His cheeks flushed red under his stubble, but he returned the sentiment readily. “I love you, too, Silas.”
Nodding, I wiggled my fingers in a wave. “Okay, erm, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
By the time I showered and crawled into bed, I had three unread text messages. The first was from Will, wishing me a happy birthday, and I replied with a thanks and a picture of my watch. The second was from Ben.
Ben: I’m heading to bed. Hope you survived. Talk to you tomorrow.
Silas: I’m alive, thanks for your concern. P.S. Dad wants you to come over for my birthday, so just stop in whenever, I guess.
I waited for a response, but he must have been asleep already.
Opening the third and final text, my cloud-nine high sobered to irritation as Unknown sat in my inbox. Seriously? When was the phone company going to stop these random alerts?
Unknown: Happy Birthday.
Hmm, that was weird. Unknown had never actually spoken to me before. I’d assumed it was a strange phone test system gone wonky, but now…
Silas: Who is this?
Again, I waited for a reply that never arrived.
Annoyed, I plugged in my phone and snuggled into my blankets. Maybe one of my friends had a new number and forgot to tell me. Or it was a prank. It wouldn’t be the first time my phone number was found and distributed through the school grapevine. Since freshman year, I’d changed my number twice to escape the annoying, sometimes insulting messages.
Whatever, I was over it. Whoever it was could suck a tailpipe.
With that pleasant thought, I buried myself in my bedding and grinned when the stubborn moonlight fighting through my closed blinds glinted off my watch. I caressed the smooth glass, giddy joy bubbling in my stomach, as I drifted off to sleep.
Seventeen
Like every other birthday, my eighteenth started lazy. Dad made waffles and sausages for brunch, and we spent the late morning and afternoon in our pajamas watching the first and second Godfather movies.
I texted Ben after he finished with his morning swim practice, and he promised to come by later in the afternoon. Of course, he had questioned his safety in my father’s presence, the sassy smart ass.
Ben: Should I be expecting a shotgun-armed conversation about my intentions for you?
Silas: Last time I checked, you didn’t knock me up, so I’m sure he’ll keep the shotgun locked away in the closet.
Ben: Thank God for small mercies.
Dad watched me curiously as I snickered at my phone, but whenever I glanced his way in question, he focused on the TV and pretended he hadn’t been looking. Weirdo.
It wasn’t until the credits of Godfather II rolled down the screen that I noticed the time. A half-empty bag of Cheetos rested on my stomach, the cheesy powder staining my fingertips, and I gawked at the hour hand hovering over the four.
Shit, it was already that late?
“I’m gonna go change.” I tossed the bag of snacks onto the couch and rose to my feet. Dad’s jaw dropped, his eyebrows rising in astonishment at my declaration like I’d divulged the fact Ben had, against all scientific odds, impregnated me. “What?”
“You’re going to shower and put on actual clothes on your birthday?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who are you, and what have you done with my son Silas?”
“Har, har, you’re so funny. Are you actually complaining about me being hygienic?”
His hands rose in surrender as amusement flickered over his face. “Of course not. I’m sure it has nothing to do with a certain boy coming over soon, right?”
“Oh my God, Dad.” I sent him a petulant glare full of as much teenage angst as I could muster. “Can you please not embarrass me today? Make it an early Christmas present for me and just not.”
He shrugged in reply, neither a confirmation nor a denial. “Better get a move on.” He tapped his watch. “Tick, tock.”
I huffed out an annoyed growl, not gracing him with a verbal response, before taking the stairs two at a time to my bedroom.
Once showered and dressed, I tugged a white T-shirt reading, Zero F*cks Given, across the chest over my head then wiggled myself into my favorite pair of skinny jeans. I styled my hair with wax and, deeming myself dapper enough, left my bedroom barefoot a few minutes later.
The moment I appeared in the living room, Dad crinkled the top of his newspaper, studying me through the lenses of his reading glasses. The entertainment returned to his eyes.
I blushed, irritated at the silent humor pouring off him in waves.
“Yes, I dressed up for my boyfriend. Sue me!” I plopped onto the couch with a dignified harrumph.
