“You do look tired,” he tells me, running a hand up my thigh.
I manage to smile at him, and turn the conversation around. “So how was your party?”
“Same crap as usual, although I didn’t make as much money thanks to Nash’s race. Can you explain to me why the hell anyone would drive an hour and a half out of town to watch a bunch of meatheads drive down a road? I swear to god, this town is so back ass whack as fuck.”
I glance over Angel’s shoulder to the table where Nash is sitting. He’s staring right at me and when he sees me he gives me a sad smile and for some reason, it makes me want to cry. I’m getting attached to him in some weird way and being around him, or apparently just looking at him, makes me feel vulnerable and fills me with some kind of strange yearning. Looking at him makes me want to feel happiness and stability like I used to before my entire world crumbled around me. Could have been that damn car ride. Could have been how safe I felt in his arms.
When I showed up to photography class he immediately knew that something was wrong. I told him it was nothing but he guessed it had something to do with my dad. Which was not good, because I started crying. Thank god it was lecture day and we were watching a film about Dorothea Lange. I spent the hour silently crying, leaned up against him, his hand making lazy circles on my back letting me know he was there but not asking me to talk about it. I don’t know what it is about him that turns me into an emotional wreck. He’s gotta think I’m a psychotic mess.
I look at Angel, trying to answer his question about the race but not coming up with any words.
“I’m just happy you showed up here,” he carries on with his one sided conversion. “Carver’s more tolerable with you in it. But seriously, that kid’s taking up too much of your time. How many more of these assignments do you gotta get through?”
“It’s the entire semester, Angel.”
“I feel really bad for you,” he tells me with a pout.
“It’s fine.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not fine. You don’t gotta act like it is. Harley told me about the fight you and Nash got into in front of the entire class last week. I know how much you hate the kid.”
I shrug my shoulders. I can’t explain it to myself, much less Angel, but for sure I don’t hate Nash.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, his pierced eyebrows pushed together with concern.
“Yeah, I’m just out of it.” I force a smile and wrap my fingers up with his that are still lingering on my thigh. He pulls me to him and leans in, kissing my jaw and slowly making his way to my lips. It feels nice, he’s such a good kisser. What he does to me blows all of my previous kisses out of the water.
“I have a couple meetings after school, but can you come over for a while after I’m done?” he asks, his lips resting on my ear, making it impossible to say no even though I’m not really in the mood to be with anyone – not even Angel.
“Sure,” I tell him. “I’m working ‘till seven. You can pick me up.”
“Perfect.” He gives me one last kiss before standing up and leaving the cafeteria. I watch him go thinking I have to pull myself together. I’m gonna blow it with him if I can’t even return texts and I don’t particularly want to hang out with him.
“You guys are so damn cute,” Tatum says from across the table where she and Brandon are both smiling at me. “You should have seen him on Saturday night…checking his phone every fifteen minutes for a text from you. Never thought I’d see the day when something was more important to him than his grades and extracurricular activities. You must be doing something right.” She wags her eyebrows at me.
Brandon stands and says, “I’ll let your girls talk,” before heading over to the football player’s table and taking a seat by Nash.
“I don’t know what that would be. I’ve barely talked to him since we decided to give this whole thing a shot.”
“Maybe that’s it. I mean, the fact that you’ve been so unavailable. He was wigging out on Saturday. He was actually worried that something was going on with you and Nash.” She pauses to laugh at the absurdity of her own comment. “Can you imagine that… you and Nash. The kid has lost his damn mind.”
“Yeah, I mean, no. Obviously there would never be anything going on with me and Nash. He couldn’t have actually been worried about that.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t think he was until everyone that was at the race showed up and you weren’t with any of them and hadn’t called either of us to come get you. And then, of course Jolee made a point to tell him you left with Nash. Which he already knew but you know… the bitch made it sound like it meant something.”
“His dad made me do that. Which was totally uncomfortable. Pretty sure he wanted Summer to leave with him and I would have voluntarily gotten in a car with Jolee just to get a ride to Angel’s.”
“I told him it couldn’t have been your choice. Anyway, don’t worry about it. Angel knows you’re smart enough to see through Nash’s crap. And, by the way, no one seems to want to listen to me, but Summer is too. There’s nothing going on between the two of them.”
“Maybe not, but they’re close. Have you not noticed how excited they get when they see each other?”
“Yeah, I have. I think Summer’s just going through some kind of rebellion and Nash is her partner in crime. I’m sure he gets a kick out of corrupting her and he’s probably the only person she’s comfortable being bad around because she doesn’t really care what he thinks of her. Plus, I mean, he is fun. Most of the time.”
I think Tatum is seriously discrediting the depth of their relationship but I don’t have energy to waste thinking about trivial crap. “We should get out of here,” I tell her, glancing at the clock and standing with my tray full of food that I haven’t touched.
