“I guess," I answered. I tucked my head under my clasped hands on the pillow and tried to look away from his body, but I couldn’t help myself when he lifted up to stretch again and the blankets moved down.
His laughter filled the room, and I quickly looked away from his body to his face. “You like what you see?” he asked. I ignored him and patted Theo’s belly. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He rubbed his eyes. “Damn, I liked the way we woke up earlier better than this one.”
“Don’t hold your breath on that happening again,” I warned, smacking his arm. “So Theo is a pretty masculine dog you’ve got here.”
Theo started to roll around on his back at the mention of his name. He couldn’t have weighed more than eight pounds.
"Theo is actually my mom's Yorkie, but I take care of him when she's gone.” He gave the dog a tiny pat on the belly. “He may be a tiny squirt, but he sees a badass Rottweiler when he looks in the mirror. Don’t ya boy?” I had to admit it was cute to see how affectionate he was towards the little guy. “He’s my sidekick.”
"Oh geez, please don't corrupt the dog.”
"Theo is the perfect gentleman.” Theo lifted up on his legs to lick Keegan across the cheek. Keegan got up from bed and held out his hand my way. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat. I’m pretty sure you puked up everything in your stomach last night.”
My stomach growled out at the mention of food, answering his question. I rolled out of the bed, and he shook his head at me when I ignored his hand.
"You know how to cook?" I asked, squinting my eyes at him.
"I've been feeding myself for as long as I can remember." He picked up Theo in his arms. "Call me Chef Boy Keegan, baby." He walked out the door laughing, and I followed him down the wide stairway.
***
“You ready to give me some credit now?"
I was sitting in a stool in front of the kitchen island watching Keegan load our dishes into the dishwasher. He’d made French dip sandwiches, the perfect meal to soak up all of the alcohol I’d consumed last night. At least that was his theory. I had to admit, though, that he was right. It was helping ease the nausea swirling in my belly.
He’d thankfully changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt after I refused to eat anything until he put some clothes on.
“Fine,” I groaned out. “You’re a fantastic sandwich maker.” His ego didn’t need to be stroked anymore than it already was, but I had to give credit when credit was due.
“About damn time I got a compliment from you. It only took what? A month?”
“You have entirely too many chicks handing you compliments without having to worry about one from me.”
“Was that yet another compliment?”
“Absolutely not. So where’d you learn to cook like that?”
“My mom is always gone, so it was either keep eating shitty fast food or learn to cook. I chose the second one and taught myself to make a few things that were quick and easy.”
I still hadn’t seen his mom since I moved here. She seemed to always be out of town.
His phone rang, and he looked down at the caller ID before answering this time. "About damn time you called back," he said, holding the phone to his ear. My fingers crossed that it was either Lane or Cora on the other end. His head nodded a few times, listening to whatever the person on the other end was saying. "Yeah, where's her bag?" Jackpot. "I'll let her know and text you."
He ended the call and tossed his phone down on the counter. "They're having lunch at Cora's with her parents. We can go pick up your bag from her house, or he said they could drop it by when they're done?”
I wanted to get my bag and go home, but I could’ve only imagined what Cora's parents would think of me if I showed up at their place wearing Keegan’s clothes.
“Just tell them to drop it off when they’re finished,” I answered. I hated how my stupidity was a burden to everyone else because I couldn’t handle my alcohol. “I mean, if that’s okay with you,” I rushed out. “If you have something to do, we can go get it now.”
He shook his head. “I’m free, you can hang out here all day if you want.”
I surprisingly felt myself smile like I hadn’t in months. I wasn’t sure if it was the affection withdrawals making me giddy, or if I liked hearing a guy say he wanted to spend time with me. A guy other girls lusted over.
I stared at him, our eyes meeting, and was unable to break away. It was like one of those cheesy, insta-love movies that people, including me, made fun of. He was the first to break the connection, running his hand over his face, and shaking his head.
“I'm thinking a movie while we wait," he said, walking around the island and grabbing my hand. "I'll be a gentleman and let you pick the movie, of course." Our hands interlaced, and he dragged me out of the kitchen into the living room. "Get comfortable. I'll go grab a few choices and a blanket." He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down onto the large, white sectional before leaving the room.
I shifted around on the couch, but it was about as comfortable as an ironing board. I finally got somewhat comfortable and leaned back against the cushions.
"Alright," he called out, walking back into the room with an arm full of DVDs and a blanket. "I have Titanic because for some reason chicks think it's romantic to see the apparent ‘love of their life’ die in front of them or something." He held up the DVD in front of him, showing me the cover, completely clueless how his words would affect me.
Every muscle in my body locked up, and I pulled my legs into my chest, forming a ball to create my own, private barrier. Air punched from my lungs as my breathing grew shallow.
I counted to ten like my therapist had trained me to do whenever this happened, but it wasn't working. My heart thumped hard against my rib cage, causing me to panic. My hands slid up to my face to cover up my embarrassment. I collapsed my head against my knees, just in time to hide the tears slipping down my cheeks.
"Shit," I overheard Keegan curse, and the couch dented in beside me. "Are you okay?" I couldn't see him, but I caught the concern in his voice. Keeping my face masked, I slowly nodded.
