Taking Mine

by Schneider, Rachel

  “Lock up when you leave, yeah?”

  “Sure.”

  We watch him pull out of the driveway before we confront each other. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

  He smiles, amused by my speechlessness. “I’ll wait in the Jeep until you’re ready.” He places a quick kiss on my forehead and walks out, leaving me with the mess of feelings he doused me in.

  I walk to my room and pull out a spare backpack and begin folding clothes. I’m a few minutes in when I find myself opening and closing dresser drawers repeatedly and doing the same to my closet door when I realize that my wardrobe only consists of blue jeans and cotton t-shirts. In the bathroom, I do the same, looking through the medicine cabinet for anything I may need. Toothbrush, hair ties…tampons.

  Should I bring tampons?

  I count the days in my head and decide no. I shouldn’t be there that long, and nothing screams overly attached like stocking his bathroom with feminine hygiene products. I pack a few more items I think I’ll need and walk down the hall to the kitchen. I leave my keys hanging on the wall by the refrigerator, just in case Kip needs them for anything, and a thought occurs to me.

  Opening the fridge, I smile.

  When I finally climb into the Jeep, Justin gives me a strange look. “You okay? What took so long?”

  Pulling the leftover pizza slice out from behind my back, I shove it into his face, laughing as it sticks.

  He peels the pizza away, and a hefty amount of marinara and cheese remains with a pepperoni slice dangling from his chin. He holds the pizza in both of his hands, staring down at it with one eye open, dumbfounded.

  “Gotcha,” I say, pointing a finger gun at him.

  He licks his lips, a smile finally appearing. “Okay, I’ll give you that one,” he says, wiping the sauce from his one eye smeared shut. “I didn’t see it coming.”

  I shrink back, suddenly scared of retaliation.

  “No, don’t worry, you’re safe for now. When I do get you back, you’ll least expect it.” He takes a bite of the pizza, mostly just dough, and puts the jeep in gear. “You’ll have to sleep at some point.”

  THE MICROWAVE DINGS and I retrieve the carton of noodles. It’s a little after midnight. I’m pulling an all-nighter for Whitticker’s test tomorrow and I need fuel. Watered-down processed noodles is my obvious go-to. It was that or leftover pizza and, for the love of food, I am tired of pizza. I never thought I’d see the day that pizza would make me nauseous, but that day was a week ago.

  Staying at Justin’s comes with its advantages and disadvantages. The lack of home-cooked food is definitely a disadvantage. I can make fajitas and sandwiches and that’s about it. Kip does most of the cooking at home because he hates fast food. Unsurprisingly, I find I’m spoiled in that department. Actually having to find food when hungry is a chore all in itself. Having to concoct something that takes longer than three minutes to cook is enough for me to decide I’d rather not eat.

  Feeling like a study break is in order, I resume my position on the couch and flip to a rerun of Family Feud, turning down the volume so it doesn’t wake Justin up. I’ve learned he’s a light sleeper and an awfully cheerful morning person. Those two traits combined are hard to get used to when I’ve only ever shared a space with Kip, who's super quiet. Every footstep Justin takes sounds like he’s Godzilla, stomping everywhere he goes. If I don’t wake up to him trying to get in between my legs, which is almost every morning, then he’s trying to tickle me awake. Imagine the worst possible way to wake up: that’s it. I read somewhere that tickling serves no purpose other than to help build a bonding experience between two individuals, which I think is hilarious because it makes me want to commit murder at seven in the morning.

  I finish off the episode of Family Feud, allowing Steve Harvey to draw out a closing as a family celebrates their win in the background. Procrastination is a vile character trait, and I fight it as I pick up my notes, forcing my brain to kick into gear. The rest of the night goes by slower and much less successfully than the beginning did, and I catch myself fighting more and more sighs as the morning approaches.

  There's a rustling of covers from the bedroom, and I know Justin's awake. His footsteps, loud as usual, announce his arrival as he makes his way to me. His eyes squint against the light and he runs both his hands over his face.

