by Debra Doxer
“I bet it hasn’t changed much. I get the feeling this place never changes.”
“You don’t like Glenn Valley?”
Jonah shrugged before leaning back in the booth and glancing around.
“Where did you live before?” I figured I’d give the question another shot. He’d asked me a question. It was only fair.
As he scratched his stubbled cheek, his eyes stopped wandering and settled on me. “All over. We move around a lot.”
I sighed. That was a vague answer. “Okay, but where did you live right before you moved here?”
Jonah stared at me for a beat before laughing quietly. “You’re really curious about where I used to live.”
My jaw clenched. “Actually, I’m not. I was making conversation, but the fact that you obviously don’t want to answer is turning it into a much bigger deal.”
He chuckled again. “Sorry, Seaborne. I don’t mind answering. We lived in Massachusetts.”
Massachusetts. Why didn’t he just say so in the first place? Geez. “If I ask you why you move around so much, will you tell me? Or will you give me a hard time for asking.”
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “My dad’s job is the reason. He’s a computer engineer. He consults with companies around the country, taking a job for a year or so and then moving on to the next place.”
Even though I detected his dislike for Glenn Valley, I didn’t sense any animosity when he talked about moving so much. “That has to be hard,” I said. “Changing schools so often, especially since you play football. You must have to keep trying out in every new place.”
“I like football, but if I couldn’t play I wouldn’t care.”
That sort of surprised me. Most jocks were full of themselves, no matter how lousy they played.
“What about the rest of your family? Do they mind all the moving?” After claiming not to be interested, I realized my questions were piling up. But Jonah didn’t call me out about it again.
“It’s just me and my dad.”
I stared at him. His family was like mine, and in the next breath, he said so.
“It’s only you and your dad at home too, right?”
“Right,” I replied, knowing my family situation was common knowledge. But his wasn’t, and I wondered what happened to his mother. I wouldn’t ask, though, because then he might ask about mine, and I wasn’t about to share something so personal with him yet.
Besides, the real reason we were here had been delayed long enough.
“So, tell me how you knew about Mr. Harris.”
His lips turned down, and he shifted in his seat. At that inopportune moment, our meals arrived and Jonah welcomed the diversion, focusing on his plate. My own stomach growled loudly at the sight of the sloppy cheeseburger. When Jonah laughed, I knew he’d heard it.
“Your stomach is pissed at you for skipping lunch again. Dig in and put it out of its misery.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I looked down at the burger, knowing there was no neat and demure way to eat it. There was nothing to do but get sloppy and greasy and just not care.
Jonah seemed to be watching me, wondering if I’d pull some girly maneuver, like taking a tiny nibble off the side and going right for my napkin.
It was his unspoken challenge that had me grip it in both hands, bring it up to my mouth, and take a huge bite. The moment the tangy saltiness hit my tongue, I was in heaven.
“This is sooo good,” I said with my mouth full, feeling the juice drip down my chin.
Jonah smiled around his food, then he did something surprising. He picked up his napkin, reached across the table, and gently wiped my chin clean.
I froze and so did he, looking as if he’d shocked himself with the gesture.
Clearing his throat, he put the napkin down and concentrated on eating again, but I had a harder time going for the next bite since my stomach felt funny now, filled with flutters that disrupted my digestion.
Jonah inhaled the rest of his food, giving it his full attention, while I stopped at the halfway point, too full to eat another bite.
“Harris slept with my girlfriend last year.”
My eyes rounded, and I nearly choked. “What?”
He wiped his hands on his napkin and sat back. “By the look on your face, I’m guessing you heard me.”
“Mr. Harris slept with your girlfriend.” I repeated it just to be sure. It was like he slid it in there, hoping I’d miss it.
“Harris pulled the same thing with her about the tutoring, but obviously he was interested in more than that.”
I kept staring at him. He’d related it so abruptly and casually, it took a moment to fully register. “Heather?”
He shook his head. “Heather was never my girlfriend. It was someone else.”
So he had two girls in his Glenn Valley past. That shouldn’t have surprised me. There were probably lots more left behind in all the places he’d lived. “And she told you this?”
Jonah nodded again.
“So your girlfriend cheated on you with Mr. Harris?”
He snorted. “Should I draw you a picture? Would that make it clearer? And if you could repeat it a few more times, that would be great.”
I sat back and scowled, but I wasn’t really annoyed. I was used to disingenuous guys trying to sweet-talk me and kiss up like crazy to get into my pants. But Jonah was a sarcastic douche bag instead. There had to be something wrong with me, because I liked his approach better.
“Give me a break,” I said. “This isn’t the kind of thing I hear every day. I’m a little shocked.”
“Sorry, you’re right.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I guess I’m still a little touchy about it.”
He had every right to be touchy and more. Losing his girl to a teacher? That had to hurt, never mind the fact that it was completely inappropriate.
“Did anyone find out?”
He shook his head. “Harris had already broken it off with her by the time she told me. Yes,” he said, pausing as he watched me. “He broke it off with her. She was eighteen, so it was completely unethical, but I don’t think it was illegal.”