Dad chuckled and returned his attention back to his paper. “I didn’t say a thing.”
I stuck my tongue out childishly.
His chuckle rose in volume. “It’s just nice to see you like this, Silas, that’s all.”
“Like what?” I folded my legs in front of me, crisscross applesauce, and feigned interest in my phone.
Dad mulled over his words for a moment before giving me a teasing smile. “Twitterpated.”
“God, that’s so embarrassing.”
The doorbell rang, and I sprang to my feet like I’d been electrocuted. I smoothed my clothes and instinctively flitted a hand over my hair before remembering my dad sat in his La-Z-Boy right beside me. Hiding behind his newspaper, he didn’t say a word, but the paper shook and crackled from his silent laughter.
“Please, don’t be weird,” I begged one last time as I walked to the door.
He didn’t answer.
When I opened the door, cold winter air rushed over me along with a gust of stray snowflakes. Ben grinned, looking adorable in his winter coat, fluffy hat, and gloves. His cheeks were a beautiful rosy pink from the chill, and his blue eyes sparkled as he ran his gaze over my body. With a cheek-splitting smile, I stepped to the side and ushered him in out of the cold.
Setting a large gift bag on the floor, Ben removed his gloves and stuffed them into the pockets of his winter coat, stamping the snow from his boots.
I took his coat and hung it on the rack as he removed his shoes and hat. His fingers shook out the blond locks, the curls shorter than they’d been last night, and I whimpered in horror.
“What did you do?” I cried, petting his freshly cut hair. “What did Ben do to you, my darlings?”
“Are you seriously talking to my hair, right now?”
“Yes, and you killed them! So, shush.”
He chortled as I grieved the loss of length to his gorgeous waves. “It was way too long. I looked like Medusa.”
“Maybe I think Medusa’s sexy,” I grumbled, my mock outrage cracking as I chuckled.
“Do you really hate it?” His snarky delivery veiled the underlying insecurity of his question, and I instantly shook my head.
“Of course not, you idiot. You look great. I mean, you always look great, no matter what. But, no, it’s a nice cut.” The sides were shorter than I’d ever seen them, the top slightly longer and lying in crimpy chaos.
A throat cleared, and I yelped, jerking my hands from Ben’s hair as I was reminded, once again, of my dad’s presence in our midst. He stood beside the coffee table, arms crossed over his chest as he watched our exchange. Puzzlement and mirth warred for dominance in his dark eyes. He arched one thick brow at me as my neck warmed to surface-of-the-sun levels.
“Right, Dad, you know Ben.”
Ben swiftly offered his hand, and Dad shook it. “Ben, good to see you again.”
“You, too, Charlie. Thanks for letting me crash Silas’s birthday.” Ben’s charming smile was firmly in place, and Dad’s shoulders relaxed.
He sent me a mischievous wink, and my stomach spiraled to my toes. “Not a problem. Just keep your shirt on this time.”
“Dad!” I whined, pushing his shoulder. “Oh my God, can you not?”
As my dad chuckled to himself, Ben flushed salmon, rubbing the back of his neck as he playe
d off his embarrassment. “Right, of course. I, uh, I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Good choice.”
Glaring at my dad, I lowered my voice to a hiss. “Hey, remember how we talked about you not embarrassing me? You’re doing a really shitty job!”
He rumbled with laughter, ignoring my wrath as he addressed Ben again. “Silas wants Chinese. What should I order for you?”
“Chicken fried rice and an egg roll is fine. Thanks, Charlie.”
Dad nodded, disappearing into the kitchen without even asking what I wanted. I groaned into my palms as I mashed my face into Ben’s chest. Sure, I’d never had a boyfriend before, so Dad never had the opportunity to tease me about it, but I honestly hadn’t expected this side to him. It must have been a part of the Dad-code to always embarrass children in front of prospective love interests.
“I’m sorry. I told him not to be weird!” I pouted into his shirt, and Ben rubbed the back of my neck with an amused sigh.
“It’s fine, Silas.” He snuck a kiss to my temple, and I wrapped my arms around his waist with a silly grin. “You look nice, by the way.”