We dump our food and then walk to where Brandon is waiting for her, talking to Nash. He wraps his arm around her and they leave the cafeteria. Nash and I silently follow them. His hand brushes against mine and it sends a warm sensation up my arm. I look at him and he’s giving me the same sad smile he gave me in the cafeteria.
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
“You’re not,” he whispers back. “But you’re gonna be okay.”
I can feel the overload of emotions creeping back in, so I turn my eyes from his, pinching them closed to hold back my tears. “I’ll talk to you later,” I manage to mutter before taking a sharp right and disappearing into the bathroom.
In the stall I let myself cry. I feel like my life is falling apart, like I don’t even know who I am or who I’m supposed to be any more. Everything that I knew, even just a few days ago, I’m now completely unsure of. More than anything, I just want to be alone. I want to disappear until I get my head back on straight.
What’s messing with my head more than anything is why Nash… his words, his presence, his touch…is the only thing that’s currently able to make me feel unbroken.
Angel shows up before my shift is over which I hate because I’m dressed in a tight-ass referee’s uniform and still in Bambi mode – which is the happy, eager-to-serve character I pretend to be just to get through these shifts- and I don’t want him to see me this way. It makes me self-conscious and I feel like a total bimbo and I’m sure it makes him question what the hell he’s doing with me.
When I see him, I wave, then hightail it to the back and beg Tatum to clear my tables for me. “I don’t know why you’re worried about him seeing you dressed like this. Like it’s gonna do anything but give him a big boner.”
“You’re so gross,” I tell her.
“God, you’re right. Angel with a boner…” she shivers but agrees to take over for me.
As I change back into my regular clothes I consider that the whole boner thing is probably part of the reason I don’t want him seeing me like this. I want to be with him tonight, but considering the way I reacted last time he touched me, I’m nervous that I’m gonna freak out again.
I pull out my phone and call my
mom. When I talked to her after school, she was doing better. I told her she should come up here and have dinner, that she could use a couple of hours away from her sister, but she said that would require getting out of her pajamas which she didn’t want to do.
“Hey baby,” she says, sounding exasperated.
“Hey, mom. How are you?” I ask her.
She doesn’t answer, just throws the question back at me. “How are you?”
I roll my eyes. How does she think I am?
“You just rolled your eyes, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Yes you did. Because it was silly of me to ask you how you are.”
“Okay, I get your point – you’re fine, which actually means you’re sad as hell and about to pull your hair out because LeeAnn has been up your ass all day.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m done with work. Do you want me to come home?” I ask, half hoping she says yes so that there is no chance I’ll deter Angel with my crappy attitude and breast phobia.
“Of course not. You should take every opportunity you can to get out of this house. I’m gonna tell LeeAnn I’m going to bed, steal a bottle of her wine and watch Netflix. I don’t even want you here.”
I smile. She’s totally bullshitting me but at least she still has her sense of humor. “Well good, because I don’t want to hang out with you either.”
She laughs. “Have fun with Angel and come say goodnight to me when you get home.”
“Okay. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, baby,” she says before hanging up.
I try to put her and my dad out of my mind as I head out to Angel. He and Tatum are at the bar chatting and his face lights up when he sees me. I smile back at him, telling myself I should be excited to be with him. If it weren’t for all the bullshit my dad’s putting us through, I would be.
“You ready?” he asks when I get to him.
“Yep,” I say, waving bye to Tatum and following him out the door.
We get into his Odyssey, which is not the coolest vehicle ever, but works when he has to tote his synth boards and instruments around.
“You seem like you’re in a better mood,” he says, taking his eyes off the road to smile at me.
“For sure. Traipsing around in tight spandex for four hours always lifts my spirits.”
He laughs. “If you hate it so much, why do you do it?”
Angel’s never had to work. I never had to either. Not until we moved here and my dad stopped supporting us. “Umm… money?”
“You could get a job at the gas station, or Country Market. Pretty sure they’re hiring at the theater.”
“I made eighty bucks in tips tonight, I’d have to work triple my hours to make that much at the theater. I can handle feeling like a bimbo for a few hours. Plus, it’s about the only time I see Tatum anymore.”
“I don’t think you should sell yourself out just to make a few bucks, but, yeah, Tatum’s either MIA or attached to Brandon so I get that part. They literally don’t leave each other’s side. I didn’t think she’d be so obsequious. It’s kind of sad.”
“I don’t know, I mean she’s happy. What’s wrong with that?”
“Why does she need him to make her happy? Why can’t she just be happy on her own? I mean she literally jumped out of one relationship and into the other. I just think it would have been healthy for her to take some time off to figure out who she is and what she wants.”
I laugh out loud at that. “You don’t think Tatum knows exactly who she is and what she wants?”
“I just think she should give herself a chance to be more than some guy’s girlfriend.”
This is not going well. He’s pissing me the hell off and I want to slap him. Which is typical Angel behavior but I don’t know if I can react to him the way I normally would, now that we’re…. trying to date or whatever.
“Clearly, she’s more than some guy’s girlfriend and I think she’s more herself than she ever was without him. Sometimes relationships are good for people and they’re obviously good for each other.”
