by Rae Kennedy
“If that’s what you want.”
“Yep. It’s what I want. What I need. No more boy talk. Let’s not even think about boys. From now on until further notice, this is a boy-free zone.” She sits up straighter and takes a calming breath.
“Sure. No boy talk.”
“Girls!” Bev calls up the stairs. “Dinnertime, come set the table.”
In Bev’s house, you do what Bev says. And since Gracie is in a bit of trouble with her parents after lying about being away at a prestigious summer program when she actually ran away with a four men who were complete strangers to follow their band on tour, we race to the dining room to set the table with smiles on our faces.
We’re almost done with the silverware when the front door opens, the screen door bouncing with a screech as it shuts behind it. I turn as Eric strides toward us.
Gracie is across the table from me, setting down the last few forks and Eric is coming straight for me. He leans in at the same time he reaches for my hand and it happens so quickly I don’t even think, only react.
I yank my hand away right as his fingertips brush my knuckles and twist my body, stepping out of his reach just as Gracie looks up at us. I veil any hint of the white-hot stab of guilt coursing through me with a neutral expression and lay down the last two spoons.
“Oh honey, I didn’t know you were coming to dinner tonight.” Bev sets down the large platter of meatloaf as Tom brings in a steaming bowl of mashed potatoes. “Gracie, dear, will you go grab another place setting for your brother?”
I steal a glance at him as soon as Gracie is out of the room. I don’t know what I expect from him—to be confused, maybe a little annoyed. But I’m not prepared for the way he’s looking at me. Big, brown puppy-dog eyes are searching mine, his throat bobs up and down. His eyebrows are pinched together in a pained expression, like I just punched him in the stomach.
He looks like he’s about to say something when Gracie comes back in and I turn away from him again.
Fuck. Me.
CHAPTER 22
He sits across from me in the same seat as last night. We’re mostly silent throughout dinner. I try to make eye contact with him. I want to explain. Unfortunately, there are not enough muscles in the face to properly convey what I need to say. I try for sorry.
That earns me a jaw tic.
I sneak out my phone and try to text under the table even though I know Gracie’s parents hate phones at the dinner table.
Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: I’m sorry. I haven’t told Gracie yet
His phone must be on silent. I try to get his attention with my eyes, but he doesn’t acknowledge my attempts.
I poke his leg under the table with my foot. He doesn’t turn.
I do it harder. He gives me what the fuck? eyes.
I mouth the word phone but he just looks confused. Phone I mouth again. He fishes his hand in his pocket and drops his eyes to his lap before I see his hands moving.
Dr. Gallagher: I didn’t know I was a secret
Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: You’re not. I just don’t know how to tell her
“Hey.”
I turn to Gracie, hiding my phone.
“You’re going to spend the night again, right?”
“Um...” I glance to Eric but he’s not looking at me. “Yeah.”
Gracie smiles.
“You’re still on dish duty tonight,” Bev reminds her.
When dinner’s over, I can’t get him to look at me. By the time we get all of the dishes carried to the kitchen, it’s all I can do to chase after him without Gracie noticing as he heads out the door.
I make sure the screen door doesn’t slam behind me then stomp after him down the porch steps. “Gallagher.”
He turns on me, the same mixture of anger and hurt I felt from him all night now concentrated in the hard stare he’s shooting at me.
“This isn’t going to work,” he says in a low tone.
Tiny prickles pull at the back of my neck. “What isn’t going to work?”
“You and me. Not like this. I’m not in it for a casual summer hook-up, and definitely not for being your dirty little secret. If that’s all this is to you—"
I want to reach for him, but he’s keeping his distance.
“It’s not. I swear to you it’s not—”
“Then why? Why don’t you want her to know about us?”
“It’s not that I don’t want her to know, because I do. I really do. But she’s just been through a break-up and she’s heartbroken. You know Gracie is already so sweet and sensitive, but she’s extra vulnerable right now. She’s so sad, and I don’t know how to tell her when I’m so...”
“You’re so what?”
“So happy.”
The hard set of his expression softens and he steps closer. “You are?”
I nod vehemently. “I’ll tell her. I want to tell her. I just want to wait a little while, until she’s feeling more like herself.”
“How long is a little while?”
“I don’t know. Not long, maybe a week or two? Please understand, she just needs me right now. I’m her person. And she’s mine.”
Eric grazes his fingertips along my jaw and the hint of a smile hits his lips. “I know. You two have always been inseparable.” He tips my chin up as he leans in. “I’m a little bit jealous. I kind of want to be your person.”
“Just kind of?”
“No. Not just kind of.”
I smile and wrap my arms around his neck. “I can make room for another person.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup. And you don’t need to be jealous. It’s not like Gracie and I are in her room going down on each other.”
“Ky. Fuck.”
I can’t help but chuckle at his reddening cheeks. “Speaking of which, I’m still desperate to return the favor for you.” I bite my lip as he holds me around the waist.
“You’re desperate for it?”
