Forks
Page 17
fourteen
After a fitful sleep, I crawled from bed and headed downstairs for some much-needed coffee. It was already after eleven and yet I still felt sleepy. I glanced around the corner, looking for Ken, but luckily he was nowhere in sight. Curious, I walked over to the front door and opened it up. My jaw fell open and my eyes bugged from their sockets.
Viktor was standing on the porch with his hand lifted, balancing two cups of coffee in a tray. I slammed the door in his face, freaking out. He was the last person I expected to see.
“Amber,” Mom said, coming down the stairs. “Who is at the door?”
“It’s Viktor,” I choked, running my hands through my tangled mass of hair, pacing back and forth.
“Why did you shut the door?” She gave me a questioning look. She was already dressed and had on her makeup.
“Look at me!” I screeched, freaking out.
“Well…” She seemed to comprehend my dilemma and widened her eyes. “Did he see you?”
“Yes, he saw me,” I complained.
“It’s too late then,” she said. “You have to get the door.”
I grabbed her hand. “Mom, please get the door and keep him busy while I fix myself.”
She shook her head like she was about to object.
“Please!”
“Oh, all right,” she exhaled and walked over to check her reflection in the mirror.
I had my foot on the stair. “Mom, he’s waiting.”
She did a fast hair flip and then smoothed the flyaway pieces. Once she was satisfied with her handiwork, she walked slowly to the door. I swear this was the slowest I had ever seen her move. A freaking turtle would have beaten her to the door. “Mom,” I groaned, impatiently.
“I got it, Amber,” she said, giving me her staple hairy eyeball. “Go, before I change my mind.” She waved me away.
Not having any alternative, I ran up the stairs and busted into the bathroom.
Ken stood there, leaning forward over the sink, wearing only a towel that hung precariously low on his trim hips.
“Sorry!”
I slammed the door and ran up the last flight of stairs to my room. “Couldn’t she have told me he was in the bathroom... Seriously?”