Was I always going to be a damn basket case? My body flinched at the gentle touch of his hand running down my crouched back while the tears fell faster. He massaged my back, his hand moving in small circles slowly.
"It's okay," he said, softly into my hair. “I’ll be right back.” His hand wrapped around my arm, giving it a small squeeze, and then he moved away.
"Daisy," he said, when he got back. "Look at me real quick, babe." He grabbed my chin with two fingers and lifted my head up to look at him. I blinked, trying to clear up my vision, and saw him kneeling down in front of me. Worry lined his features. “Are you okay?” He stroked his fingers along my tingling cheek.
God, I was so sick of people asking me that.
I nodded, like I always did.
He twisted around, grabbed some tissues, and handed them to me. “Take these.” He gave me a glass and two white pills. “I should’ve given them to you earlier, but I’m a sucky nurse.” I looked down, studying the pills. “They’re ibuprofen.”
I popped the pills on my tongue and swallowed them down. He gave me a warm smile and took the glass from my hand. “You want to talk about it?” he asked, scratching his cheek.
I shook my head, looking away from him. I never wanted to talk about it, and that was my problem. "Not Titanic," I said lightly, squirming in my seat.
He stood up and grabbed the blanket. "I don't blame you. I hate that movie, too. Everyone knows there was plenty of room for Jack on that door.”
His large hands wrapped around the blanket, sprawling it along my still-trembling body. I gave him a sore smile and tried my best to make myself comfortable.
“I also grabbed some horror movies since it’s Halloween time and all,” he added.
I grunted. "Please tell me your ‘horror movies,’" my fingers lifted into the air to emphasize the words, "are not Saw or The Wrong Turn
because those aren't real horror movies."
His nose wrinkled as he held up Saw. "I beg to differ.” He tapped his finger against the case. “How could you possibly say this is not a horror movie? I’m pretty sure being forced to play a game where you either have to saw off your own foot or die categorizes as a scary fucking movie.”
"It's gore. So called “horror” movies these days just throw in as much blood and gore as they can and try to call it a scary movie.” My finger waggled back and forth in front of me. "No."
His eyes twinkled in amused interest. "Okay, Ms. Scary Movie Connoisseur.” He bowed his head down to me. "Please tell me what movies are Daisy classified authentic horror movies."
"The classics," I answered, leaning forward to take a drink of water. "Halloween, Friday The 13th, Scream, The Exorcist. Those are the real scary movies."
He grabbed a few from the stack. “Lucky for you, I’ve got three out of four here, so take your pick.” He held them up, and I pointed to the middle one. He grinned, opening up the case. “Good choice.” He loaded the disk into the player. “Jason is my favorite. He taught me a very valuable lesson.”
"And what’s that?”
"Don’t fuck girls in a tent in the middle of the woods.” He shot me a grin at the same time I rolled my eyes.
“Of course, that’s the only lesson you took from it.”
He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV at the front of the room. He crashed down on the couch, and I looked over at him when I felt a tug on my blanket as the opening credits started to roll.
"You going to share?" I gave him a stern look, and he snickered. “I promise, no funny tricks,” he said, holding up his arms.
Shaking my head, I grabbed the end of the blanket and flipped it his way. He captured it, chuckling, and snuggled his head towards me. We both then turned our attention to the first death at good ol' Camp Crystal.
I had an obsession with the classic scary movies since I was a kid. My mom blamed it on my dad. He’d let me stay up late with him after trick-or-treating and watch them with him every year. He called it our “father daughter bonding time.”
I looked over at Keegan about thirty minutes in and noticed he was staring at me instead of watching the movie.
“What?” I asked, catching him off guard. “Why are you staring at me?”
"This is actually pretty fun," he answered.
"Being with me or watching the movie?"
"Watching a movie with someone else."
I angled my body towards him. "You've never watched a movie with anyone before?”
"With Lane and shit, yeah. But never with a girl. I mean, sure I’d play movies, but I always thought of them as background noise. We never exactly … watched the movie.” His brows furrowed at the last sentence.
“Okay, that's just sad," I teased, picking up a pillow and tossing it at him. "Now, let's give you your first real experience then. Quit watching me instead of the movie.”
KEEGAN
Chapter Eleven
“You going home for Thanksgiving?” I asked Daisy, pulling up to her house.
She shook her head. “No, my parents are coming here. Is your mom going to be home?"
Daisy and I had started a friendship after our whole Halloween party, dry-humping, movie-watching situation. We didn’t necessarily hang out with each other in our free time, but our silence and arguments had turned into small conversations and tiny jokes. I liked our little friendship, and as much as I was attracted to her, I knew getting into her panties was a bad idea. It’d fuck up everything that we’d built the last month. I liked having her around too much to do that. I didn’t want her to end up hating me.
"I wouldn't count on it," I answered, shrugging to make it look like I didn’t give a shit. "I usually just chill out at home or go over to Lane's."
"But isn't he going to Cora’s house?"
"I think so," I said, my voice flat. "So I'll probably just hang at home."
