I'll Make You Mine

by Gia Riley

  Keely grabs her purse and stands up. She looks him in the eye and says, “Your dick’s too small, dude.”

  And then she’s gone.

  At least she has standards.

  Dylan

  The next couple weeks with Zoe are incredible. Most of our days are spent together, and all of our nights. Some weekends we don’t go to sleep until the sun rises and struggle to get out of bed before dinner.

  This morning I’m making breakfast. If you consider what I’m capable of whipping up an actual meal. Coffee I can handle, so that’s on the tray. That leaves me with three options: Pop Tarts, cereal, and oatmeal. Since Zoe has all her teeth and this isn’t a nursing home, I’m going with cereal and Pop Tarts—because I can pour milk and press the button on the toaster.

  She’s still asleep, so I set the tray on the desk and climb back into bed. Her lips are parted and she has her hands tucked under her cheek. The blanket’s pulled up to her chin, and she looks more like the Zoe I fell for in high school than the sexy girl who has mastered the wheelbarrow.

  “Zoe, wake up, baby.”

  “Mmm,” she murmurs. “You want to sex?”

  Of course I do, but that’s not what today’s about. Today, I’m going to romance my girl. “I brought food.”

  Her eyes stay closed and she smiles. I hope she’s remembering all the ways I kissed her last night. “You cooked?”

  “I toasted and poured.”

  She’s curious enough that she opens her eyes. “So the kitchen’s safe?”

  “I like living with you too much to risk burning the place down.”

  Surprising me, she places her hand on the back of my head and pulls me closer. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she says with a soft kiss on my lips.

  “That was my line.”

  “Well, you’re my first Valentine. I was eager to say it.”

  “I’ve never had one either.”

  “Really?”

  “Nope. You’re my first, Zo.” Not once have I had a girlfriend on Valentine’s Day. The holiday has always been reserved for Zoe and our sweetheart dances, the one night a year she felt like mine.

  This year, we don’t have to pretend.

  “I got another one of your firsts,” she says before hopping out of bed. Only once she’s standing does she remember she’s naked.

  “Where are you going?”

  She covers her chest with her hands and crosses her legs. “I have something for you. In my room.”

  I pull my shirt off and hand it to her. It cracks me up how carefree she is in bed, but when it comes to standing, she turns every shade of crimson.

  “Thank you,” she says before running into the hallway.

  When she comes back, she’s carrying a shopping bag with two hands. “What is that?”

  “This is for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Just a couple things I picked up.”

  I can’t help but laugh because I’m positive she bought everything in the holiday section at the drug store, from every store in town. “This is all for me?”

  “It started with the bear, but it came in brown, red, and white. I couldn’t decide which was cuter, so I got all three. And then I had to pick a card, and there’s so many to choose from.”

  “So, you got a couple?”

  “Yes, I did. I came across the candy next. Chocolate and peanut butter is your favorite combination, but you like caramel, too.”

  “You got a little of everything?”

  “Obviously.”

  “What’s this?” I ask her as I pull out a long fuzzy stick with a floppy heart on the end.

  “That’s a pen. For homework.”

  She’s serious. If I try to do homework with this thing, I’ll whack myself in the face and look like a diva. But I love that it’s in my bag. “What about this?”

  Whatever it is, it makes her blush, so I know it’s good. “Open it,” she says.

  I peel back the flap of the envelope and pull out three homemade coupons. They’re cut out of red, yellow, and green construction paper. She even used markers and glitter to make them sparkle. I’ve never gotten a homemade gift before.

  “Pay attention to the colors,” she tells me.

  “Zo.”

  “Just read the paper that goes along with them.”

  Her instructions are simple, I’m supposed to pick one of each from the Kama Sutra book and cash them in. But we’ve never ventured beyond yellow.

  “Is it stupid? If it’s dumb, you don’t have to do it. You can throw them away.”

  Before she can doubt herself any more, I pull her by the shirt until she’s standing between my legs. This beautiful girl spoiled me because she wanted to, not because she had to. A kiss would have been enough.

  I open my mouth to tell her how much I love the gift, but she places her finger over my lips. “Before you say it, I know what you’re thinking. You’re not doing the red one. I trust you, Dylan. You’ll take care of me.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  “That this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

  She shrugs and looks away. “It’s just stuff from the drug store. No big deal.”

  “Baby, you used glitter and glue. You cut out the coupons and you printed nice and neat. This took time.”

  “I went too far, didn’t I?”

  “No. It’s perfect. It’s just right.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. Now sit down and eat your soggy cereal and cold Pop Tart.”

  Giggling, she sits next to me and I set the tray in her lap. Her eyes are focused on the food, and she doesn’t see the bracelet dangling from the mug until she tries to take a sip of her coffee.

  “What’s this for?”

  “It’s for you, Zo.” It’s not the usual candy bracelet she’s used to. I went and picked out some charms and had them strung together.

  Her face lights up as she checks out each one. “A volleyball, our high school mascot, a book, a stethoscope, a house, and a cup of coffee. It’s our story, Dylan.”

  “The other two are our birthstones. The chick at the store suggested that part to fill it up some more.”

