Okay, I was nervous. And a little bit excited, or I don’t know if excited was the right word. Exhilarated maybe. I’d never known anyone like him. Someone so brazen and forward, who constantly kept me guessing what he was thinking or going to say next. I had to be on my toes to keep up with his wit during our verbal sparring matches. It also left me a bit intimidated, which had me feeling anxious as well. He was going to be invading my personal space, and I just knew he would barge right in, etiquette and propriety be damned, and start dissecting my life based on what he saw. What would he see when he walked in here?
For once I was thankful that my mother had no qualms about leaving me to my own devices most nights. I could only imagine how that introduction would go from both ends if she were here. She would reaffirm every WASPy stereotype and pre-conceived notion he had the moment she turned down her nose at him and did what she did best, which was to make the people around her feel small.
I didn’t want him to walk into my house and only see all the differences dividing us that everyone else would be more than happy to point out. Before I could worry about it any further, the doorbell rang. I took a deep breath and told myself to relax. I couldn’t change my last name or where I lived or the parents I was born to, but that wasn’t all that made up who I was. He’d either get that or he wouldn’t, and if he didn’t, then it was his problem, not mine.
Not wanting to leave him standing out there any longer, I hustled to the door, pausing to draw in another deep breath and tuck my hair behind my ears before I answered it. I was met by his typical flippant demeanor.
“I was expecting to be greeted by the butler. I’m a little disappointed I don’t get to call anyone Jeeves.”
“Sorry, no butler. Just me.”
“Somehow I think I’ll get over it.” He winked. “That is if you don’t make me stand out here all night.”
“Right.” I pulled the door open wider and stepped back to let him by, closing the door behind him.
“Nice.” His eyes scanned the foyer.
“Uh, thanks.” I tried to look at it from his perspective, taking in the pristine white and grey marbled floor. The stark white walls, hung with various paintings and artworks. The gaudy gold chandelier overhead and the elegantly curving staircase. It was beautiful, but cold.
“I was in the kitchen, getting some snacks. Do you want anything?”
“Sure. Snacks would be good.”
I led him to our state of the art, custom designed kitchen and then pivoted around. “What would you like?”
“Do you have beer?”
“I, uh …”
“Relax, I’m kidding. What do you have?”
“You can check the fridge. Help yourself to whatever and I’ll go see what we have in the pantry.”
I came back with a large bag of the same kale chips I took in my lunch, a tin of some gourmet cookies, rice cakes and some whole grain crackers. Kellen was drinking from a bottle of sparkling juice, rummaging through the contents of our fridge. He closed it and turned when I set my haul on the counter.
“The state of your fridge is dismal.” He took one look at what I’d grabbed. “And I see the pantry isn’t much better.”
“What do you mean?” I frowned. “We have a lot of food.”
“Yeah, healthy shit. Not snacks.”
“Fruits and vegetables are good snacks. Besides, I grabbed cookies.” I grabbed the tin and waved it at him.”
He snatched it from me, popped it open and shoved one of the cookies in his mouth. “Hate to break it to you, but these aren’t cookies. I don’t know what the fuck they are.”
“They’re chocolate, coffee, almond wafers.”
“This is the shit you eat all the time?”
I nodded.
“Shit, now I feel bad for you.” I was about to insist that I liked my food just fine, but he strode toward me with purpose and determination. “This isn’t gonna do. Come on.”
“Come on, where?”
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me after him. “Snack run.”
“I don’t need snacks though,” I skittered after him, my wrist still caught in his grasp. “You can go if you want something different.”
“Nope. If I have to sit here all night and watch you eat that stuff, I’ll be too depressed to get any work done.”
“Fine, then I’ll just go change real fast.” He let my arm go and ran his eyes up and down my body.
“Why do you need to change?”
“I’m not dressed to leave the house.” I hadn’t wanted him to think I put anything special into my appearance for him, so I was in my yoga pants and a Tigers Cheer shirt. I had light make-up on and my hair was pulled into a top knot.
“You look dressed to me.”
“Not to go out.”
He looked at me confounded. “We’re going to the grocery store, not Red Lobster.”
“I know,” he smirked at my annoyed tone, “but there are people at the grocery store. I’m not put together.”
He barked out a laugh. “What exactly do you have to put together? I’ve got some duct tape in my car if you need to hold your shit in place.”
I shoved his shoulder hard. “You’re not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.” Right that’s why he was still laughing. “I’m genuinely concerned for you now.” He cringed. “You’re too young for your shit to be falling apart already. Is it like a medical condition?”
“Is your immaturity a medical condition?” I shot back. “And I can assure you, my shit is not falling apart.” I wasn’t even sure what shit we were referring to, but mine was most assuredly in perfect working order.
“Come on, little miss princess. You’re obviously in desperate need of my help.” He grabbed my hand again and I tried to tug it free, my efforts futile as he dragged me toward the door.
“I am not,” I stomped my feet down but my slippers slid across the marble.
