Trust by Kylie Scott
"Okay," he said.
"Okay?"
"We can do that, be serious." His face smoothed, all worries gone. "Right?"
I paused. Not the answer I was expecting.
"That a problem?" he asked, sounding less sure of himself now. He shuffled a little closer. "I mean, guess I should have asked first. But if this is the only way we can keep hanging out . . ."
"I don't think you understand the depth of my mother's psychosis," I said, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. "For her to believe we're official, you and your uncle would have to come over for dinner. I'm talking interrogation over pot roast, and she'd probably want to do it every couple of weeks or something. You'd probably be expected to turn up with flowers and candy. Possibly get my name tattooed on your forehead. I don't know exactly. The woman is not sane."
"Pretty sure Levi can fit it in. He likes you, asks me how you're doing all the time."
"That's nice." I swallowed hard. "It's just, we agreed, Mom and I, not to lie to each other anymore. I'd like to try to stick to that."
His chin dipped. "You think we'd be lying?"
"Wouldn't we be?"
The bell rang, sending people scurrying in all directions.
"We'd better get to class." I spun the dial on my locker at warp speed, picking up my bag and dumping the textbook I wouldn't need until later.
"Edie."
"Let's talk about it at lunch. Mom will kill me if I get detention for again being late." I about-faced and took off down the hall, John following at a more sedate pace. Thing was, official meant something not just to Mom, but to me also. It meant a lot. No matter how much I liked kissing and rolling around with him on my bed, maybe it would be for the best if we cooled things now before my dumbass heart got any more deluded.
Turned out he was busy come lunchtime, off shooting hoops with Anders. Guess there was my answer. John Cole would never be mine. Not in that way.
Someone was banging on the front door.
Mom, Matt, and I had just sat down to our first official family dinner. Meat loaf, baked potatoes, corn cobs, and green beans, to be followed by chocolate cake and Cool Whip. Hallelujah. Even my shitty grounded attitude couldn't deny the healing qualities of Cool Whip.
Mom's loved-up smile dimmed for a second as she rose, wiping her hands on a napkin. "Bad timing. Wonder who that could be."
"Want me to get it?" I asked.
"No. It's fine." Her fingers drifted across the back of Matt's neck as she passed. Gag. She opened the door, her back snapping straight at the sight of the person standing there. Hostility radiated. "Yes?"
"Whatever I have to do," said a familiar deep voice.
"John?" I stood, surprised.
"However I need to prove myself to you, I'll do it," said John. "I don't mind."
Mom cocked her head. "Is that so?"
"Yes."
Arms crossed, Mom stepped back and to the side, giving us the view of John standing in the doorway. Dark blue jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair had been neatly pulled back in a ponytail and there were two bouquets of bright flowers in his arms. He looked amazingly good. Confident and determined, apart from the careful neutral set of his face, the way his gaze kept moving between me and Mom.
I, on the other hand, broke out in a sweat. My heart beat double time and worse, it ached. Ridiculous, how I could have missed him when I'd only just seen him this morning in English?
Matt simply smiled, the smarmy bastard.
"My daughter is not a toy," announced my mother. "I hope you're aware of that."
"I am, ma'am."
"If I even suspect you're dealing or look like you're getting her into any sort of trouble, I will annihilate you. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You had points with me for saving her life, but they're gone now as a result of your nighttime visit over the weekend. You get that?"
A nod.
"You're starting from scratch. Impress me."
"Yes, ma'am," said John, handing her one of the bunches of flowers.
"Good start. Go on, take a seat at the table," she ordered, closing the door behind him. Still looking deeply unhappy, she said to his back, "I hope you have children one day so you get what this is like. The fear. The worry. You two have aged me."
John risked the smallest of smiles in my direction.
"But do not have children with my daughter," said Mom. "Or if it is with my daughter, not anytime soon."