  “This is so cool.”

  “There’s one more,” I tell her as I hand her another charm.

  “A heart.”

  “My heart. You own it, Zo.”

  Her fingers are shaking, but she adds it to the bracelet and then I help her put it on. “This puts my coupons to shame.”

  “Are you kidding me? There’s no better gift than your sexy body.”

  “I wish we could spend the whole day together.”

  It’s her dad’s birthday, and she’s been planning on spending the day with him so he’s not alone. I told her I’d go with her, but she’s worried her dad won’t be in the best of moods. They haven’t spoken much since Christmas and for all she knows, he might spend the night at the hospital. “Let me come with you.”

  “You still want to?”

  “Of course I do. I want to spend all my days with you.”

  “I guess it can’t hurt. He might actually talk to you.”

  Two hours later, we’re on the road. Zoe’s quiet most of the drive. Other than whispering a few song lyrics here and there, she’s focused on the scenery and the passing cars. I hate that she’s so lost in her head she can’t enjoy today. But a day dedicated to lovers reminds her of what her dad lost. And that her mom’s never coming back.

  By late afternoon, I pull into the driveway. “You ready?”

  She stares at the house and I can tell she’s torn about going inside. I wish I could bring her mom back, so when she opened the door, her world would be back to normal.

  I lost my dad, but he’s still alive. If I tried hard enough, I could track him down and mend our relationship. But Zoe doesn’t have that option. Heaven doesn’t make house calls.

  “We don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to.”
/>   “You drove all this way. I have to go inside.”

  “My mom’s house is right down the street. We can go there until you’re ready.”

  She plays with the charms around her wrist and takes a deep breath. “Dad’s home. The light’s on in the living room. He might have seen us pull up.”

  I give her a couple more minutes to change her mind, and when I’m positive this is what she wants, I help her out of the car. Her hand’s ice cold when she places it in mine. “I’ve got you, Zo.”

  I’m so proud of her when she holds her head high, despite the pain in her chest, and opens the door by the garage. She keeps hold of my hand until we’re at the top of the stairs, rounding the corner into the living room.

  Neither of us are prepared for what we find.

  Zoe screams.

  I yell.

  They fall on the floor.

  Zoe

  “Dad, what are you doing?” My whole body’s shaking and my mouth’s dry.

  Instead of dropping it, Dad keeps ahold of Mrs. Turner’s hand as he helps her up off the floor. They were having one of the heaviest make out sessions I’ve ever seen. Once we spotted them, they fell off the couch onto the floor.

  My dad.

  Dylan’s mom.

  Sucking face like two horny teenagers in my childhood home. There’s so many things wrong with this scenario, I could throw up.

  How could he do this to me?

  To us?

  To my mother’s memory?

  “Mom,” Dylan whispers, seemingly as shocked as I am.

  “Zoe, honey. I’m sorry,” Dad pleads. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

  “Find out?” I question. “So this isn’t the first time?”

  Dad takes a step closer, and I take one in the opposite direction.

  Who is this man?

  The father I’ve spent a lifetime admiring wouldn’t do this. He loves Mom.

  “This isn’t the first time, Zoe. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months,” he admits. “I was afraid to tell you. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “You should have started with the truth. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I thought you were depressed. You wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “Because I wasn’t sure how to tell you about Linda. She wanted to come see you at school, but I wasn’t ready. I was afraid of your reaction. I was afraid of this.”

  “I’m such an idiot. When Keely told me Linda was helping you, I was thankful. She and Mom were such good friends, it seemed right that she’d be able to help you. But I never imagined she’d seduce you.”

  “She didn’t seduce me, Zoe. This was mutual. It was a long time coming.”

  “A long time? What about Mom? She’s only been gone five years.”

  “I loved your mother, Zoe. I’ll always love her. But it was time.”

  I know he means it, but it doesn’t make seeing him with Linda any easier. The last time he kissed a woman in front of me, it was my mother. In my mind, they’re still happily married, even though Mom’s gone. “I didn’t realize grief had an expiration date.”

  “Zoe, please.”

  “I can’t do this.” I turn around and plow into Dylan’s chest. He wraps his arms around me and his eyes give him away.

  He knew.

  He knew, and he kept it from me.

  “You can all go to hell.”

  Dad tries to follow me, but Linda stops him. “Let her have a minute alone, Teddy.”

  “I can’t,” he says with guilt lodged in his throat. But he doesn’t come after me. He listens to her. And I run.

  I run until I’m down the stairs and standing under a half-lit sky. It can’t be later than five but it’s already almost dark outside.

  Dylan’s car’s locked and the only other place I’d go belongs to his mother. The grass is damp, but I hurry into the plastic playhouse that belongs to one of the neighbor kids.

  It’s a tight fit, but I duck inside and crouch in the corner. Hugging my knees to my chest, I realize that for the first time in my life, I hate my father. He’s turned my favorite memories into vile discrepancies.

  It’s like a slap in the face he’d be with Linda in our house. Mom loved this place. Even when Dad said it was too small for a family of four, she insisted we stay. It was too hard for her to leave the memories behind. And when her time came, she passed away in her bedroom. The only place she wanted to be.