“Wow,” I repeated, because I didn’t know what else to say. He’d been cheated on too, and his girlfriend cheated with a teacher, no less. I didn’t know if that was better or worse than what happened to me. Probably it felt about the same. Getting cheated on sucked. End of story.
“Well, I’m really sorry that happened,” I said sincerely. “And thanks for playing interference for me with Harris, but for the record, I was never in any danger of falling for him.”
Jonah eyed me skeptically. “Is that so?”
“What can I say? Lecherous teachers who treat their classrooms like singles bars don’t turn me on.”
He laughed quietly before leaning in across the table. “Then tell me, what does turn you on?” His question held a challenge.
Luckily, the voice screaming You! stayed locked inside my head. I met his gaze. “You really want to know?”
Jonah nodded, interest sparking in his eyes.
I leaned in closer, racking my brain for a clever response, something sexy and flirty. But two words kept repeating in my head that sounded anything but sexy, and for some reason, I found myself saying them. “Nice guys. That’s what turns me on.”
Jonah leaned back, surprise coloring his features.
“In theory, at least,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve never met one, so I can’t say for sure.”
Cocking his head to the side, he studied me. “How do you know you’ve never met one?”
I laughed at his serious question. “You’re not going to tell me you’re one, are you?”
He grinned. “No. I’m not a nice guy.”
“Then I guess you don’t turn me on.”
Jonah leaned in again, close enough that I could see the toffee-colored rings in his irises. “That’s good. Because you don’t turn me on either.”
His eyes held mine with a smoldering look
that belied his words. I swallowed, trying not to lower my gaze to his lips, because if I did, he would know I was wondering what it felt like to kiss him.
Jonah broke the spell first, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he sat back, the look in his eyes telling me he knew what I was thinking. Well, I knew what he was thinking too. I narrowed my eyes at him. We were both such liars.
When Sam brought the check, we argued briefly because Jonah refused to let me pay my half. That is, I argued. He ignored me and just did what he wanted, which was to pay the whole bill.
Soon we were back in the Jeep, driving the short distance to Edgewood Road. When he parked in front of my house, he asked, “You’ll keep what I told you about Harris between us?”
“Of course. But he should probably be fired.”
Jonah shrugged. “Katelyn didn’t want anyone to know, and it wasn’t my secret to tell.”
Katelyn. That was her name. I pictured a tall, willowy girl, and without even knowing her, I hated her. “Well, thanks . . . for everything.”
His gaze held mine as he said, “You’re welcome. See ya, Seaborne.”
“See ya, Bryson,” I responded, but before I got out, I felt the need to do something nice for him. Telling me about Katelyn couldn’t have been easy.
Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the clear plastic container with my two muffins inside and handed it to him. He stared at it, looking bewildered.
“Just another thank-you,” I explained. Then I jumped out and headed into the house before he could say anything about it.
***
Theo: Dream big and dare to fail.
My stomach was still full from the late-afternoon cheeseburger I’d eaten as I spread the sauce over the lasagna noodles. I was staring into the pan, looking at the long strips of pasta, but I kept seeing Jonah’s face and the way he’d looked at me when he wiped juice off my chin. The chemistry between us was undeniable, even though we were both denying it anyway. We were the walking wounded, neither of us wanting to get involved again and risk getting burned. At least, that was my story, and based on what he’d told me, I assumed it was his too. Like the absence of our moms, it was another thing we had in common.
While the lasagna was baking, I got started on my homework. The afternoon light darkened, so I turned on some music and walked around the house, turning lights on. As I passed my father’s bedroom, I decided to have another look at the safe in the back of his closet. My curiosity about it hadn’t faded, and I had a few more combination ideas I wanted to try.
After flicking the light on, I walked into the closet and found my mother’s clothes. Pushing them aside, I looked down to find nothing there, just beige carpet with a square indentation where the safe had once sat.
“Damn,” I muttered, glancing around in case my father had moved it. After a few minutes of searching, I knew it wasn’t in the closet anymore. Once I’d put everything back, I turned off the light and walked out, disappointed.
I was sitting at the kitchen table when my father came in the door that night. Right off, he was on me about college again, but I had changed my approach, having decided through the course of the day that it was easier to give in than to fight him on this. Applying to college didn’t mean I had to go. There was still plenty of time to change his mind.
“You’re right. I should keep all my options open. I’ll need money for the application fees.”
He squinted at me, suspicious of my sudden change of heart. “Do you have a first choice? And I know it’s not any of those colleges you have sitting on your desk.”
My plan to appease him with the applications I’d picked up in the school office hadn’t worked. “I want to be in the city. So maybe NYU.” It was the truth if I actually wanted to go to college.
My father smiled. “It would be nice to have you close by, little one.”
I pursed my lips. I was doing what he wanted, so apparently I was his little one again.
During dinner, I decided to ask him about the safe, but I waited until he was halfway through his lasagna and already complimenting me on how delicious it was.
“I saw it in your closet,” I explained, knowing he wouldn’t mind my being in there since I often went in to see my mother’s things.
