Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  Each step I took felt like my last. I was sure Dad had a massive lecture waiting behind his bedroom door on why we don’t sneak out of school with strange boys, but as I pushed his door open and saw him sitting on the end of his bed, my heart felt heavy. “Dad?”

  He turned his face from the cradle of his hands. “Come in. Close the door.”

  “Where’s Vicki and Sam?”

  “Family pizza night.”

  “Oh yeah. Sorry.” I stopped. “I forgot about pizza night.”

  “It’s fine, honey.” He patted the bed.

  I sat down next to him. “Why didn’t you go with them, Dad?”

  He gave me a look that suggested the obvious. “My daughter ran away from school today—crying. I wanted to be here when you got home.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” I twiddled my thumbs.

  “Ara-Rose, you don’t need to be sorry.” He rubbed my back. “I’m just glad someone was there for you.”

  “Yeah.” I tried not to, but couldn’t help smiling. “David kind of forced a deep-and-meaningful confession out of me.”

  Dad laughed. “So you told him about why you came to live here?”

  No, you did, I thought, wishing he’d just stop playing dumb. “Yeah. We’re… he’s helping me through it.”

  Dad sighed massively and wrapped his arm all the way around my shoulders, pulling me into him for a bear-tight hug. “I’m so relieved to hear that. And you’re all going out to Betty’s tonight, right?”

  I nodded. “If that’s… is it still okay?”

  “Of course it is, honey.” He pressed a big sloppy Dad kiss on my brow. “More than okay. I’ll even give you a later curfew. How’s that sound?”

  “Really? What time?”

  “Eleven sound fair?”

  “Yes!” I hugged him, wrapping my skinny arms all the way around his neck. “Thank you, Dad.”

  “Just happy to make you happy.” He rubbed my back, and as I pulled away, sitting beside him again, my butt landed on the remote, starting up the film he’d been watching. I went to apologize, but my eyes strayed from his smile to the TV set, stopping on the tiny dancer gracefully billowing across the screen.

  “I’m sorry, honey.” Dad grabbed the remote and went to turn it off.

  “Wait.” I placed my hand over his. “I want to see.”

  He lowered the remote as I rose to my feet, walking slowly over to watch the only piece of my mother I had left.

  “Did she ever tell you about this concert?” Dad asked.

  I shook my head.

  “It was the year before she quit ballet.”

  “Before she had me?”

  “Yes.” He stood beside me. “It was Swan Lake.”

  “I know.” I smiled, watching my mother dance. “I did this one last year for our ballet recital.”

  His arm wrapped my shoulders. “I remember. You were such a beautiful dancer.”

  “I think I inherited that from Mom.”

  “Yes.” He looked at the screen. “Among other things.”

  I looked up at his watering eyes. “You miss her, too?”

  He pressed stop on the remote, and the screen went black. “I always will.”

  A moment of silence passed between us. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “What for?”

  “I… I’m just sorry—about everything.”

  He looked down at me, his eyes narrowing tightly on the inner corners. “You know, honey, if there’s something you need to tell me—”

  “I know.” I hugged him softly, squeezing once before backing up. “I do know that.”

  “Okay.” His concerned smile dropped for the warm one I always loved. “Well, you go on now and have a good night. Promise?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I promise.”

  As I closed his door, the gentle hum of piano followed me out into the hall again.

  “Are you okay, Ara?” David called from downstairs.

  “Uh, yeah,” I called back. “Just gotta throw on some jeans. Won’t be long.”

  I slipped into the cleanest-smelling pair of jeans I could find on my floor and grabbed the blue zip-up sweater from my dresser, then scrunched my hair up a few times and grabbed my purse as I tripped out the door.

  “You won’t be needing this.” David took my purse, appearing out of nowhere, and tossed it back into my room. I heard it hit my bed with a dull, leather-sounding thud.

  “Why won’t I need that? Don’t they sell food there? I’m starving.”