"What about your dad?"
Her being curious about him didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was that she hadn’t heard all of the rumors about my family yet.
I let out a hard laugh. "Even if I knew who the arrogant asshole was, I wouldn't count on him inviting me over for a holiday dinner."
I’d stopped asking my mom about my dad years ago after she finally made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her … or me.
“Why don't you come over and have dinner with us? I know my aunt and uncle won’t mind. For some reason, they actually like you.”
I chuckled. "Funny little shit, you are. Everyone likes me, including you. But it’s okay, you don’t have to admit it." She smiled. "Thanks for the invite, but it's cool.” I hated having people feel sorry or pity me. Sympathy invites weren’t my thing.
I’d surpassed the point where I cared who my dad was, deciding I was better off without him anyways. The asshole had been absent my entire existence, so I wasn't waiting for him to step up to play father of the year anytime soon.
"You're coming," she insisted. "Consider it payback for all the rides and calorie ridden drinks you’ve given me."
I squeezed out a fake smile. "I'll think about it."
"Please," she stressed, clutching her tiny hands together.
"Okay, fine," I gave in, rubbing the back of my neck, unable to resist her cute begging. I would find a way to back out later.
Her eyes twinkled in triumph. "You promise?"
I nodded. "I promise."
"I take promises very serious, Keegan."
***
“Keegantor!” Sophia screeched, opening up the front door. “I was sooo happy when Daisy said you were coming!”
I debated with myself for hours, going back and forth on whether to come or not. I wasn’t sure if I caved because I didn’t want to break my promise or I wanted to spend time with her. Or both.
My original plan had been to grab some Chinese takeout. Those places were always open on Thanksgiving. It wasn't the first time I'd spent the holiday alone, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, either. The only times I’d ever had a real Thanksgiving are when I’d go over to Lane’s. Even though he was going to Cora’s this year, I knew if I told my aunt I had nowhere to go, she’d prepare some huge ass meal just for me. I didn’t want her to go through all of that trouble and stress over me. So I told her I was going to Daisy’s.
My Aunt Madeline was my mom's sister, but their parenting was polar opposite. My aunt was like one of those moms you saw on the Disney Channel, while my mom could’ve had her own Lifetime Movie made based on the bad choices she’s made in life.
Layla Hudson should've been banned from ever being able to procreate. The woman could hardly take care of herself, let alone a damn kid. She didn't have one maternal bone in her underweight body. The only reason she didn't abort me was because I was a paycheck to her. She’d gladly decided to share that with me when she was on one of her drunken binges. I was only ten.
Our house, cars, and the majority of her designer handbags were all benefits of giving birth to the bastard baby and keeping her mouth shut about it. Sure, she made money from her “movies,” but it wasn’t anywhere near what she got from my sperm donor. Thanks, asshole.
I still hadn't even heard from her today, which was honestly no surprise. The last time I'd talked to her was a week ago, and she told me she was in Vegas with her producer / boyfriend shooting a new movie. I had to hold back the smart ass comments that wanted to come barreling out of my mouth when she tried to refer to herself as an actress.
To be honest, I couldn't blame my dad. I mean, who would want the entire world to know they knocked up one of the biggest porn stars in the industry? Yeah, not too many fucking people. I remembered the day I found out what my mom’s “job” was. It was my first day of sixth grade, and an older boy strolled into the locker room bragging about how he'd watched a movie of my mom being screwed from behind. I ended up setting him and the rest of the school straight from talking shit
about her when my fist clashed against his nose, breaking it.
I followed Sophia into the kitchen as she announced my arrival to the room. I waved to everyone, noticing some familiar and not-so-familiar faces. Tommy was sitting on the couch, a beer in his hand, and talking to another guy about the football game playing on the TV. Jamie and another woman were in the kitchen, busy with cooking utensils and bowls spread along the countertops. I scanned the room, looking for the dark haired beauty, but didn’t see her.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Keegan," Jamie said. "Would you like something to drink while you wait for dinner? It shouldn’t be too much longer."
"If my sister doesn't burn everything and the house down," the guy sitting next to Tommy yelled across the room. “I was frightened when you told me you were making dinner this year. I remember when you tried to cook brownie mix in the microwave instead of the oven.”
Jamie shook her head at him. “Funny, I’ll be sure to spend extra time burning yours.” She gestured to me. “David and Janis, this is our neighbor, Keegan. He’s been giving Daisy rides to school,” she told them.
David slid out of his seat, came my way, and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, boy. I’m Daisy’s father.”
While everyone was decked out in their dress clothes, David was wearing a faded pair of jeans and old flannel. His hair matched Daisy’s locks to a tee. She was almost a spitting image of her father.
I stuck my hand out and shook his hand. “You, too.”
"Hey Keegan.” I turned around at the sound of her voice.
I stumbled back a step, my mouth watering. Damn, she looked good. Her curly hair was pulled back with a black headband that was almost as dark as her hair. She was wearing a tight, purple dress that hugged every inch of her; causing images to play in my brain of the night I undressed her. Even though I was a good boy, I had to admit, I did sneak a few peeks at her never-ending curves.
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