by Ellie Danes
“I don’t have cab fare anyway,” she said, still chewing.
Of course she didn’t have cab fare; she’d probably spent all her money getting to Trina’s and buying the damn pizza. The fact that I had cash for a cab was probably the only reason she decided to wait around for me.
And yet, I still went to get her. I gave the cabbie the address to Trina’s Pizzeria to pick up my sister’s school-skipping-ass. I was trying my very best to stay calm. I was trying to stay logical. Because, damn it all, I was trying to be a good role model. But that also meant being a steady hand. I was just never really great at doing both at the same time.
Sometimes teenagers really pissed me off. I couldn’t remember ever being so infuriating, although I’m sure I had my issues growing up, too. Even though I loved my sister—hell, she was my favorite person in the entire world — she was still a pain in the ass. All teenagers were, I guessed, but I was pretty sure Claire could hold a candle to even the biggest of high school assholes.
She stood in front of Trina’s, with her dark red hair almost matching the old brick building. She was all legs in that way that made some teenagers look totally vulnerable and young like they hadn’t quite grown into their frames yet, and they could snap like toothpicks. I felt a pang of tenderness for her, which was immediately followed by anger.
I couldn’t believe this was how my day was going.
The school I had worked so damn hard to get her into.
I’d thought—or more like hoped—that most of her immature behavior would change once she finally got into a good school. She was finally at a place that understood her and her needs. She was in a place that respected us. A place that tried to work with us on every single situation that came up.
Even this one, when there was no one other than Claire to blame.
They had been sensitive time and time again — and I was proud of the school she was attending. She should have been just as proud to be there, to be respected and to be in a place where she could not only survive, but thrive. She should have been happy to find a place where she was accepted. But to skip school like this showed that she was still impulsive and childish.
Because of that attitude, I was growing frustrated. I was trying to keep it pulled together, and I was trying to be stern without being a bitch. I didn’t want to be mean to her, and I didn’t want to seem angry, although hell, I was pissed.
She climbed into the cab with a goofy grin on her face. “Hey, sis.”
“Hey.”
“Look, I know you’re pissed. But I’ve had the absolute best morning.”
I counted to ten, and then back down again. Claire kept quiet as if she could tell I wasn’t keeping it together. I’d much rather think about Ian. I could think about our date coming up on Saturday.
The fact that I was inside my own head and ignoring Claire for the moment was probably the only thing that actually kept me from exploding at her. Because truthfully, I was still a little distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ian, and finally, we were going to meet somewhere other than a coffee shop, and for once, he wouldn’t be rushing off to work.
I wasn’t sure what it was about him that got me so giddy and so completely distracted. I’d never been so wrapped up in a man that I ignored everything and everyone else around me, yet I was completely wrapped up in him. A man had never caused a breath to catch in my throat when I saw him. I had never before wondered about a man more in my entire life.
For some reason, I wanted to know Ian’s entire story.
But I couldn’t just sit like a silly girl, daydreaming about him and constantly wondering about who he was. At that moment, I had a teenager to scold, and I had to be diplomatic about it so she wouldn’t spiral out of control.
“I saved you some pizza,” Claire said, pulling a foil-wrapped slice out of her messenger bag.
Being trapped in a cab with someone that you’re angry with is never easy, especially for me. I have never been the type of woman to really enjoy confrontation. And I sure as hell didn’t want to be shoved in a small, confined space when it was time for said confrontation.
With Claire beside me, smelling like Trina’s special marinara sauce and her masculine, spicy shampoo, all I wanted was to lunge out of the car and run far, far away before I slapped her for being such a pain in the ass.
I gripped the seat beside me, digging my nails into it uncomfortably. I was ready to launch the door open and bail out. Possibly into moving traffic. Anything that would end this uncomfortable situation.
I didn’t want to always be the mature one. I didn’t want to be the party pooper. I wanted to be the fun older sister. I wanted to be the one with no cares or worries. But I always had to be responsible, at least with Claire. Because if I weren't responsible, no one else would step up, and then where would we be? We’d be finding Claire locked in the bathroom and threatening to get drunk on mouthwash.
Ignoring the pizza slice she held out like a peace offering, I finally spoke.
“Do you realize what I did to get you into this school?” I never snapped. Especially in front of strangers like the cabbie who seemed to be doing everything in his power to ignore the drama unfolding behind him. But I didn’t care — I was way too angry to care.
She rolled her eyes, and immediately I felt even more irritated.
“Do not roll your eyes at me like I’m Dad,” I said.
“It’s just that you’re not really good at being stern,” she joked. “And that’s usually…”
My mouth twisted, but not with humor. “What?”
I felt more confused by the minute — partly because my mind was elsewhere, but partly because Claire and every other teenager in the world barely made any damn sense.
“I mean, usually, you’re not good at being all stern, but right now, you’re freaking terrible.” She giggled. “It’s like you lost your mojo — what little of it you had in the first place.”
She threw a sideways grin at me. She was amused about something. Or high. I stared hard at her eyes, trying to see if her pupils were too dilated or some shit like that. She’d never been into drugs, thank goodness, but who knew what she’d turn to next?