“Yes you are. You need your perfect little bubble burst in a bad way, and it just so happens I’m the perfect guy to do a little popping.” He made a popping sound with his mouth and then the corners turned up in an obscene smile. I didn’t even know a smile could be obscene, but his was, the way his eyes and mouth worked together to convey his thoughts.
“Let’s get one thing very clear. You will not be popping anything.”
“Is that because it’s already been popped?”
My eyeballs about popped out of my head as my face turned cherry red. Damn it, now I was thinking of cherries.
“That is none of your business,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Okay, okay,” he backed up a step, raising his hands in a placating gesture, while amusement still danced across his features. “Touchy subject, I can tell, but if it makes you feel any better, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Won’t tell anyone what?”
“That you’ve never, you know …” He waggled his eyebrows.
“How would you even know? I didn’t answer you.”
“You didn’t have to. Your face did, but don’t worry. I promise your secret’s safe with me. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Of course it’s not,” I exclaimed. “There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin!”
“So you are.” He said in an aha voice.
“Agh!” I let out an aggravated cry of frustration and then grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out the door. “You’re impossible.”
“You say impossible, I say charming.” He shrugged ad took over leading me to his car–an old, faded black hunk of metal on four wheels. I didn’t want to insult him by asking if it was safe, but I really was a bit concerned I was about to climb into a death trap.
“I doubt anyone has ever mistaken you for charming,” I snorted, right as he reached for the passenger door and pulled it open for me. Okay, that was kind of a gentlemanly thing to do. Jeremy didn’t open doors for me.
I slid into the passenger seat, making sure it at least had seatbelts, while he walked
around and folded himself behind the wheel. He started it up with a loud growl that I wasn’t sure sounded normal, and immediately the stereo blasted to life, the lyrics of a Rise Against song blaring from the speakers. His hand shot out, cranking the volume down to a tolerable level that was less likely to cause deafness.
I started drumming on my leg as he pulled the car out of the circular drive. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over at me. “You like Rise Against?” His surprise was blatant.
I shrugged. “Am I not allowed to?”
“Well you do listen to Taylor Swift,” he teased.
“Shut up. Don’t hate, T Swizzle is hardcore.”
He laughed and I couldn’t help the smile that broke out on my face. He didn’t give me a bad time for the rest of the drive, content to let the music fill the silence between us. I didn’t mind at all. The closest grocery store to my house was about ten miles, but we almost never shopped there. Mom preferred The Fresh Market in Myrtle Beach. That had nothing to do with why I refused to get out of the car when Kellen pulled into the parking lot of the regular supermarket though.
“You coming?” He ducked his head back inside the car after he’d already gotten out.
“No.” I sat there with my arms folded across my chest.
“Why the hell not?”
“I already told you. I’m not dressed to be out in public. I have slippers on for crying out loud.” I glared at him.
“Not this again,” he sighed, slamming his door, and walked around to mine. He yanked my door open, and before I could react, he’d bent down, un-clicked my belt and hauled me out of the car and over his shoulder.
“Put me down.” I beat on his back. He slammed the door shut and carried me with ease across the parking lot as if it was perfectly normal and acceptable. I continued to protest and he continued to ignore me until we stepped through the sliding doors. I quit making a scene and he slid my body down the front of his, setting me on my feet.
“I hate you,” I hissed.
“Right, because I’m the impossible one.” He rolled his eyes and grabbed a cart.
Since I was already inside and it wouldn’t do any good to go back out and stand in the cold and dark, I followed him to the junk food aisle.
“What do you want?” He looked at me. “We have to get Oreos because you made me want cookies. We can grab some real chips too. I’ve got like sixteen bucks cash on me that I made in tips tonight.”
“Unh uh,” I shook my head. “I can’t let you pay.”
“Why the hell not?” He sounded almost offended.
“Because, I invited you over to do homework. I’m the hostess. I’m supposed to provide the snacks.”
“And you did. They were just shitty snacks.”
“Exactly. That’s why you need to let me pay. I feel bad that you had to drive out here because I don’t have anything you want.”
The corners of his mouth tugged upward. “I never said you don’t have anything I want.”
I smacked his arm. “Knock it off. You know what I meant.”
“Fine, but I was the one who chose to drive us out here. Therefore, my idea, I can pay.”
“No.” I shook my head. “The only way I’m letting you get anything is if you let me pay.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he groaned. “Do you always have to be so difficult?”
“It might seem silly to you, but please just let me get the snacks. If we work on the project at your place, you can provide them.”
“No deal. We’re not going to be working at my place. So I let you get the snacks this time, but next time I bring them.”
“Fine. I can live with that.”
“Okay, now I’m going to ask you again, what do you want?”
I looked at the shelves and then back to him. “I don’t know. I don’t really eat this stuff. What do you like?”
He reached forward and grabbed two bags of Doritos. “Spicy or Cool Ranch?”
“Get both.” I grabbed the bags and tossed them in our cart. “What else? Do we need dippy stuff?”