  “Lilly, it's four in the morning.”

  “No point in going to sleep now,” I say.

  “You need to at least get a nap in before class or you're going to fall asleep while you're taking the exam.”

  I try really hard to stop the yawn before it escapes but fail miserably.

  His sleepy face takes on the domineering mode he goes into when he's determined to get his way. “That's it, you're done,” he says, closing and stacking up my notebooks, easily dodging my attempt to stop him.

  “Justin, let me go through it one more time, please.”

  “If you don't know it by now, Lilly, you're not going to. You need sleep.” He pulls me up by one arm, catching me as I start to lose balance, and shoulders me to him.

  “You're ridiculous,” I say as he deposits me on the edge of the bed.

  “Yeah, well, I can say the same about you.” He lifts my shirt over my head and pushes me onto my back.

  I huff. “I can undress myself.” But I make no attempt to move as he pulls my yoga pants down. The next thing I know I'm flipped on my side, covered head to toe in blankets, just how I like it. Quicker than I thought I could be, I'm halfway asleep in moments. I'm about to give up the fight, letting the comfort lull me to sleep, when I remember something. “Alarm,” I say, words barely pushing past my lips.

  “Don't worry, I got it covered,” he says, placing a kiss on top of my head. “Sleep.”

  And with that last demand, I relent, falling into darkness.

  MY LIDS ARE HEAVY as I force them open, something startling me awake. Sunlight filters through the small window on the opposite wall and it takes a second before I realize that sunlight means I'm late. Really late.

  “Fuck,” I cuss as I struggle from Justin's grasp.

  He sits up, alarmed by my panic. “What's wrong?”

  “I'm late,” I yell as I fly off the bed, picking up the clothes from yesterday and shoving myself into them. “I thought you said you set an alarm?”

  He checks his phone on the end table. “It's dead.” Confused, he follows the power cord. “It must have come unplugged.”

  “Just great. Just fucking great. How come the one day in the history of ever you don't wake up at the break of dawn is the one day that I need you to?”

  “You still have time if you hurry.”

  I skip brushing my teeth, fixing my hair as I exit the apartment, not bothering to bring my backpack.

  “I'll drive you,” he says, keys in hand, following me down the stairs in nothing but his pajama pants.

  The cold burns my skin, the yoga pants and t-shirt doing very little to protect from the wind. “It'll be quicker if I run.”

  “It's too cold, Lilly. Let—”

  “I don't have time to argue with you. I'll see you after class, alright? You're going to be late to your own exam if you don't hurry.”

  He stops at the bottom of the stairs and watches me jog across the parking lot. “You're so hardheaded,” he says, his voice muffled by the wind in my ears.

  “Yeah, and you're an asshole who doesn't double-check his alarms.”

  “Love you, too,” he yells.

  And my heart stops beating for all of two seconds, long enough for me to pause and wonder if it'll ever pick back up again or if I'll drop dead in the middle of the crosswalk. It's meant as a joke, a ribbing, but it sets off a whole new level of emotions inside me that I don't have time to analyze.

  I stop in the middle of the intersection and look at him. He's still standing on the bottom step, leaning his forearms against the railing, smiling like a jackass. I flip him off and he tilts his head back, laughing. I can hear it even th
ough we're almost a football field away from each other. A car horn honks, and I flip him off, too, done with people at this point of this craptastic morning.

  Whitticker gives me an irritated look as I enter the auditorium but hands me the exam, holding up five fingers to let me know I've lost precious time already. Kaley raises her eyebrows at me as I take the seat next to her with only a pencil in hand. Taking a deep breath, I write my name, calming the racing of my heart as I begin. A hundred questions and a short answer determine my fate. I smile as I read the first question.

  I think I've got this.

  AS I’M EXITING THE BUILDING, I catch Justin leaning against one of the pillars outside. His back is to me as I walk up.