  He shook his head, unamused. “You know I won’t let you pay for your own food.”

  “Why? Is my money dirty?” I followed him down the stairs, my careless feet thumping loudly behind his barely audible footfalls.

  “No.” He opened the front door. “But when a guy takes a girl on a date, he should pay. It’s the way I was raised.”

  “Well…” I sauntered past him. He closed the front door behind us. “It’s weird.”

  “Don’t pretend you object to me treating you as a lady.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  Despite that, he still opened the car door for me. “Why do girls always do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Spill that equal rights nonsense—argue that we’re taking their independence by opening a door for them. That’s just not the case.”

  “Well, what is the case?” I sat down on the front seat, leaving my feet on the driveway.

  “Simply that we’re demonstrating good breeding; showing the girl we’re worthy and capable of taking care of her. That we’re polite, considerate, nurturing.”

  I folded my arms. “Women don’t need nurturing—or to be taken care of. We can fend for ourselves. We’re equal to men, you know?”

  “Ara.” He stared down at me, the skin under his eyes tight. “I’m not disregarding equality by being a gentleman; I’m exercising chivalry.”

  “That’s out-dated though, isn’t it?” I challenged with a grin.

  “Never,” he said in a high tone. “Why should courtesy be out-dated—or offensive? Is it not polite to offer a pregnant woman your seat on a bus?”

  “Yes, but that’s different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s pregnant.”

  “Then, if you want equal rights for all, it would only be polite for me to also offer this to a woman who is not pregnant. Or to the man playing Angry Birds on his iPhone.”

  “This is getting off topic.” I swung my legs into the car. “The point is—” Argh! What was my point? …Oh yeah. “The point is that I should be able to pay for my own food if I want.”

  “And you can, but not when you come out with me. I have rights, too.”

  “So… I’m taking away your rights by buying my own food?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “What a load of rubbish.”

  “Think of it like this: some girls believe exerting independence by denying a man his own rights to be respectful demonstrates strength. But women are incredibly strong. We already know this. So, unfortunately, by labeling chivalry to be insolent, she is merely robbing the next generation of civility—ensuring the extinction of well-mannered men. It’s my right and duty to preserve the tradition.”

  “Not all women consider it good manners when a guy forces her to accept a free lunch.” I tightened the fold of my arms.

  “Oh, really?” He looked down at me with one brow arched. “Yet, if I neglected to wrap my jacket over your shoulders on a cold evening, I’d be regarded as a jerk.”

  “I—”

  “I’m a gentleman, Ara. Get used to it.” He closed the door on my retort and appeared suddenly in the seat next to me.

  “How do you move so quick?”

  “I don’t. You just phase out all the time.”

  * * *

  David pulled into an angled space outside the buzzing corner cafe and shut the engine off. “Welcome to the best burger joint in town.”

  Beyond the flashing pink-and-blue signs on the windows,
the generation gap seemed to be left behind. Kids sat on chrome-rimmed stools by the milk-bar, singing Elvis songs loud enough to hear from here, while others gathered around the white billiard tables on the lower level. Even the staff, in their flaring poodle skirts and sneakers, seemed to have jumped right off the Grease film set.

  “David?”

  “Yeah.”

  As I looked back at him, he smiled softly, comfortably, as if he’d not taken his eyes off me the whole time. “I’m sorry about the whole independence thing. I think it’s really sweet that you’re a gentleman.”

  He nodded, taking my hand delicately. “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I can see right through your girl power act, young lady.”

  “Oh, really.” I leaned back in the chair, my eyes employing a defiant glare. “And what exactly do you see, Mr. Know-It-All?”

  “I see…” He leaned forward, luring me into his private little world. “I see a young girl who just wants to be loved by a man worthy of her.”

  Several retorts came to mind, none of them sassy and creative, like I wished. I went with “Aw, how romantic,” squeezing my fists tightly to stop from launching myself into his arms.