“If by dippy stuff you mean salsa and queso, then yeah.” They had jars lining the shelf. “Mild, medium or hot?” he asked.
“Oh, I have a really good recipe for homemade salsa. We could get the ingredients and make it ourselves.”
He gave me the little frown that meant he thought I was being unreasonable.
“What? It’s good.”
“You’re missing the point of tonight. We’re not doing healthy, homemade. We want the shit in the jar. So, mild, medium or hot.?”
“Fine. I like it spicy.”
“Good to know.” He grabbed a jar of extra hot salsa that promised to set our mouths on fire and one of the cheeses that I was pretty sure wasn’t real cheese.
“Oreos now?” I asked.
“Yeah, we can go get Oreos now.”
We found the aisle with the packaged cookies and he grabbed a pack of double-stuffed.
“What about those peanut butter ones?” I pointed at the cookies next to the Oreos.
“You want Nutter Butters?”
“I don’t know. Are they good?”
He tipped his head back. “You’re killing me.” Then he grabbed a pack and tossed them in.
“What?” I asked confused as he started to walk away.
“You’ve never had fucking Nutter Butters. Are you even from this planet?”
I gently rammed the cart into the back of his legs.
“Hey!” He turned on me. “Don’t get sassy with me.”
I stuck my tongue out when he turned his back to me again.
“So there’s got to be some junk food you’ve had before that you actually like.”
“I’ve had junk food before. I just don’t each much of it.”
“Well, there’s got to be something you like.”
“I like ice cream,” I admitted. “But I don’t have it often.”
“I can work with that.”
I followed him over to the freezer section.
“Pick your poison.” He waved his arms Vanna White style at all the options.
I started to reach for a pint sized carton of Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough.
“Unh, unh, uh,” he stopped me. “Go big or go home.” He steered me toward the larger tubs.
“I can’t eat that much ice cream and I doubt you can either.”
“You have a freezer don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Right, then. What kind?”
After we’d added the unnecessarily large tub of cookie dough ice cream to our cart, he insisted there was one more thing we needed, and led me through the aisles until he found it. He grabbed a jar of maraschino cherries from the shelf and set it in our cart. I gave him a hard look.
“What?” he asked innocently. “It’s fruit. You’re all about fruit and you can’t have ice cream without a cherry on top. The cherry’s my favorite part.”
“I’m sure,” I muttered and then pushed the cart toward checkout. We passed by the candy display and I stopped, but then thought better of it, considering we already had enough sugar in the cart to induce a diabetic coma.
“Oh come on, you know you want to,” he urged.
I stopped, looked back at the shelf of sweets and then reached for a bag of peanut butter M&M’s, but was stopped when he grabbed my hand and ‘tsked’ me.
“Thought you’d learned by now.” Instead of grabbing the normal size bag, he grabbed the giant bag.
My stomach and teeth were already hurting.
“Are you hungry, you know for something besides all this?” I asked him, thinking it might be better if we had real food.
“I ate dinner, but I’m a guy so I can eat again.”
“Okay. How about we grab a pizza?”
After going back to the freezer section and having a five minute debate about pizza preferences, we grabbed two and then finally made it to the checkout.
We were in line when my phone buzz
ed with a text message from Jeremy asking how homework was going. I texted him back a quick fine, feeling slightly guilty. I slid my phone back in my purse and then paid for our stuff. Somehow Kellen managed to carry all of the bags out to the car himself and then we were on our way back to my place.
Eleven
Kellen
September 9
Senior year …
Shae’s phone buzzed several times in her purse on the drive back to her place, but she ignored it.
“So, does good ol’ Jer know what you’re up to tonight?” I couldn’t help myself.
“Yes,” she replied sharply. “I have no reason to lie to him.”
“Right. Of course. I just can’t imagine he’s all that cool with this.” I pulled into her drive and my car made a choking noise as if even it knew it didn’t belong here.
“It doesn’t really matter. Either he trusts me or he doesn’t, but he has nothing to worry about.” She made sure she was looking me in the eye to get her point across.
We carried the sacks inside, depositing everything in her fancy as fuck kitchen.
“We got all this stuff. Now what?” she asked cutely.
I started pulling everything from the bags. Shit, we bought a lot. A lot more than my measly sixteen bucks would have gotten us. I felt like a chump. “Maybe you can turn on the oven for the pizzas and we can snack on chips and salsa while they cook.”
She hit like fifteen fucking buttons on the oven that I swore was probably going to turn into some Transformer Decepticon, and then stuck the pizzas in, setting a timer.
“Where do you want to work? We can go to the living room, the den or the study.”
“Hold up, what the hell’s the difference between the den and the study?”
“Um, the den has couches and another TV. The study has a desk and a computer and a lot of books.”
“Does this place have a dungeon too?” I joked.
“No dungeon, but it does have a big cellar. All that’s down there though is wine and a bunch of old stuff.”
“Alcohol, now you’re talking. I say we head to the cellar.”
“No alcohol. No cellar.
“Fine. What about your room?”
Anywhere But Here Page 8