by Xavier Neal
“How do you two know each other? The way he talks, it’s like you’re almost—”
Popping up, he leans over the seat. “Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?”
My face turns to Justin. “Well, how do they know each other outside this whole Dark Watcher, Neverland rival thing? I mean, seriously! The animosity and the way he spoke, it was like he knew him from before that or in a different way.”
“Each Lost Boy can only tell his own story, remember?” The sigh from Justin disappoints me as I slam my back against the seat.
“Of all the groups of friends for me to get tangled up with, I pick the one who can get me killed but won’t even tell me why,” I mutter, moving his hand off of my leg as we pull up outside the apartment. Aiden and Eiden hop out of the back quickly.
“Thanks again, guys.”
The two of them give simple waves, while Peter hops out and leans against the door. “So, I assume you two are headed to meet the parents?”
“Oh my god, we’re going to be late,” I fiddle around for my purse, unsure of the time.
“Probably.” Peter grins cockily. “It’s a good thing though. Too early and it raises questions; too late and it puts up barriers. But just the right amount of squirm followed by the right entrance—that, my friend, sells it.”
“You would know,” Justin mutters loudly.
A light chortle leaves Peter. “Not as much as you would. I took that out of your playbook.” After a long, cold stare, Peter stands up, slides something small into Justin’s hand, pats the side of the car, and sneers in a manner that makes me rather uncomfortable. “Enjoy the moment while it lasts.”
While watching him walk away, I ask, “Does he even have the capability to say something sincerely nice?”
Justin watches as Peter gives him another wink and wave before entering the building. Slightly annoyed, he tosses the car out of park and into gear. “No.”
The car jerks me forward as Justin pulls into traffic. Thankful the trip isn’t far, but anxious not to make my parents worry, I shoot my mother a quick text with a lie about having to stay late at school, so it’ll be a few minutes. Once that’s all settled, I look up to see Justin staring at me longingly.
“What?”
“Just glad you’re safe, that’s all.” He drops one hand off the steering wheel. “I was worried for a second.”
“Mr. Smooth, worried?” I giggle sarcastically. “Is that even possible?”
“Yes.” He shakes his head, offended. Another mocking look escapes me before he licks his lips and sighs. “If it’s something I really…really…” The word that follows seems to get lost between the text message rings. Slightly disappointed he didn’t get to finish his sentence, I do my best to place a smile back on my face, seeing as how we’re about to meet my parents after a quick wardrobe change at my apartment. Once we’re parked, Justin drives us a few blocks down the road and parks in a parking garage, opting not to use a valet.
As he tosses the car in park, I admire how gorgeous he looks in his black dress pants, blue shirt, and fedora tilted confidently to the side. With a smile, I sigh. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a color.”
“Gray.”
“Gray isn’t a color. It’s a shade.”
“It’s a color.”
“It’s a shade.”
“It’s a—”
“You know what?” I giggle, deciding to let the argument go. “It doesn’t matter. You look handsome in everything you wear, but I think you look especially handsome tonight.”
“Why wouldn’t I? I get to meet the parents of the girl of my dreams.” He extends his hand for me to take after opening my car door.
“That’s a line I bet you’ve said once or twice in your life.” The words are meant to be playful, but I can tell that they sting. Justin merely smiles and nods. Doing my best to quickly recover, I snuggle in closer. “But never meant like you do now.”
Justin proudly nods as we stroll along the sidewalk to the restaurant. “When you’re right, you’re right.”
Upon entering, we are quickly escorted to the table where my parents are waiting with half full glasses of wine and lemon ice water heavily frosted with condensation.
Immediately, my parents rise with nervous looks on their faces. With a soft smile, I lean over and kiss them each on the cheek. “Sorry, we’re late.”
“It’s okay,” my mother insists, her smile extending sweetly. “Is this him?”
“Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet Justin. Justin, these are my parents Tim and Faith.” I glance at him as he extends his hand to shake theirs.
Once we’re all settled down in our seats with menus in our laps, my mother asks, “So, where exactly did you two meet again?”
“Art room.” I run my hand along the back of my menu. “It was a little unexpected. In fact, I think our entire relationship has been, in a word, unexpected.”
Justin grins at me before glancing at my parents: my mother, who is smiling back, and my father, who doesn’t seem to be interested. The conversation continues on a casual note, my mother full of questions and my father closed off in a way I’m unfamiliar with. After our orders have been taken, I lean forward and ask, “Dad, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he insists, taking another sip of his almost empty wine.
“Everything go all right today?” My voice rises in concern.
“Yes.” His shortness in response forces me back in my chair, slightly defeated.
Feeling my pain, Justin decides to speak up. “So, Tim—”
“Mr. Darling, please.” The correction even raises my mother’s eyebrows.
“Excuse me, Mr. Darling, I just wanted to say that I think you’re quite the artist,” he says in a complimentary way, something my father usually loves.
Straight faced, he says, “Why, thank you.”
“I’ve seen many of your pieces in other states and countries. Your name is pretty well known.” My mother sweetly pats the back of my father’s hand.
“Have you now?” my father asks as he picks up his wine glass once more.