  “Come. Let’s get some food.” He turned slowly and hopped out, closing the door quietly behind him, then appeared by my door way too fast, offering his hand.

  As my fingers touched his, blood rushed up with a quick skip of my heart, and I drew my hand back. “Wow, you are really cold tonight.”

  “Yeah. I know.” He looked at his hand, rubbing his thumb over his fingertips. “They get cold when I drive.”

  “Mine get cold when I do homework.”

  “Maybe you should avoid it then.”

  “Maybe I like cold hands,” I said, walking beside him, and when he smiled down at me, I caught sight of his fangs.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

  “I was just thinking.” I braved rejection and reached for his hand again; he let me take it. “With those pointy canines and cold hands, you could pass as a vampire.”

  His sudden boisterous laughter made me smile. “Better watch out then. We are on a dinner date after all.”

  “Hm,” I said. “Guess I better order garlic then, or maybe a steak.”

  “A steak?”

  “Yeah, you know…?” I prompted, stabbing my heart with an invisible stick. “As in… a stake?”

  David shook his head, but a warm smile sparkled in his eyes as he opened the cafe door and the nineteen-fifties-time-warp enveloped us.

  “I would guess, by the look on your face, that you like it,” he said.

  “It’s great. Crowded, though.”

  “When you taste the food, you’ll see why.”

  My stomach groaned.

  “Ah, I see the very mention of sustenance has awakened the ogre.” David grinned at my belly.

  “Stop laughing,” I said, covering it.

  “Make me.”

  “I can, you know.” I looked up at him. “I’m tougher than I look.”

  He pinched my bony wrist between two fingers and held it up. “Yeah. So much muscle.”

  “Shut up.” I laughed, punching him softly in the arm.

  “Ouch.” He rubbed it. “That really hurt.”

  “Really?”

  “No.” He smirked, offering a seat nearby. “I was just trying to be nice.”

  I slid into the booth, shaking my head, and David shuffled in beside me, coming closer each time I moved over to give him more space. It wasn’t until my shoulder and arm pressed against the cold glass window that I realized it wasn’t more space he wanted, but less between us.

  I looked into my lap, smiling to myself. “Have you seen the others yet?”

  “By the pool table.” He tilted his head in their direction without taking his eyes off me.

  “Hm. Didn’t even see them when we walked in.” I leaned around him and watched Emily and Alana giggling flirtatiously at Ryan. “Are they checking out his butt every time he takes a shot?”

  David nodded, smiling.

  “Do you think we should go say hello?” I asked.

  “No, they’ll come over when they finish. For now”—he shrugged—“I kinda like this.”

  So did I. In fact, I kinda hoped they didn’t notice us at all.

  The corner of David’s mouth twitched, breaking his face into a grin.

  “What?” I asked. “Why are you smiling?”

  “No reason.”

  I turned my face away, feeling heat rise up in my cheeks. Sometimes it felt like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

  “Why do you do that?” He cupped my chin, turning my head.

  “Do what?”

  “You turn your face away when you blush,” he said delicately. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  “It’s sweet.”

  “Well,” I said, trying to break the awkwardness of his stare. “You know, you have an irritating quirk yourself.”

  “I do?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “That!” I pointed to that smile—the one evident only by the two dimples above the corners of his lips; the one he did as his gaze drifted downward. “It’s like you… I don’t know, it’s like you have a secret or a joke, and it’s a good one, but you don’t want to share it.”

  “Oh.” He nodded, hiding the smallest hint of humor. “I guess I do maybe do that—a lot.”

  I nodded.

  “You’re very observant, Ara-Rose.”

  “So, what is it? Why do you do it?”

  “I just spend too much time in my own head, that’s all.”

  “Like I do?”

  “Yeah, except… it gets pretty boring up here, so I find ways to amuse myself.” The bright smile dropped instantly, and his lost words hung in the air as I folded my arms and stole his smile for my own.

  “So, am I boring you?” I joked.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Hey-you-two.” Emily bounced up beside the table.