“Just got stuff on my mind," I said, speaking nothing but the truth.
“What is it, dick on the brain?”
She was joking. I knew she was, but she wasn't far off from the truth. She was so close, in fact, that I knew that the strong red blush that rose up in my cheeks gave it away, and immediately I watched as she grinned menacingly.
“And what do you know about that?" I asked, not as much appalled as I was interested. I should have been appalled, I realized, but Claire and I had the weirdest relationship ever. On one hand, she was basically like my child, with all the responsibility I’d had with her, and on the other, she was definitely my sister. And it was nice to joke with her every now and then — about boys, and sex, and whatever else we could muster up.
“Holy shit! Is that seriously what it is?!” she laughed.
It was, in a way. I had Ian on my mind. His dick was there, too — but that wasn’t the entirety of it. But I didn't want to tell her that she was even close to on-the-money.
“No!” I yelled, swatting at her knee.
“But there is something on your mind!" she yelled. "What is it?” she pressed. “Come on...what is it…" She jabbed me in the side with her pointed index finger, teasing me. “What is it...what is it…"
Persistence always was her forte, and she knew better than anyone on the planet how to get to me.
“Enough!" I smacked her hand away, but not without a laugh escaping me. I'd tried to stifle my own laughter, but I couldn’t. It was nice to see Claire in a good mood. It really was moments like this one that made me really happy to have a sister. Even one as much of a pain in the ass as her.
“Just tell me what it is!” she pressed some more.
I couldn’t help but wonder if the cab driver was getting annoyed when I heard him grumble something and lean fo
rward, adjusting the radio knobs.
“It’s a guy that’s on my brain, but not his ‘dick,’” I whispered, embarrassed, sounding like the Virgin Mary on the last word. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I wasn’t usually so shy, but here I was, blushing as I looked down — shy as I’d ever known myself to be. But hell, Claire wasn’t usually so crass, either. It was weird thinking of her old enough to use that sort of language, let alone to even think about dicks at all.
I could see her in my peripheral vision. Her mouth was open in shock and glee, and I could see excitement dance all over her face as she immediately brightened up. It never seemed fair that Claire always seemed able to read my mind.
I couldn’t say anything. All I could do was lamely shift my thoughts to him and blush freaking crimson.
“There is a guy!” She giggled again and bounced up and down. She let out one of those breathy, annoying squeals that could make anyone’s ears bleed. “I wondered why you were so soft on me!”
I felt my cheeks burn and ache with a frustrating blush. I hated that Ian was making me a weird teenage girl again. Well, there was no use hiding it from Claire. Besides, maybe confessing some of my own secrets would help her open up to me and talk about why she’d really skipped school.
“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I said.
“I knew you were distracted!” She was grinning — widely. Probably wider than I had seen her grin in a long time.
“Yeah, clearly you’re a teenager, and that automatically means you know everything,” I shot sarcastically.
“Glad you see it my way!”
I rolled my eyes.
“Well, I think it’s great.” She smiled, finally calming down.
An awkward sort of silence filled the cab, but the cabbie still adjusted the radio volume. He was probably annoyed beyond belief. I had to wonder how many awkward and stupid conversations he heard every day — and I wondered what he thought about everything.
Claire leaned her head on my shoulder, and her voice cut the quiet music filtering to the back of the cab. “Honestly, I think it’s about time you got laid.”
I nearly choked on air, and it felt like I had literally sucked it all in because there wasn’t any more left to breathe. I gasped out.
“You really don’t need to be talking about that kind of stuff,” I said in between coughs, horrified that my little sister wanted to talk about sex in a cab of all places. I didn’t mind that she talked about sex; I wasn’t stupid, and I sure as hell wasn’t naive. I knew she knew. She had known for a long time, and that was a good thing.
I was probably the biggest advocate for good Sex Ed on any day of the week, but it didn’t change the fact that I hated that my little sister was growing up and that she was thinking about sex as a way of feeling better, or as a stress reliever. Worse, that she was thinking those things about me and my sex life, and talking about them out loud. In front of a cab driver, whose eyes were now twinkling with what I guessed was mirth.
“I just think that if you have a boyfriend,” she said, “you’re finally going to get off my back.” She laughed. “So, do you have a boyfriend, is that what he is?”
I shook my head. “I just sort of met a guy. I met him a few days ago when I ran out after a fight with Dad.”
“And what, are you saying it was love at first sight?”
I scoffed. “Hardly!” I turned to her. “He hardly gave me the time of day the first time we saw each other. He was too wrapped up in his own little un-caffeinated world.”
“Then he’s a waste of space.”
“Claire!” I laughed. I could tell she was kidding, well, a part of her was kidding. She was always protective of me, even though I was older. She thought the world of me, I knew that. “But no, he’s a really nice guy. I really like him, I think.”
“So love at second sight?”
“It’s not love, you weirdo.” I blushed. “But I would say he’s definitely someone I would like to get to know. He definitely piques my curiosity.”