"Yes, ma'am." John sat in the seat beside me as I finally put my butt back in my chair. He was here. Holy shit, he was really here. At dinner. He caught my gaze wholly, handing me the second bouquet.
"Thank you," I whispered, holding on tight to the flowers. "You're here?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because this is where you are," he said, as if it were obvious.
I had nothing.
"Young love," Mom muttered under her breath. She slammed the kitchen cupboard door, rattled the cutlery drawer. All in the process of getting our guest a plate and utensils. He must have felt so welcome.
Dinner went reasonably smoothly, with Matt and John doing most of the talking. I didn't know what to say, and Mom was still in a huff. Happily, Matt dragged her and her hostility out onto the back patio after dessert, leaving John and me to clean up. We huddled near the dishwasher with our backs to the windows.
"Bravely done," I said, keeping my voice down just in case.
"Your mom's scary. But she's not junkie-with-a-gun scary."
"True."
He smiled, and I had a very small orgasm or something. I'm not sure exactly. But it felt good.
"I have to get going. Anders wants me to train with him tonight," he said. "Walk me out?"
"That should be allowed." I headed over to the sliding screen doors. "I'm just going to see John out."
"Ten minutes," said Mom. "I'm timing you."
I turned away from her and rolled my eyes. "Okay."
Outside, a cold breeze blew. An autumn wind.
"Thanks again for the flowers," I said, trying not to fidget.
"Sure."
"And for coming over."
A questioning look. "You didn't say, this morning. If you wanted to be serious."
"I don't want you to have to do this because of my mom and her new commandant status."
"Been thinking about that." He exhaled, leaning against the side of his car, watching me. All of the black paint and chrome shone in the moonlight.
Across the road, someone slammed a door, cutting off a raised voice. Otherwise, it was quiet.
"And?" I asked.
"I figure we would have wound up there anyway." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Being a couple."
The way he said the word, as if he didn't entirely trust it. No wonder I wasn't convinced. I said nothing.
With a quick frown, he pushed off from the car, cradling my face in his hands. His lips met mine and just like that, everything was better. Mouths open, tongues stroking, my arms sliding around his waist. Kissing John was everything. Well, not everything everything. I wouldn't die without him. But all of me wanted him, my heart and my head and all of the rest. Without a doubt, he made life better.
"Please don't tell me I'm going to have to get my fucking forehead tattooed before you believe me," he murmured, teeth nipping my ear.
I burst out laughing. "But it would look so pretty."
"No." His body shook with silent laughter. "Not on my forehead, anyway."
"Fine." Tears welled, but I would not cry. I wouldn't. "I lo . . . umm . . ."
"Hey?"
Holy hell, what had I been about to say? No way could I just blurt out that I loved him even if I possibly did. Shit.
He nuzzled my neck, making my head swim and my body wake right the hell up. This time I ached in the right place.
Just for a moment, I was no longer the remnants of the hostage from the Drop Stop, jumping at shadows and fl
"That's enough!" Mom hollered from the front door. Not humiliating at all.
John kissed me quick, keys freed from his pocket and jangling in one hand. "'Bye."
And all of a sudden I hated that word with a passion. Least favorite word ever. "Say 'hi' to Anders for me. See you tomorrow."
The beast's engine revved and he gave me a parting grin, driving off at an extremely safe mom-proof speed. Smart of him, really. Best not to give her anything else to criticize.
"Did you arrange that, him turning up tonight?" she asked, arms crossed yet again. "Because in the future I'd prefer to have some advance warning."
"No, I didn't have a clue."
Eyes narrowed, she studied my face.
I just waited her out.
"Okay." The aggression faded from her face, the line of her mouth relaxing. "You know I just want you safe, right?"
"Yes, but John isn't a threat. And anyway, you can't protect me from the whole world."
She harrumphed.
I turned back to the street, though his car lights were long gone. My boyfriend. Crazy.
"Be smart, honey," she said. "You're young; there's going to be others."
