRADEN: Ignoring me today?
Mom awake.
I miss u
Some of the tension releases from my shoulders when I see his mom is awake. Hopefully, this is the start of good news trend.
It wasn’t the start of good new trend.
Jesse spent all first period being an obnoxious ass. My time between periods was spent avoiding Michelle and her minions after Devon told me she wanted to talk. And by talk I’m sure she meant threaten me more.
During lunch Zari pulled me away to the library. That could have been considered a good thing if during PE. Devon didn’t inform me that the new rumor was that I have been sleeping with Braden since the beginning of summer behind Michelle’s back and now that she knows I’m avoiding her.
Clever way to spin things in her favor, I guess.
Sitting on the bus, with my music so loud I wouldn’t be able to hear an atomic bomb’s blast, I chew on my poor, poor fingernails and try to calm my rising anxiety.
So much for that paint job.
I gaze down at my chipped nail polish for all of three seconds before popping them into my mouth and munching away. This was my same nervous habit during freshman year. I got over it. Until now.
My mom doesn’t close tonight and judging from her seven texts, Principal Sawyer called her after our meeting. Another fun mother-daughter lecture.
It was that thought that had me pulling the line for the next stop. The same thought fueled me as I hopped on another bus headed toward downtown. Once seated there isn’t another thought until I’m standing in front of the hospital, gazing up at its impressive size. I don’t know what came over me, but I had to see him. Somewhere along the way he became a lifeline of sorts and right now I sure could use a lifeline.
I made my way to the floor he told me his mom was on. The hall was bustling with nurses speed walking in both directions. Some had their arms weighed down with items. Others pushed wheelchairs or held clipboards while in tow of a doctor.
The manic energy made me feel out of place. I had been in the hospital one time and that was just the emergency department when I broke my leg. Never had I spent time in the long-term rooms.
And to think, Braden has slept here every night since his mom was admitted.
I find the room with ease, using the arrows and numbers painted on the wall. Now, standing in front of the closed door, I kind of wish I had gotten lost. A tight knot deep in my stomach makes it ache. Was it wrong to barge in on him and his mom just because I’ve had a crap day?
Before I have a moment to consider that thought, the door swings open and I’m faced with a man who has to be Braden’s father. Same eyes. Same nose. Same mouth except his is turned down into a deep frown, a look that rarely graces Braden’s face.
“Oh,” I exclaim out of shock, jumping back so he can take a step out.
“Can I help you?” he asks, the words matching the annoyed look on his face.
“I was…” My eyes dart down the hall, then to the ground. “I was just checking in on Braden.”
“He’s not here.” The door clicks shut and I have to take another step backward to allow room for both of us in the hall.
“Oh.” A quick glance up tells me the frown remains on his face. “Well, I’m sorry to disturb you. I hope Mrs. DiMarco is doing better.”
Something shifts in his features. Whatever it is wouldn’t be called a smile, but at least the frown lessens. Might as well get out of here before I do any real damage. Obviously his father knows nothing about me, something Braden might want to keep that way.
“He’s at home,” his father calls as I make my way to the elevator. “But he’s catching up on the work he’s missed this week. You’ll see him Monday at school.”
I give him a tight smile and nod as I punch the button for the elevator. There’s no way in hell Braden is happy his dad is home and that he’s been forced out of the hospital. From the things he’s told me, he is way closer with his mom than his dad. No text messages from him since early this afternoon, which means his mood is most likely on par with mine.
I hop on the bus headed toward town. Now I know I have to go see him, but not for me, for him. Even though my life is in a downward spiral. Even though tomorrow will suck just as much if not more than today, I know I need to see him. If only to make sure he’s okay.
Forty minutes, two different bus routes and a half-a-mile walk later I find myself on Braden’s porch. The damn sky opened up on me halfway through the journey leaving me shaking and dripping wet. One of these days I’ll invest in an umbrella.
My knuckles strike the wood on his front door as my other hand smooths down the mess of dripping curls surrounding my face.
I’m sure I look breathtaking.
After what feels like an eternity, Braden opened the door. His face transforms from shocked to confused to elated in a couple seconds leaving me reeling. Even more so when he breaks out into a full-toothed smile that makes my stomach somersault.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe with one arm and tugging me toward him and farther out of the rain.
“I stopped by the hospital.”
His face falls. “You talked with my dad?”
All those mixed feelings meet and dread takes over. I never once stopped to think how he would feel about me meeting his dad without him there.