  I pray it’s too cloudy tonight for her to see us, to see them. But Dad said this wasn’t the first time. It’s been months.

  How much has Mom seen?

  And is her heart breaking as badly as mine?

  Dylan’s outside calling my name, and I get mad all over again. Mad at him for hiding their relationship from me. Mad at him for bringing me here. Mad at him for having such a wonderful mother.

  I cuddle into a tighter ball and rest my head on the side of the playhouse wall. My phone continues to ring and if I was capable of thinking straight, I would have turned the volume off. My stupid ringtone leads Dylan right to me.

  I’m jostled as half of Dylan’s body gets wedged in the doorway, the other half’s still stuck on the outside.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him as he falls face first near my feet.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Zo. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Well, you found me. You can go away now.”

  “You’re not staying here all night. Let’s go home.”

  “This was home,” I tell him as the first tear escapes. I brush it away because I don’t want him to see me like this. When it comes to my parents, I do all my crying in private.

  “Baby, please don’t cry. This is why your dad was struggling to tell you the truth. He knew you’d break down and seeing you hurting again would kill him. He couldn’t risk losing you, too.”

  “But you could?”

  “What?” he asks like I slapped him. “What’d I do?”

  “How long have you known?”

  “I didn’t, Zo. I swear.”

  “You’re lying, Dylan.” He wouldn’t be this calm if he didn’t know. He’d be freaking out like I am. This isn’t just a surprise, it’s a shock to the system.

  “We both knew they talk. They’ve been friends for years.”

  “Talking isn’t kissing. Talking isn’t rolling around on the couch together. His hand was up her dress! My dad was copping a feel of your mother’s ass.”

  Dylan lets out a shaky breath and grits his teeth. I almost feel sorry for him because he saw just as much as I did. “Meet me in the car. My back’s killing me.”

  Before I can argue, he’s inching out of the playhouse and whatever yelling I was getting ready to do is over before it starts.

  He honks the horn, scaring the shit out of me and I bang my head on the wall. I have to get out of here. Dylan’s right, mad or not, I can’t sit outside all night.

  I avoid looking at the house until we’re pulling out of the driveway. Both Dad and Linda are at the window, watching us leave. The look of pure misery on Dad’s face almost makes me stay. But I’m not ready to talk about his new relationship. I’m not sure I’ll ever accept it, either.

  I love Linda, but she’s not my mother.

  “Oh my god,” I groan.

  “What is it?”

  “Dylan, if they get married, I’ll have slept with my stepbrother.” Dylan laughs and I want to smack him. Nothing about this is funny.

  “Baby, they’re not getting married. They’re dating. There’s a huge difference.”

  “It’s incest. I’ll go to hell.”

  Dylan turns the radio down and I swear if he laughs about this, I’ll smack him. “Zo, we don’t share DNA. It’s not the same thing. Our kids won’t be born with three heads.”

  “Kids? Who’s having kids?”

  “We are, someday.”

  I can’t breathe.

  My first Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend and I’m discussing taboo love
rs and future babies. Why didn’t we stay home and go out to dinner like every other couple in America? I’d even settle for the worst red tab in the book.

  Anything to replace this madness.

  Dylan

  Zoe’s been hiding for an entire week. She won’t take calls from her dad, and she’s only spoken to Keely to yell at her for not telling her about their father’s relationship. The whole thing is a tangled-up mess and I’m stuck in the middle of it.

  I understand why Zoe’s upset. But I want Mom happy, and Zoe’s dad can do that. He can give her a good life, the life my father robbed her of.

  Deep down, Zoe wants the same for her dad. It just hurts too much for her to admit they’re good together. Because if she accepts it, that means she’s okay with it. And that feels like a slap in the face to her mother’s memory.

  To make matters worse, I found a pros and cons list about stepbrothers. She wasn’t saying much and I was desperate to figure out where her head was at. Against my better judgement, I went searching for the notebook, not expecting to be the topic again.

  No matter how many times I tell Zoe we’re not breaking any laws, she insists we’re damn close. So close she won’t sleep in my bed or let me sleep in hers. I haven’t touched her, and she doesn’t try to touch me. Not even a kiss.

  It’s hell. Fucking torture.

  The past couple months she’s gotten so comfortable around me. Her inhibitions weren’t holding her back and her heart was on the table.

  All that changed by witnessing one kiss. One moment of passion between two people we love. Two people who deserve to fill the void in their lives with a meaningful connection. Zoe can’t get past it though. When she’s not at class, she stays locked in her bedroom, avoiding me. The only time I see her is when she’s cooking, and I know not to get too close until she’s ready.

  But these late-night showers without her suck. I got used to conserving water and showering together before bed. Now, she waits until I’m finished and then does her thing, alone.

  I need Zoe to find peace with that kiss because I want us back. I want to have a conversation, to hear her voice and know that I haven’t lost her for good.

  I’m brushing my teeth, staring at the foggy mirror, when I use my finger to leave her a message in the condensation. “I love you.”