I nod and his breath hitches. I finally lean in. He’s already there and our lips meet. His mouth is gentle, and warmth spreads across my skin as he tightens his arms around me. The kiss is unhurried. Every touch is reverent, and I don’t know how it happened so quickly—how I’m so comfortable in his arms, how right his kisses are, how perfect we are together. Like we were always meant to be. Like it was fate.
A shuffling noise comes from the porch behind us and I whip around, holding my breath.
Angus ambles toward the front door, dragging his feet as he walks, his tongue hanging out and his long ears swishing with the motion of each step.
I look back to Eric, letting out a sigh of relief.
He jerks his chin back toward the house. “Go on.”
“You sure?” I kind of want to keep kissing.
“You’re right—she needs you right now. You’re a good friend and I'm glad she has you.”
He leans in again, the warmth of his hand splayed across my back, and the scent of his skin has me never wanting to leave this spot, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I think I told you before, that I can be extremely patient.”
* * *
I’m the fucking impatient one the next afternoon. I was supposed to get off work at three but it’s almost four already and I’m still cleaning up my section. What the fuck is so sticky?
“Kyla.” My mom comes around from her office. “Come see me before you leave. I’d like to talk to you.”
I trudge into her office a few minutes later. She better not tell me to clean the shake machine again—I know she’s just making me do it to remind me constantly of the shake incident, like I’d forget it.
She gives me a tight-lipped smile as I sit. There are no windows, just barren walls of white-painted concrete block and an overhead fluorescent light that emits a low, constant buzz. She has one picture frame on her desk—I’m five and wearing a pink leotard, too much blue eye shadow, and a giant glittery bow in my hair that’s pulled back in a tight bun. It was my first and only dance reci
tal. I’d told my mom I didn’t want to do ballet anymore shortly after.
The room is quiet except for the clicks of her keyboard as she finishes up whatever she’s in the middle of. Then she turns to me.
“Are you staying at Gracie’s house again tonight?”
I shrug. “Probably. I don’t know.”
“It’d be nice for you to be home sometime, even if only to do your laundry. I’m not going to do it for you.”
“I know.” Is this really what this conversation is for?
“Anyway, that’s not why I wanted to talk.” She clears her throat. “Have you given any more thought to going back to school?”
I tamp down the urge to roll my eyes.
She just continues on. “The deadlines for most online schools are coming up but there are other options.” She pushes some pamphlets across the desk. “There’s a community college and several vocational schools right near Grandpa’s nursing home. You could go to class and visit him throughout the week.”
I sit up, scowling at the neat, little folded brochures where people are pictured smiling unnaturally wide at their computer screens. I don’t hate the idea.
“I don’t even know what I’d study.”
“You could always study business, or accounting, finance. You could do many things with degrees like that. You could help me back here with the diner on the business end instead of serving customers, if you wanted.”
That sounds dull as hell.
“It was just a suggestion,” she says with a sigh. Have I mentioned my mom is excellent at reading facial expressions, too? It’s probably where I get it from. “You’re an adult. What you do with your life is your decision. If you do decide you want to go to school, I am more than happy to pay for it and have you continue living at home. If that’s not your decision, then I will also support you going out in the world and living as an adult. But that means you need to support yourself financially—find a job you enjoy, get a place to live. You know, be an adult.”
“You’re kicking me out of the house?”
“I’m not kicking you out. But you’ve been in limbo since you graduated. You need to take the next step in your life. You get to decide what that step is, but moving on and out of your parents’ house is usually one of those steps. If you want to keep working here that’s fine. I can get you more hours and more weekend shifts if you need them.”
I look at the pamphlets again. On one of them, a guy in a white polo shirt points to something in an open textbook as he leans over a girl wearing a red headband. They both appear to be laughing.
“When do you want me out?”
She rubs at her temples. “It’s not that I want you out, Kyla. I want you to be happy. It’s time for you to figure out what you want out of life and go get it.”
* * *
“Are you spending the night tonight?” Gracie asks.
Something nudges at my foot. Eric’s sitting across from me with a suspicious little smirk on his lips. I kick his foot back.
I glance back to Gracie—she’s holding her fork and pushing around the salad on her plate. Her full plate.
“Yeah, I’m staying tonight.”
She smiles. “Girls’ movie night?”
“Sure.”
Maybe I’ll get us a pizza.
Both of Eric’s feet are rubbing against mine now. I slide one up the side of his leg.
He winks at me and I try to eat without being too obvious. But the way he’s looking at me, devouring me with his eyes, I can read every word in them.
I want you tonight.
I return the intense stare. I want you too. But, Gracie.
He chews on the inside of his cheek. I know, but. But...
“What do you think?”
I turn Gracie, who’s obviously been talking for longer than I’ve been paying attention. “Huh?”
“Which movie do you want to watch?”
“Oh. You pick.”
After a breakup, I always want to watch some stupid comedy or an action flick with lots of explosions, maybe even blood. Anything but a movie about love. Gracie, on the other hand, will most likely go for some epic romance that’ll guarantee tears by the end.
* * *
“Is this the one where one of the teens dies at the end? Who really wants to watch that?”