And my silly grin widened. “Thanks. You, too.”
I peeked behind my shoulder to double-check we were alone before popping onto my toes and kissing him full on the mouth. He smiled against my lips, kissing me back more reserved than I wanted.
“He’s on the phone,” I muttered. “Kiss me.”
“Don’t you want presents?”
Pursing my lips, I contemplated the benefits of making out versus the pros of receiving presents. “Why not both?”
He framed my face with his hands and kissed me deeply before disconnecting us too soon and reaching for the gift bag he’d discarded by the coat rack. He dangled it before my eyes as I wiggled my fingers expectantly. I snatched it from his grasp, shaking it obnoxiously beside my ear.
“I’m gonna guess…” I made a show of smelling it, weighing it in my hands, and even tasting the edge, smacking my tongue against my lips.
Ben’s repressed laughter escaped as a snort.
I ripped the tissue paper out of the top. “It’s a large, cardboard coupon book for sexual favors.”
He balked, eyes wide and cheeks red. “What? No.”
“Pity,” I teased as he grunted indignantly.
“I can honestly say, the thought never crossed my mind.”
With an exaggerated jut to my lip, I removed several thin, rectangular boxes from the bag, and my pout morphed into puzzlement. “What’s all this?”
It was silly to ask since I could clearly see the art supplies, but it was unexpected, taking me off guard. Paintbrushes, oil paint, acrylic, watercolor, and a box of charcoal lay stacked in the gift bag, and I eyed the large sketchbook in my hand warily.
“I wasn’t sure which medium you preferred, so now you have options to choose from.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight. “I thought you might need these for your art class next semester. And maybe for personal use, too.”
Swallowing thickly, I explored the supplies as my smile grew with each gift. First, my birthday watch and Dad’s acceptance, and now Ben being all sweet and amazing. It was officially the best birthday I ever had.
“Thanks, Ben.” I slid everything back into the gift bag and set it on the ground before leaping into his arms for an enthusiastic embrace. “Can’t wait to try them out.”
“Really? You like it?”
Did he really think I’d hate his gift? Silly boy, he could be so insecure sometimes. “Yes, really. I love it.”
He kissed me, cutting off my gratefulness with his luscious lips, and I melted into him like pudding.
“Thanks, Ben,” I whispered against his lips when we parted, and he brushed our noses together.
“You’re welcome.” He pecked my mouth again. “Happy birthday.”
When Dad returned to the living room, we made ourselves comfortable and made small talk as we waited for the food to arrive.
“So, Silas tells me you’re into sports?” Dad phrased it like a question, and Ben nodded.
“I mean, not a lot of sports, but I’m a diver, and I played baseball back in California.”
I spun on him. “You did? You never told me that.”
Shrugging, he laughed off my accusation. “I guess it never came up. I’m not great at baseball, but it’s fun.”
“I played shortstop in high school and some in college.” My dad leaned forward, excitement glittering to life in his eyes. “What position do you play?”
“I’m a pitcher, usually, but I can play outfield when needed.”
They launched into a discussion about baseball, and I tuned out most of it as I played with Ben’s hand in my lap. Will was always the athlete, playing football, basketball, and baseball in high school. It was one reason he chose UCLA for college. He received a partial sport’s scholarship.
Me? I was never good at anything remotely active. I was a couch potato, through and through.
It was clear Ben and my dad were going to get along swimmingly. When Dad exhausted the subject of baseball, they moved on to football. Eventually, I got bored, but I was happy my dad seemed to like him, so I didn’t interrupt their male bonding.
Finally, the Chinese food arrived, and we shifted the conversation to the dining room as we divvied up the boxes. Dad ordered me chicken lo mein and dumplings, and my stomach gurgled in anticipation. Still discussing whether the Colts had a shot at making the Super Bowl, Dad and Ben ate more civilized than I did. With nothing to occupy my mouth, I shoveled food into it ravenously.
“You said you’re from California?” Dad asked when I was halfway through my lo mein, and Ben nodded. “What brought your folks this way?”