“Calm down, Presley. I’m not trying to piss you off. I just think some space is good for every relationship, even a perfect one like Tatum and Brandon’s.”
“I really don’t think you’re the authority on relationships seeing how you’ve never been in one,” I mutter as he pulls into his garage.
He turns the engine off and I can feel him staring at me so I have no choice but to stare back at him. “You’re right- I don’t know. But I’m trying to figure it out… with you.”
I nod at him, a smile overcoming my grimace. “So far, you’re not doing so great,” I tease him.
“What do you want me to say? I literally have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Truthfully, you’re doing just fine,” I assure him, leaning over the center council to kiss him.
We head inside to an empty house and I’m already nervous, and then he says, “You want to go up to my room?”
“Um, sure,” I reluctantly agree. I’ve only been in his actual house once and I’ve never been in his room. But I distinctly remember him telling Tatum that he only brings girls that he’s sleeping with there. He was probably being a smart ass, like usual, but I’m practically shaking by the time he opens the door. I’m relieved to see that it’s plenty big and there’s even a small couch pushed against one wall.
I pictured his personal space being all neat and organized, books lined up against the walls, a desk with a computer, posters of scientists and mathematicians on the wall. But it’s none of those things. I mean, it’s clean because I’m sure his mom keeps it that way for him; the bed’s even made. But the walls are filled with band posters, concert tickets, random drawings and photos tacked up all over. There are shelves, but they’re filled with records and CD’s, comic books and graphic novels. There’s a desk but it’s covered in paper, his MacBook thrown haphazardly into the mess.
He walks over to his turntable and asks me, “Anything you want to listen to?”
“I’m sure whatever you choose is fine,” I tell him, taking a seat on the couch. We have the same taste in music so I’m not surprised when Tame Impala starts playing.
He comes and sits by me. Facing me, he reaches out and grabs my hand and starts playing with one of my rings. “I’m not sure what to do with you,” he says nervously and it’s a relief. He’s never unsure of himself and this whole thing is making me uptight as hell – I’m glad I’m not the only one. “What do people do when hanging out with their girlfriends?”
I laugh, relaxing into the couch a little bit. “I don’t know, if I were here under the pretense of friends, what would you do with me?”
“Not have you in my room,” he admits.
“So why did you bring me here?” I ask, regretting the words the instant they leave my mouth.
He cocks his head and smiles at me. “I brought you here because I want to make out with you. But last time I tried that you told me you weren’t ready and then you took off on me. And then when we talked the other night you made it clear you would not be having sex with me. I don’t want to talk about my past with you but you gotta understand that I have no experience with anything in between. So, like I said, I’m not sure what to do with you.”
I laugh – he’s gotta be joking. “So the first time you kissed a girl you ended up having sex with her?”
I think I’m being sarcastic, but he says, “Yeah, pretty much.”
“What? How old were you?”
“Ninth grade. She was a junior. We were out of town at a robotics competition and she offered to be my first. I guess I was a late bloomer because I hadn’t even kissed a girl. That night, at the hotel, I lost my virginity and the next day she and I were still cool and it’s been like that ever since.”
“So you’re still having sex with her?”
“No. I mean it’s been like that with every girl I’ve slept with since then.”
I don’t even want to kn
ow but I’m so damn curious, I have to ask. “So you never sleep with the same girl twice?”
“What? Of course I do. I don’t have one night stands. Whoever I’m sleeping with is my friend. And when one of us is ready to move on, we’re still friends. It’s not like I’m banging a different girl every night.”
Everything inside of me is cringing. Angel has a lot of girlfriends. I wonder how many of them he’s slept with, but I’m not gonna ask.
“So is it like a thing with all you over achievers – none of you have time for relationships so you’re all in agreement that you’ll just sleep with each other?”
“Presley,” he says, disappointed.
“What?”
“You make is sound careless. It’s not like I’m Nash.”
My reaction to him talking about Nash has changed drastically. It pisses me off and I want to defend him because, honestly, I no longer see the difference between what Angel is doing and what Nash has done. Nash was right though – I don’t have the balls to tell Tatum or Angel that I care about him and I know he’s not the guy we all assumed he is. “I don’t really see the difference.”
He takes his hand from mine and looks at me like he’s disgusted. “You don’t see the difference?”
“No.”
“I respect the girls I sleep with and they respect themselves.”
“Are you sure about that? That the girls you sleep with respect themselves?”
“It sounds like you’re stereotyping based on gender which is making you sound really sexist and a little bit like a bigot; like you think guys can have sexual relationship and that’s okay, but if a girl does it, it means they have no self-respect.”
“Personally, I don’t really think it’s okay for anyone to just be sleeping around.”
He shakes his head at me. He’s making me feel like a total idiot. “It’s okay to be sexually liberated and to be sexually satisfied in a safe environment where you’re in charge of your own body… even if you’re not in love, Presley.”
A Son of Carver (Carver High #2) Page 13