  “Hey, Em.”

  “Check it out.” She inclined her head to one side in a quick movement, hinting with her eyes.

  “Oh my God, you guys,” I beamed, seeing the joined hands of Alana and Ryan. “When did this happen?”

  “Well.” Ryan swept his fingers through his hair. “I kinda got the hard word put on me.”

  Alana raised her eyebrows in Emily’s direction to indicate that she had something do with it.

  Emily shrugged. “You weren’t there to talk with me about David this afternoon, so I had to find something to do.”

  David looked sideways at me, his radiant smile gleaming. “You talk about me?”

  I blinked a few extra times, feeling pretty sheepish, but chose to ignore him. “Well, that’s really cool, guys. I’m glad you finally got together.”

  “Yeah.” Ryan shrugged. “I’m pretty happy about it.”

  They slid into the seat opposite us, while Emily slid in beside David, leaving a less than reasonable gap. I all but got my ruler out and measured it to the last millimeter.

  “What can I get you guys?” a waitress said, popping up out of nowhere, pulling a pen from her ponytail.

  David handed me the menu. I placed it back down, shaking my head. As the others rattled off their orders, he leaned in and whispered against my ear, “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you reading the menu?”

  “I don’t need it,” I said enthusiastically, logging the cool, minty scent of his breath in my memory. I looked at the waitress then as a tray of burgers and fries passed her head. “I’ll have that, thanks.”

  She turned around and then smiled when she looked back. “Okay, Betty Burger, fries and shake?” She wrote it down and looked at David.

  “Same.” He smiled.

  “Okay, that’ll just be a moment.” She skated off.

  David stared at me. “That’s a lot o
f food. Can you really eat all that?”

  Evidence that he didn’t know me very well at all. “I think we should have a challenge.”

  “I’m always up for that,” Ryan said.

  “Cool. It’s a who can eat the most challenge.” I said.

  Emily shook her head. “Ew, no, sorry. Count me out. I’m on a diet.”

  My eyes bulged. “A diet?”

  “Yeah. I mean, no, not like that.” She waved her hands around. “It’s just a healthy eating thing—to stay fit. I’m on top of the pyramid. If I weigh too much, someone could get hurt.”

  “Okay then. Alana?”

  “Sorry. Count me out, too. I have a really small stomach. I’ll probably lose on the first fry.”

  Ryan grinned wildly. “Count me in, sister.” He shook my hand, then we both looked at David.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I can eat a lot. I could probably eat you and not think twice about it.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, tilting his shoulders closer to me. “Do you think you’re up for that kind of a challenge, little girl?”

  “Bring it on,” I said, and as I went to shake his hand, a jolt of static shot through us, making me yelp. “Ow. I hate that.”

  “Sorry.” David touched the sleeve of his thin black sweater. “I’m wearing wool.”

  “Wool?” I exclaimed with a certain amount of accusation in my tone. “How do you even know that’s wool? You’re a guy!”

  He leaned on his hand, resting his knuckles just beside his smile. “A guy who knows what wool feels like.”

  “Sometimes I think you know too much for your age, David Knight.”

  “Well, I come from a wealthy family.” He distracted himself, swapping the salt label with the sugar one. “Grooming and Deportment were lessons of great significance during my upbringing.”

  “Grooming and what?” Emily asked.

  “Etiquette classes,” I informed, leaning around David to look at her. “I had to do them in school when I was ten.”

  “Oh.” She sat back, staring ahead thoughtfully. “Hm, that makes sense on so many levels.”

  Yup, I thought so too. Being raised like an English Lord explained why he was so charming and charismatic and… otherworldly.

  When we finished dinner, David and Ryan carried a heated discussion about the best guitar brands, while I lost myself to thought, sliding my finger over the condensation on my milkshake glass. The waitress took our plates and left the bill, which David snaffled quickly, opening his leather wallet. “I’ll get this one, guys.”