Swallowing his bite, Ben wiped his lips with a napkin. “I actually live with my aunt and uncle. My mom died a few years back.”
Dad’s face paled with guilt, then pity. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. It was rough, but my aunt and uncle are the best. I mean, they put up with me, so...”
Nudging his shoulder, I snorted at his self-deprecating grin. “Yeah, ’cause you’re such a wild child.”
Ben elbowed me right back, and I sniggered into my plate of food as my dad cleared his throat. “Well, still, it’s hard losing a parent. We’ve been without Silas’s mom for a while now, but it’s still not easy.”
My fork clattered against my plate, the utensil slipping through my fingers as I rounded on Dad with wide eyes. Was he seriously bringing up Mom, right now?
“You make it sound like we misplaced her at the grocery store,” I snapped. “We didn’t lose her, Dad. She fucking left!”
“Silas.” Ben’s hand covered my wrist, but I withdrew from his touch, glaring daggers as my dad’s face splotched in embarrassment.
“Watch your language.” The rebuke was soft, easily ignored, but I flinched all the same as Dad cleared his throat. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be insensitive or compare the two—”
Ben dismissed the apology quickly, shooting me a chiding look. “It’s fine, Charlie. It’s hard losing a parent, no matter how it happens.”
The flowing conversation jilted as awkwardness infiltrated the room, and we ate in uncomfortable silence for several minutes.
Unable to bear the painful quiet, my motormouth sped off. “This is fun. We should have awkward dinners more often.”
Dad huffed in exasperation, genuine frustration sparking in his eyes. “Silas Mackenzie!”
Ben’s head shot up, eyes large as dinner plates as his mouth gaped, and my appetite vanished.
“No!” I went limp as a ragdoll, sliding from my chair and collapsing on the floor as I moaned in horror. “Dad, why? Why!”
“Your middle name’s Mackenzie?” Ben’s face lit with glee, and I wailed like a dying walrus.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Silas. Get off the floor.” Dad’s voiced pinched with aggravation. “It’s a family name, after Grace’s father, Mac. I don’t understan
d why you act this way. Your brother’s named after Grandad!”
Sulking, I curled into a ball and lamented the misfortune of being me in this moment. “Yeah, Bruce. William Bruce. Manly as fuck! And I get Mackenzie!”
“Silas, watch your language!”
Between my whale-like groans and Dad’s booming rebuke, it was near impossible to hear anything else. But I could detect Ben’s laughter anywhere, and I fell silent as his suppressed giggles interrupted our family squabble.
Sitting up, I glowered at my boyfriend, his hand on his mouth as his cheeks flamed with amusement. Dad stood beside the table, caught between entertainment and irritation, but he soon joined Ben, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation.
Soon, they were guffawing whole-heartedly. I staggered to my feet, irate.
“No! We are not laughing about this.” I stamped my foot like a child, spurring Ben on as he wrapped his arms around his middle to hold himself together. “No! It’s not funny. It’s child abuse. Argh! You guys are the worst.”
With a snarl, I stalked to the refrigerator and snatched my ice cream cake from the freezer. Ignoring the laughing duo, I escaped to the living room and stabbed at my cake viciously with my fork.
I ate the delicious dessert alone, grumbling internally the whole time.
At long last, the obnoxious laughter faded, and hushed conversation reached my ears. Judging from the clink of dinnerware, I assumed Dad was cleaning up the dishes, and I stubbornly disregarded Ben when he cautiously approached the couch.
“You’re not getting any,” I bit out waspishly, shoving another bite of ice cream into my mouth.
Circling my neck with his arms from behind, Ben rested his chin on my head. He sighed.
I ignored him.
“You’re acting petty.” When I remained quiet, he nuzzled my hair with his nose. “I think Silas Mackenzie has a nice ring to it.”
I grunted wordlessly.
“Si, come on, you’re being really immature, right now.”
If looks could kill, Ben would have exploded into flames under the heat of my glare as I rubbernecked to look behind me. “Fuck you.”
Every Hidden Truth (Far From Ruined Book 2) Page 18