Gracie narrows her eyes at Eric as he comes into the living room and sits next to me on the couch.
She’s in her dad’s big recliner wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. “We want to watch it.”
“Kyla and I like scary movies. If we’re going to watch someone die, might as well be in an awesomely gruesome way. Not lame in a hospital bed.”
“Ew, you know I hate that slasher, blood and guts stuff.” Gracie shudders. “So gross.” She clicks on the sad teen movie.
Eric shifts just close enough to me that he can slide his hand under my blanket and rest his hand on my foot. He gently rubs his thumb along my instep.
“Why are you even here?” she asks him. “We’re having a girls’ movie night.”
He puts his hand to his chest. “I’m offended. Am I not one of the girls?”
I unsuccessfully stifle a giggle. “I’m fine with him staying.”
He squeezes my foot.
“Fine.” Gracie purses her lips. “You can stay but you’re not allowed to provide commentary the whole time.”
“I never—”
She rolls her eyes. “You always. You talk and make jokes throughout the entire movie, and then Kyla has to tell you to be quiet and how you’re not funny, and then you two end up bickering and none of us get to enjoy the movie.”
“That’s true. You never shut up during movies,” I add.
He squeezes my foot harder, a devilish grin in his eyes. I smile back, trying not to wriggle my feet under the blanket.
“Okay. I’m out. I’ll let you two enjoy your girl time and your poor movie choice.” He gets up and I instantly miss his contact.
“That was weird. Has he been acting weird to you?” Gracie asks after he leaves.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
She scrutinizes me for a moment. “All right.” Then she hits play.
Eric was right, this movie is depressing. I’ve already suffered through ninety minutes of it and I’m disturbed to report that there’s another forty-five to go. Why would you want to watch this when you’re already sad? Maybe it’s the whole misery loves company thing? I don’t know. What I do know is, Gracie isn’t even watching the damn thing. She fell asleep thirty minutes in and my dumb ass is the one still up watching it by myself. But now that it’s almost over and I’ve invested this much of my life to it. I have to see it through.
Spoiler: one of them died at the end. And even though the other one went on to recover and was seemingly stronger after having endured this trial and hopeful for their future, I am not feeling the tingly, uplifting, yet bittersweet emotions I’m sure the filmmakers were hoping to elicit.
I glance at Gracie after I turn it off. She’s all snuggled up in a blanket, softly whistling through her nose in her sleep.
For being such a little thing, Gracie is a beast to wrangle up the stairs and into bed.
Bed’s probably a good idea but fuck it. I’m horny.
Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: You up?
Dr. Gallagher: Is this a booty call?
Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: Fuck yes it is.
CHAPTER 23
The moon is hidden behind thick clouds, the air still and humid. A few lightning bugs dance around the taller strands of grass, and I’m able to find the narrow beaten path between the farmhouse and Eric’s little cottage.
I’m so focused on my footing that I don’t notice the figure in front of me until the rustling is close and his silhouetted figure is mere feet in front of me.
When I look up and see him, even though I recognize him right away, I still jump and let out a little yelp.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, Rosenbaum.”
�
��You didn’t, I just—”
But he’s already to me, threading his fingers through my hair and kissing my lips, softly, slowly. He pulls away, his hand still on my neck and a smirk in his eyes. “I couldn’t wait for you to come over. I needed to do that as soon as possible.”
I smile for him.
“How long do we have to wait to tell Gracie again? I’m not sure if I’ll be able to pretend I don’t want to kiss you, like all the time.”
I touch the tip of my nose to his. “Well, no one else is around right now.”
“Mm.” He cups my chin, rubbing the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. “You’re right.” He leans in but stops just short of a kiss.
“Let’s go.” He turns around, bending his knees then looks over his shoulder. “Jump on.”
I hesitate for a second but then throw my arms around his neck and jump. I’m afraid he’ll stumble with my weight. Even with only one week of cheerleading try-outs under my belt, I know my position in the squad—I’m solidly a base, not a top-of-the-pyramid type of girl. But Eric doesn’t stagger when I hop on his back. He just grabs my legs and starts down the path toward his place—at an impressive speed, I might add.
He’s moving like I weigh nothing and I press into his hard muscles and shoulder blades. It’s...hot.
He clutches me tighter when we get to his front stoop, and then we burst through the front door. He kicks it closed behind us before turning and dropping me onto the couch, where I land and bounce in a fit of giggles. He’s out of breath and smiling as he lies over me, pinning me under him, and brushes some hair out of my face.
“What do you want to do?” he asks.
“Well, we don’t have that much time, so let’s just start by getting your dick out.”
His eyes widen and his smile grows, splitting his face. “Shit. You don’t even want to make out first? Just straight to playing with my dick?”
“That’s pretty presumptuous of you. I never said I wanted to play with it. Maybe I just want to inspect the goods.”
“Inspect the goods?” He sits up, pulling me with him.
I nod as nonchalantly as I can. “I’d like to know what I'm working with, and to be honest, I’ve wanted to see it since...” I stop myself, biting my lip, not sure if I want to divulge the next part to him.