  “You have no right to throw that at me.” I can vaguely make out a woman’s voice on the other side of the phone. Not wanting to intrude, I take a step back…until I hear my name. “Lilly has nothing to do with it.” Another pause before he says, even more irritated, “Yes, but you’re putting me in a bad spot.”

  He waits a few more beats before throwing his hands in the air. His body is poised to turn around when I take my final steps toward him. His eyes widen slightly as he takes me in.

  “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.” He ends the phone call and pockets his cell phone.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overhear.”

  His motion is stiff as he shrugs, and I can tell he doesn't want to discuss it. “Did it go well?”

  The test was brutal, but overall, I feel relief. Sweet, unparalleled relief to know I'm done with Whitticker. At least for now. “I really just want a shower and a nap.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he says.

  We walk across campus in silence. Since we’ve been together, I’ve noticed more than a few stares aimed at us. Or him, I’m not sure. I’ve never been particularly observant, but now it’s hard not to. I find myself paying close attention to the way the wind dances across the front of Justin’s shirt or the check pattern on the blanket a couple is sitting on. Or my nails. Yes, my nails. They’re frayed and ragged around the edges. Somehow, I've missed how absent-minded I am. I don’t know if it’s a psychological thing or what, but I feel like I see things so much more clearly with him by my side. Including myself.

  Justin gives me a cursory glance, confused by the stupid grin on my face, and throws his arm over my shoulder.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says.

  And next to him, I feel beautiful

  The first thing I do when we're back in Justin's apartment is brush my teeth and shower. Turning on the faucet so the water can warm up, I start to peel off my clothes and shove a toothbrush in my mouth. Living in an apartment building apparently means always waiting five minutes for the water to get hot. Justin stands in the doorway and strips his shirt off.

  “My mom wants me to go home for Thanksgiving,” he says.

  Other than the little bit Justin's told me about his dad's drinking and his arrest, I know very little about his home life, but I've gathered that he hasn't been back in a while. I'm not quite sure what he wants me to say, so I spit the toothpaste from my mouth. “That's good, right?”

  “Depends,” he says, holding the shower curtain back for me, getting in behind me. “Would you come with me? My mom wants you to come with me to visit her.”

  “Is that who you were arguing with on the phone?”

  “Sort of,” he says, cupping my neck between his hands. “Stop avoiding the question.”

  “I heard my name. Was it about me?”

  He runs his hands up into my hair and I tilt my head back into the spray of the water. “I tried to explain to her that you have a lot going on right now and I wanted to be here with you.”

  I open my eyes. “You told her about me?”

  His smile is genuine. “Of course.”

  I pour shampoo into my hands and begin massaging it into my scalp, but he forces my hands away, taking over.

  “So, would you be interested?”

  “You make it sound like a job application.”

  “Technically, in my mother’s eyes, you’re kind of applying for future daughter-in-law material,” he says, half grimacing and half smiling.

  “That’s not at all daunting. Sure, I’d love to be scrutinized by your mother.” In a mock motherly tone, I continue, “So, Lilly, what do your parents do for a living?” I switch voices and say, “Oh, I don’t have any, but my brother is known to dabble in trade smuggling. It’s actually a family affair. You know, just paying the bills.”

  He huffs out a laugh and runs his hands through my hair, expelling the remaining soap. “When did you become such a drama queen?”

  I bite his arm, and he hisses through his teeth against the pain.

  “What was that for?”

  “I'm not a drama queen.”

  “Right, ‘cause inflicting physical pain isn’t dramatic at all.” I make a move to do it again, but he blocks me, spinning me around and pinning my back to his front. “I’ll let my mother know that my girlfriend has come down with some sort of rabid disease and she won’t be able to make it.”

  “Make sure it sounds fatal.”

  His laughter tickles the hairs on my neck, and I try to squirm away. “I texted Kip. He thinks it’ll be a good idea to get you away for a few days. One weekend, that’s all I’m asking.”

  I lower my guard, defeated. “If this doesn’t sound like a setup, I don’t know what does.”

  He bites my neck and I yelp. “I’ll set you up.”