“Yeah, I-I stopped by to check on you and practically ran into him in the hall. You never mentioned he came home. If I knew I wouldn’t have gone, I swear. I would never step on any toes. I—”
My incessant rambling, which sounds like gibberish to me, so Lord knows what it sounded like to him, is cut short when Braden presses a soft kiss to my lips.
When he pulls back his face shows no signs of irritation. “I’m just surprised he told
you where I was. Though no doubt I’ll hear about this later. According to him family matters should stay in the family. I don’t think he realizes that the whole town knows what happened.” Braden’s eyes drift down my body taking in my soaked form for the first time. “Did you go swimming?”
I thumb at the dark clouds hovering over his house. “The weather had it out for me yet again.”
“Well come in before you get sick.” He tugs me by the straps of my backpack, planting another kiss on my lips as I kick the door shut. “Let’s get you something to change into.”
“Better be careful. I might be tempted to steal another one of your sweatshirts.”
“If you look as cute in it as the other one, you can have it.”
Braden wraps his arms around me as I let my bag fall to the ground. I barely have time to kick off my shoes before he’s kissing me and leading me toward his room. The same stab of anxiety I had last time I was here shoots through my stomach, but this time it’s soothed by the gentle way his hands roam over my back and sides.
He’s different that Jesse. He’s proven that time and time again. Deep down I know I can trust him even if parts of me are still resistant to the idea.
“Do you want to take a shower?” he asks between kisses.
My eyebrows shoot up as I lean away. “That was bold.”
It takes a couple of seconds, but when realization washes over his face, it’s with a sudden burst of panic. “Alone! Not with me. Although…” His hands run down my face, thumbs caressing my cheekbones. The kiss he plants on me is nowhere near as soft or quick as the ones we shared in the hall. No. This one is downright filthy and makes me want to accept his offer without a second thought.
Good thing he seems to have kept his senses. “Let me grab you some clothes.” He breaks away and turns toward his dresser.
I slide out of my jacket as he rummages around in the bottom drawer. I’m careful not to drip water everywhere and hang it on the doorknob.
Braden side-eyes me as he tosses the same pair of sweatpants he loaned me last time. “That shirt is making it kind of hard to concentrate let alone stay in line.”
My gaze drops to my chest. I forgot that I wore a light shirt today. The damn thing is molded to my chest, showing the lace outline of my bra and broadcasting how cold I am.
My arms snap up, crossing over my chest to cover myself as Braden laughs and tosses me a black shirt.
“That color should do a better job although I’m not entirely sure if that’s a good thing.”
“Get out.” I give him a playful nudge with my elbow, still doing my best to cover the girls.
“Best birthday present ever.” He joggles his eyebrows at me as he backsteps out of the room.
“It’s your birthday?” I really want to change but this new information is unexpected.
“Yup.” The door closes and I’m left alone in his room. A room that smells overwhelmingly like him. A room I need to get the hell out of before I make a bad decision.
I change into the twice-borrowed clothes, then gather up my sopping wet ones. Braden is in the kitchen pouring what looks to be strawberry lemonade into two glasses when I round the corner.
“Can I throw these in the dryer? If I come home in your clothes again, there will be no sweet-talking my mom into letting us hang out.”
“But I do love a challenge.” He takes the clothes from me, motioning to the pantry as he passes. “Pick out a snack.”
I hear him open a door and go downstairs as I poke my head into his walk-in pantry. The damn thing is stuffed with more than we could ever afford in a month. I spy a box of microwavable popcorn and as I’m reaching for it and idea occurs to me.
It’s his birthday, and he planned on celebrating it alone. This just won’t do. I shuffle around the spices lining the second shelf and notice he has all the ingredients to make my grandmother’s chocolate poke cake. Literally the one and only thing I can make from scratch. We used to make it every year on my birthday.
I’m setting all the ingredients on the counter when Braden comes into the room.
“What’s all this?” He reaches for his lemonade, eyeing the array of baking items on the counter.
“Making you a birthday cake.”
“You bake?”
“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s the only thing I know how to make.” My hands wrap around the sealed bag of flour. “Where’s your mixing bowls?” I toss the flour in the air, catching it in one of the few graceful moves I’ve ever made.
“Cabinet above sink.” Braden watches me move across the kitchen, face devoid of any emotion. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I want to.” I stretch up, rising on tippy-toes to reach the glass bowls neatly stacked next to a disorganized bunch of plastic Tupperware.
When I turn around, Braden has his lip pinned beneath his teeth and a deep frown marring his gorgeous face.