"He came and he said he'd do anything you wanted," I said, staring her straight in the eye. "Mom, you have to give him a chance."
She held her hands up. "I'm giving him a chance. I invited him in for dinner, didn't I?"
"Yes. Thank you."
Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms tightly around me. I hugged her back.
"Next time, though, could we possibly have less cold war across the table?" I asked.
She sighed. "Fine."
Boxes of condoms started appearing the very next day. Mom was nothing if not efficient. And she sure as hell couldn't be described as subtle. In my bathroom, my bedside table, my schoolbag--they were pretty much everywhere. By Friday, I'd prepared myself to stage an intervention regarding her prophylactic habit. I'd even get Matt involved if necessary, since he'd proven to be silently supportive of me and John.
When we studied at my place Wednesday night, Matt stayed in Mom's room, working on his laptop. Apart from the bedroom door left open, we'd been given privacy. He didn't even come looking for me for at least half an hour after I walked my boyfriend out.
Just as well.
John had me backed up against his car with his mouth on mine. My hands had been all over him, because touching him just about topped my list of favorite things to do. Luckily the shrubbery blocked the neighbor's view of our soft-porn session.
John had talked with Matt about his pool table and a possible game sometime. He complimented Matt on my skills. I'd kind of forgotten how much I liked this one of Mom's boyfriends. Despite the associated drama, it was nice to have him around again.
But back to school. Thursday lunchtime, my week was going well.
"More rubbers?" asked John quietly, sitting beside me.
Not my choice that he knew about them. A box had fallen out of my bag while I was swapping books at my locker the day before. Having already found one box hidden in a pocket of my denim jacket that day, I'd thought I'd been safe. How very wrong.
Happily, John seemed mostly amused.
"Yeah." I closed my bag before anyone else could see. "I forgot to do my morning search while I was still in the car. Insanity. She's the one who needs to have a good, long talk with the therapist."
Around us, the usual noise and chaos of the cafeteria carried on. Thank God. Sophia and Carrie were absent today, off at a school newspaper meeting or something.
"It would take us years to use all of these," I said.
"Not years."
I bumped my knee into his underneath the table. Everything we did stayed out of sight and that suited me fine. Not a problem. "No?"
"No."
"It's nearly Saturday." I took a sip of my water, keeping my eyes on him.
"It is." He watched me right back, one of those almost smiles on his lips. "Party out on Old Cemetery Road, if you want to go?"
"You didn't want to go somewhere quieter?"
The way his jaw shifted, his gaze heating, gave me goose bumps.
"Just a thought. I mean, any party will only be starting by the time my curfew kicks in."
"We could go to a movie? You know I'm good for whatever you want to do," he whispered, moving in a little closer. "Not going to pressure you about sex, Edie. I think one of Anders's friends is having a party too, if you don't want to go to the field. Might get going a bit earlier. We've got options."
"Huh? What?" Anders's head shot up from where he'd been huddled with Hang, whispering God knows what in her ear. Given her wide eyes and the way she was biting her lip, I didn't want to know. Seemed to me, they were friends in the same way John and I had been. Friends on the verge of something. Hang denied it, but all the signs were there.
"Throw some hoops?" asked Anders.
"Not yet."
"We're going to run out of time. Again. That's already happened twice this week." Turning to me, Anders scowled, heavy lines on his brow. "Just give him permission to go play already."
I scratched my cheek with my middle finger.
"It's like you have his dick on a leash or something. It's disgusting," Anders ranted, way louder than required. Though to be fair, I doubt he actually had another vocal setting.
"Shh!" I hissed.
John threw his empty soda can at him. "Shut it."
Anders caught the can with ease. "If this is what having a girlfriend is like, then I take it back, Hang. No relationship. Sorry, boo. We'll just have to keep using each other for sex and leave it at that."
"Are you joking?" I asked. When Anders didn't answer, I turned to Hang and asked again, "Is he joking?"