  “Oh my God. Never say that again.”

  He evil-villain laughs as he picks me up and pins me against the shower wall.

  “STOP POUTING.”

  I glare at Justin as he puts my bag in the back of his Jeep. “I’m not pouting. I’m worried.”

  “Kip’s explained everything to them. They know what they’re doing. Kip just needs a little more time to talk to Jimmy.”

  I already know all of this, but it still doesn’t ease the weight in my stomach. Kip talked with Dan and Ethan separately, explaining what we found and our suspicions. They both agreed to keep it between us before making any rash decisions. That means doing a lift while Kip attempts to set up a meeting with Jimmy. That’s an entirely different worry all in itself. Neither Kip nor Taylor has ever met him in real life, and now that we know he’s most probably a drug lord or something, it’s that more daunting.

  “Plus,” he adds as he shuts the back of his Jeep. “We made a run and it was fluff.”

  “And they're grown men, Lil,” Kip adds for extra emphasis.

  “And I’m a grown woman. Yet you had a conniption fit when I went.”

  He thumps me on the forehead. “Which I had every right to, considering we had no idea what we were getting into. Still don’t.”

  I roll my eyes and hug him bye. His point is valid, and I know there’s no argument to be won.

  “We should get there around four. I’ll text you when we arrive,” Justin says.

  Kip releases me and slaps Justin’s shoulder. “Drive safe, wear your seat belts.”

  Justin does the same to Kip and says, “Will do.”

  It's weird and comforting all at the same time to see them getting along so well. In the time since we revealed our findings to Kip, they’ve been in almost constant contact. Whether in regards to my well-being or Kip’s progress on figuring out a solution to all our problems, they’ve texted back in forth all week. I just haven’t figured out which feeling is more dominant.

  It’s about a two-and-a-half-hour ride to Justin’s parents’ house. His home, depending on how you look at it. I spend the better half of the ride going over different scenarios in my head. His mom can dislike me on sight. She'll take one good look at me and know that I’m a bad influence on her son. She’ll be psychic and detect that I’ve gotten her son mixed up with the mafia. Or whatever shit Jimmy is.

  Justin reaches over the seat and slowly runs his hand up my thigh. “You’re legs look amazing.”


  His fingers are a few shades darker than my pale legs, and a thought occurs to me. “Your mom isn’t super conservative or something, is she? Should I put on pants?”

  He throws his head back, laughing. “I’m feeling you up and all you can think about is what my mom thinks?”

  “Well, should I?”

  “I don’t think it’s my mom that I’m worried about,” he says, reaching a little higher.”It’s my brother.”

  I stop his hand. “Don’t patronize me.”

  He leans over the middle and kisses me. “You’re perfect.”

  “Thanks, you’ve been very helpful.”

  “You're thinking too much.” I give him a look and he's not at all affected by it, smiling at my nervousness. “If I can win over your brother, there's no doubt you can handle my mom.”

  He has a point, but still, not very helpful.

  The driveway to Justin’s house is long and winding, filled with woods on both sides. Tall pine trees loom high above us, creating a tunnel effect and blocking the sunlight. The gravel road dips and turns periodically with no end in sight.

  “You're not bringing me somewhere to kill me, are you?” The automatic locks click down around me. “Funny,” I say, giving him a dry look.

  “I thought it was.”

  “How much farther?”

  “This long,” he says as we emerge from the pine trees.

  An entire expanse of land lies before us. It’s an orchard of some sort. Trees line row after row behind a small bungalow-style house, old but kept up nicely. Justin parks next to another, older-model Jeep in front of the porch. Potted plants sit along the railing, and wooden chairs occupy the space between.

  “I thought you said you didn’t have a lot of money growing up.”

  “We didn’t,” he says, taking in the view with me. “Not until my dad sobered up.” He opens his door and I am immediately bombarded with the smell of lemon and pine.

  They’re lemon trees.

  Justin already has our bags unloaded when the front door of the house swings wide, banging off the siding.

  “Three years is too long.”