“What’s up?” I place the bowl on the counter and lean forward to wrap a hand around his.
After a few moments where he seems to be engaging in a staring contest with me, he sighs. “We don’t normally celebrate my birthday.”
What? My birthday is the biggest holiday out of the year. “Why not?”
“My uh…” He squeezes the back of his neck with his free hand. “It used to be a big deal to my mom. Huge breakfast. Skip day if it fell on a school day. Homemade birthday cake.”
My gaze falls on the baking items between us. “Oh.” I make a move to pull away, but his hand latches on, keeping me in place.
“Don’t feel sorry for me or her or my family. It’s a shitty situation, but she’s here. She’s alive.” His thumb rubs circles on my palm. “I love that you want to make me a cake. It just took me by surprise because I haven’t had anyone to do that for me for a couple years.”
“Well…do you maybe want to help?”
His smile is blinding. “I’d love to.”
For the next forty-five minutes I try my best to teach him the cake recipe like my grandmother showed me all those years ago. He seems to have as much knowledge in the kitchen as I do and I swear by the time we pop the thing in the oven, it looks like we got into some kind of flour fight.
“This will be the first thing I’ve ever baked,” he says as he runs a sponge over the counter where a poor egg met its demise.
“I can tell.” I’m busy rinsing the dishes to put them into the dishwasher, with my back to him. That’s how he sneaks up on me. A squeal of surprise rushes out of me as he spins me around, sloshing water all over the floor and our feet from the bowl I’m holding.
“Say I did an amazing job.” He plants a kiss on the tip of my nose.
“Terrible. Worst I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s no way to treat the birthday boy.” He plucks the bowl from my hand and drops it into the dishwasher, filling the room with the loud clatter.
“It’s not, is it?” I wrap my hands around his neck, my fingers gliding into the soft hair at the base of his skull. “How about this?” I plant a kiss below his ear, grinning when goose bumps rise under my lips.
“Closer.” His fingers tug on the curls hanging down my back.
“How about this?” My lips glide across his skin, planting kisses every few inches until I reach the corner of his mouth.
“Definitely warmer.”
When our lips meet, fire spreads out from my stomach sending miniature lightning bolts down my limbs and leaving me gooey-legged.
Good thing his body is firmly pressed against mine.
His tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips and on instinct I open for him. There’s something different with this kiss. The way his tongue runs laps around mine. The way his hands hug my sides. The heat of his body as it fuses with mine. Fear erases all of my lust and on a sharp intake, I break away.
“We can’t have sex.” The damn words fall out of my mouth before they process through my brain.
“The thought never crossed my mind.” Braden licks his lip
s and looks as if he’s fighting for control of…his own body, maybe?
With an arched brow I lean back, resting my forearms on the edge of the sink.
“Okay.” He drags a hand down his face. “It might have crossed my mind once or a couple dozen times.”
I snort on a laugh, making the most ungodly noise.
“But I’d never act on it unless you were 100 percent sure.” His forehead meets mine. “I never want you to feel pressured.”
“Have you ever…” I bite my lip. Why the hell did I even ask that? The photo of him that Michelle posted comes to mind quelling the rest of my desire.
“Yes.” He answers. I nod, glancing at the floor. Braden nudges my chin up so I’m looking at him. “I don’t sleep around despite the rumors.”
“You don’t need to tell me this.” Please tell me that the rumors aren’t true.
“I can count on one hand the girls I’ve been with. And all those sex ed classes and way too many uncomfortable conversations with my dad made me safe about it.”
“Oh. Good. Yeah. Me too.” Jesus. What am I saying?
“Good. Then you let me know when you’re ready.”
The timer on the oven goes off and I’m saved from saying anything else like maybe the fact that I slept with his best friend. I pull out the cake and set it off to the side to cool. Braden’s busy cleaning up the rest of our mess with his back to me. Like we didn’t just have a serious conversation.
Probably because he’s had it at least five times.
He doesn’t bring it up for the rest of the time spent in the kitchen. In fact, it seems like he takes extra care not to give out too many kisses or touch me more than necessary.
After he’s had a generous-size piece of his birthday cake that didn’t turn out anything like my grandma’s but wasn’t bad, I ask him to take me home. I want to make sure I’m in bed and asleep before my mom gets off work because she’ll be less tempted to want to talk about this morning.
Unfortunately, it’s the weekend, which will give her plenty of time.
And to think, this morning I was looking forward to the weekend and two stress-free days.