“Who the hell uses phrases like ‘piques my curiosity’?” she groaned. “Is he hot?”
“He’s very, very good-looking.” I hated talking to my sister about “hot” guys. I wanted to be mature about it, but the truth was, Ian was fucking hot. I just didn’t want to describe him like that to my sister.
“So is he like one of those underwear models hot or like boy band hot?”
I laughed and punched her shoulder. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to her interesting comparisons.
“He looks like he’s in great shape.” I was smiling ear-to-ear with probably a bright red blush covering my face, but even though I was uncomfortable, I was still glad to have the sisterly talk about guys. “Anyway, we just agreed to go out on Saturday.”
“Sis is about to get some booty!” She clapped. “Thank God!”
I rolled my eyes. “On a more serious note.” I scooted to the side so I could look at her with my eyes narrowed. I was serious. “You really do need to stop skipping school or you’ll get kicked out.”
She rolled her eyes, but I shook my head.
“Stop,” I warned. “I worked really hard to get you into Manchester.”
Claire’s attention fell to the floorboard of the cab and her eyes closed. I watched as her chest heaved a deep breath and I knew that she hated letting me down. But I really had to drive it home — I had to make her understand.
“Dad didn’t see the purpose of paying for your school anymore because you kept getting kicked out of the others.” I sighed. “I’m paying for Manchester. I really want you to have everything and Manchester can give you the resources to do that.”
I put my arm around her shoulders. Her eyes were still closed, and I watched as a single tear fell down her cheek.
“I love you,” I whispered, pulling her closer. I placed a small kiss on the top of her head. “It’s me and you.”
She nodded and nuzzled into me. Before I knew it, her head was against my chest, and I was holding her. “I just need you to try and manage your anxiety and depression — for me.”
She nodded again.
I sighed. I really did love this girl.
Chapter 12
Ian
I kept glancing at my watch. She was late. Really late. Well, not really — not in normal people time. But she was really late in my time. In my time everything was on schedule, and if someone was just minutes late, they might as well have been hours late.
The fact that I was early made the situation even worse. It made it seem like she was even later than she actually was.
The waitress had already started to glance at me with one of those looks. It was the type of look that screamed out just how pathetic I was for still waiting. The type of look that really did pity me. The type of look that seemed to suspect that I had just been stood up.
But had I?
I hadn’t gotten that sort of impression from Kate at all. She had seemed genuinely interested in coming to meet me. So I didn’t really buy the whole, I-got-stood-up scenario. There was definitely something else — something more to the story.
I hoped she was all right.
I sighed as I saw my waitress refill water glasses at the table just a few feet from me. It was probably only a matter of seconds before she made her way back around to my table to ask if I needed anything— just as she had been doing every three minutes or so for the past half hour.
I wanted to slam my head down on the table. Honestly, if it came down to that or more pity stares, I probably would have followed through with the head slamming.
It wasn’t bad enough that I was almost ready to give up on Kate, but I had to be stared at by random strangers in the process?
But just when I was about to reach my hand up to gesture toward the waitress to bring the check, a fiery redhead caught my eye. She was aimed right for me.
Her ankle boots were clanking hard and quickly against the restaurant’s tile floor. The sounds were so loud that I could
hear them from across the busy dining area. Her hair bounced like a model’s in a shampoo commercial as she hurried toward me.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she gasped as soon as she was close enough to speak.
I stood for a moment and gestured for her to have a seat. But not without craning my neck to give the waitress a cheeky grin first.
“I was having an argument with my dad,” she explained as she removed her coat and sat down. She twirled her scarf off of her neck. I tried not to imagine the whole process as a striptease—the coat, the scarf. I would’ve given anything to be those clothes, so close and snug against her skin.
“You guys have quite a few doozies every now and then, huh?” I asked as I pulled my napkin off the table and laid it in my lap.
“We do.” She sighed, almost sadly. It looked like she was really upset.
What kind of guy would I have been if I just let that go?
“What was it over? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“My sister.” Her voice was flat. It was like her mind was somewhere else entirely. “It’s always about Claire or my career path. One of the two—sometimes both.”
I shifted back in my seat and watched as her eyes watered with emotion. I wondered if they were tears of anger, or tears of sadness. But it didn't really matter; the point was that she was upset. I hated when women cried. I hated, even more, when I couldn’t do anything about it.
Our date wasn’t exactly starting out as planned. I felt some pressure to cheer her up, to fix her problems so we could move on to the “getting to know each other” stage, which, if I were lucky, would lead toward the “getting to know each other’s bodies” stage. My attraction to Kate was more than physical, but there was still a heavily physical aspect to it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“Our fights just got so much worse after I decided to get my Master’s in Education,” she said, her composure breaking. “That’s what really sealed the deal for him; that was when he knew that I wasn’t coming into the business with him like my brother did.”
“He’ll get over it,” I said as I leaned forward. I wanted her to be positive. I knew what it was like to have a hard-ass for a father. “Tough dads still love their kids. It’s just harder to get through to them. But really, you’re a great person, and he must see that.”