Staying right out of it, Hang bit into an apple.
"And anyway, it's not like that," I began. "John and I are just--"
"Oh, puh-lease," said Anders. "He's my best friend and you're . . . you. Don't lie to me."
Hang winced. "It is pretty obvious that you're together now."
"If Edie doesn't want people up in her business, that's the way it is." John checked his watch and then stood, picking his bag up off the floor. "Time for class."
Anders swore and stomped off after smacking a surprise kiss on Hang's cheek. The girl barely even bothered to look irritated about his open interest anymore.
"You think I don't want people knowing?" I asked.
John just shrugged. "Not a big deal."
Huh.
"History like mine, can't really blame you," he said, heading for the door.
"What?"
"Have a think about Saturday night and let me know what you're up for."
"John--"
He kept walking. "We're getting the grade on the paper today, right?"
"Yeah, I think so." I wandered along after him, Hang following close behind. Right on time, the bell rang out, getting everyone moving.
"Is John mad about something?" asked Hang.
"I don't know."
"It's just, he's usually next to you, you know," she said.
I watched his back disappear among the sudden crowd in the hall. "He thinks I don't want us public because of his history."
"And?"
A sudden headache bloomed behind my eyes. I rubbed at my temple, lost, confused, and quite possibly certifiably stupid. "I thought he wanted to keep it on the down low because I'm not one of the cool types or something."
"I repeat," said Hang, "he's usually hovering by your side like you're his delicate, precious little flower who might need protection from the big, bad world at any moment. Or like you might need his help smashing the patriarchy or something. I think when it comes to you, he's pretty much up for anything."
My jaw hung open.
"Does that sound like someone trying to hide the fact you're his girlfriend?"
"Really, he does that?"
She nodded.
Shit. "I'm an idiot."
"We all are sometimes."
Without further thought, I pushed through the crowd, running after him as much as I could. A couple of people swore at me, but never mind. This was urgent. Once he came into sight, I grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him to a halt. People swarmed around us like a mildly pissed-off, inconvenienced, and sweaty horde.
John just gave me a questioning look. Not a happy one.
"We need to talk," I said.
"Later."
Shit. Usually, my emotions were the mess. It had never occurred to me that John might have his own insecurities--at least, not about me. I truly was an idiot, one who needed to pay more attention.
We shuffled into class along with everyone else, taking our usual seats. Mrs. Ryder immediately started giving back the essays on Edgar Allan Poe.
"Much improved," she said, handing mine over.
"Thank you." A-minus. Awesome. A flicker of pride pulled me up straighter in my chair. I'd forgotten what this could feel like. I turned in my seat to show John, the person responsible for getting me to study and actually give a damn again. This was on him.
". . . we'll discuss this after class," Mrs. Ryder was saying, shaking the paper in front of his face. "Understood?"
"You think I didn't write this?" asked John, the momentary surprise on his face quickly tightening into anger. "You think I got someone else to do it or something. Because the work's good for a change."
Her mouth skewed.
"I read the book and then I wrote the paper."
"What's going on?" I asked, mystified.
Mrs. Ryder's gaze cut to me, her eyes hard and probing.
"What? You seriously think he didn't do it?" I asked. "That's crazy. We study together, but he does his own work."
"You study together," she repeated, as if that answered everything.
I'd never wanted to kick a teacher so badly in my life. "People aren't allowed to decide to try and do better at school?"
"Edie . . ." muttered John. "It's all right."
"Do not take that tone with me, young lady." Mrs. Ryder towered over me.
Having to look up at her only pissed me off more. "You're supposed to encourage people to learn."
"We'll discuss this after class, Mr. Cole." She dropped the paper onto his desk, condemning him with barely a glance.
"You're denying him the opportunity of an education," I said, jaw rigid.
Her hand cut through the air. "That's enough. Get out your books."
I went nuclear, heat rushing to my face. "Oh, you can go fu--"