“I know you found it.” He swallowed and looked at me. “You always were a curious girl, Candy.”
“Did you move it because of me?” I asked, and when he said no in an offhand way, I pressed on. “Does what’s in it have something to do with Mom?”
My father looked up. “It doesn’t matter. The safe has nothing to do with you. Now tell me about school. Have your old friends welcomed you back?”
I narrowed my eyes, not surprised that he wouldn’t tell me, although it was worth a shot. “Yes,” I answered unenthusiastically, deciding not to push him since I wasn’t in the mood to see his temper again tonight. “They’ve all been nice. There’s someone new. He moved here last year and lives just down the street.”
His attention became more focused. “So you made a new friend?”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t say we’re friends. He’s friends with my friends, though.” It was the truth, even though I felt like there was more to us.
When we finished eating, my father offered to clean up again since I’d done the cooking. He rolled up his sleeves, carefully took off his heavy watch and laid it on the counter, well away from where it could get wet, and filled the sink with soap.
“It’s Thanksgiving soon.” I mentioned it casually because I hadn’t spent Thanksgiving with him since Mom died, and knew he usually worked to keep his mind off her. Thanksgiving was hard because it was her favorite holiday.
“I don’t think you’ll be invited to your aunt’s house this year,” he said with a conspiratorial grin.
Smiling in agreement, I gathered my courage. “I thought I’d make Thanksgiving for us, together, if you’re not busy.”
His hands stopped washing, hovering above the sink. I sensed him looking at me and met his gaze, bracing for disappointment.
“I’m not busy,” he said quietly with rare warmth in his eyes, and out of nowhere I was flooded with emotion, enough to feel the prick of tears.
If he noticed, he didn’t show it, turning his head and picking up the next dish. “But you don’t have to do all that work,” he said. “I’ve heard there are places that will cook the food for you and deliver it.”
Taking the offered dish from his hand, I began to dry it. “No. I’ll do it. I have Mom’s recipes, remember? I’ve never tried any of the holiday ones.”
He nodded. “I have to leave the following Friday, though. I won’t be back until Monday.”
“That’s okay. I have a friend coming to stay that weekend. Remember I texted you about it?”
“Right.” His throat worked as he swallowed. I’d told him my friend was a guy, and at first he’d said no. But once I explained, he’d changed his mind.
I was actually relieved that my father wouldn’t be here. He didn’t need any painful reminders of the past.
After dinner, my father stayed home with me for a change. He sat down in the family room and asked if I wanted to watch a movie. Flipping through the channels, he came across a James Bond movie, one with Sean Connery. When he glanced at me to see if he should stop, I nodded my agreement. We’d watched this movie together before. It was a favorite of his.
As we sat there, I thought about the fights we’d been having and knew they were my fault. My father cared about me and only wanted the best for me. He didn’t think his life was best, and that’s why he got so angry. His words ran through my head as I recalled him saying I was self-centered and irresponsible, and I supposed I understood. I’d never done anything concrete to show him otherwise. It was probably time I changed that.
Sitting in Mr. Harris’s English class became a whole new experience with what I now knew about him. I could hardly look at him without wondering if he was hitting on any other students, picturing what that might look
like and then cringing at the mental image. The right thing to do was turn him in to the principal, but I’d told Jonah I wouldn’t say anything. Truthfully, I didn’t want to say anything. Who would believe me anyway? Especially if everyone else kept their mouths shut.
Lunch period was a lot less fun with the girls silently sulking about homecoming every day. Ethan hadn’t asked Lea, and Jonah hadn’t asked Parker. Parker’s frustration with Jonah only increased when he stopped coming to lunch altogether.
“His Jeep is in the parking lot,” Parker said as we all sat around the lunch table. “Where does he go when he isn’t here? Not that I looked for his Jeep or anything,” she amended.
Ethan and Malcolm snickered. At my curious expression, Malcolm explained that Jonah’s appearance at lunch was usually hit or miss. Lately he’d been coming regularly, but that wasn’t always the case.
As for Jonah’s dealings with me, he’d been friendlier since we went to the diner together for cheeseburgers. Friendlier for Jonah, that is, which meant he no longer ignored me or pretended not to see me. I got nods and “heys” now on a regular basis, but that was the extent of it.
I didn’t want to admit that I felt slighted. I knew Jonah and I weren’t destined to become a couple or anything, but something had sparked between us at the diner. The fact that he’d dismissed it so easily hurt, especially since I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The day after we’d gone to the diner, he found me at my locker and returned my plastic container, the one that once held the muffins I gave him. He didn’t stop for more than a second, saying “thanks” with the briefest of smiles before continuing on his way. The container was perfectly clean. He’d obviously washed it.
While I was determined to not let my disappointment over Jonah show, Parker’s restraint wasn’t as strong, which I discovered when she dragged me along with her to slip an envelope inside Jonah’s locker. She wouldn’t tell me what was in the envelope, but she was confident Jonah would ask her to the homecoming dance once he saw it. That meant the note either contained promises of sexual favors or blackmail. Knowing Parker, it could go either way.