“I have. I’ve traveled a lot.” Justin’s eyes glance in my direction, hopeful.
“Have you?” my mother asks curiously. “You’re a military brat?”
“Close. My parents work for the government.” The lie would explain why he lives in an apartment by himself. “So, we travel often.”
“What do they do?” my mother asks, picking up her fork for her side salad, which was just delivered.
With a slight shrug, Justin answers, “I honestly don’t know. They’ve got one of those don’t ask can’t tell kinds of jobs.”
“Not surprising,” my dad mutters, picking up his glass and looking off into the distance.
“I have to use the ladies’ room. Peyton, will you join me?” My mother grabs her clutch.
“Sure.” I slide my chair back, place a gentle hand on Justin’s shoulder, and give it a good luck squeeze.
Once the two of us are in the bathroom, my mother enters a stall and says loudly, “I don’t know what’s eating your father. The entire ride here, he was raving about how excited he was that his baby girl was all grown up.”
“Yeah, I don’t know.” I glance over my shoulder at my own reflection. “I really want Dad to like him though.” After a flush, my mother exits and joins me at the sink. “I’m sure he will, dear. He’s probably just as nervous to meet Justin as Justin is him.”
“Was it safe to leave them alone?”
With a giggle, she shakes her head. “Probably not.” The two of us return to the table where Justin is leaning backward with a soft smile on his face and his arm on the back of my chair. Knowing the smug look a little too well, I lean over and whisper in his ear, “What happened?”
Quickly, he leans over and whispers, “We’re going to find out the truth about how your father feels about me and why.”
Nonplussed, I stare at him before glancing at m
y father, who is giving his glass a strange look as he smacks his lips like there’s an odd taste in his mouth. Uncomfortable, he clears his throat and tilts his head at Justin. “So, where’d you get that?” He points to the tattoo that’s peeking from underneath Justin’s sleeve.
“Ireland.” Justin grabs his water glass.
“But, you’re only seventeen.” My father sighs as another glass of wine is poured for him.
“Different country, different rules,” my mother says defensively.
“Hmm.” He nods slowly. “I don’t really like that. You seem to me like you’re all about breaking rules.”
“Tim!” my mother shrieks. “Dad!” I squeak back in unison.
“How did you meet again? In the art room? What were you doing? Skipping class?”
“Wow,” my voice grumbles, grabbing my glass of water.
With a smile, Justin leans forward on his elbows. “Are you implying something, sir?”
“I’m implying that I know the kind of guy you are. You’re manipulative. Dastardly. Everyone is fooled by the bull you’re feeding them.”
“Tim!” my mother snips loudly again.
Ignoring her, he continues, like he can’t stop the truth from falling out of his mouth. “But I know the kind of guy you are. I know the kinds of things you’re looking for. And I know Peyton will never give them to you.”
“Enough!” my mother stomps her heel under the table. “Tim, that is enough!”
Suddenly, the cold look on my father’s face disappears as if he’s coming out of a trance, and he looks to my mother. “Why are you yelling at me?”
“Why are you attacking Justin?” she snaps, throwing her napkin on the table.
“I…I…I don’t know.” His head tilts back slowly. Caught off guard, he adjusts his tie and sighs. “I apologize.”
“It’s all right, sir.” Justin nods as his plate of food lands in front of him.
Our meal becomes very quiet as the tension rises. My mother does her best to ask questions about where he grew up and what life on the go is like, but the entire time, my father is taking small bites, staring at Justin, who doesn’t seemed fazed by him.
As soon as everyone is finished, I place my napkin on the table and ask my mother, “Do you mind if Justin drives me home?”
“Not at all,” she answers.
“I do,” my father pipes up. “I thought you would like to ride with us, sweetie.”
“No, thank you.” I stand and grab my purse. “Mom, I’ll see you at home.”
My father interjects, “But…”
“Drive safe,” my mother cuts him off. “It was nice to meet you, Justin. I hope we see you again soon.”
“Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.” He waves before taking my hand and strolling out of the restaurant.
The two of us climb back up the steep hill in silence to where he’s parked. Before I realize it, we’re back in the car with the keys in the ignition but not moving.
Staring at the wheel, I notice a disappointed look on his face, a look I can honestly say I’m not too familiar with.
“I’m sorry about my father tonight. I’ve never seen him act like that. Those things he said…I mean, I just…well, I never thought he’d say how he really felt out loud. I mean, I’ve never heard him get angry or defensive or…”
“I know why he did it,” Justin says slowly, his eyes lifting to meet mine.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I slipped him a little bit of Narcturnal in his wine.” The answer takes me bysurprise.
“What is that?”
“It’s a truth serum. Narcturnal is a small, purple plant that grows in Neverland. You know how people always joke that alcohol is a truth serum. Well, once upon a time, it was true because alcohol contained Narcturnal. Of course, now it doesn’t, but Narcturnal can still be slipped into any drink and possess the same effect. I wanted to know what was bothering your father, and now I do.”
“Why would you do that?” I toss my hands in the air. “Normal boyfriends just deal with the heat and discomfort of meeting their girlfriends’ parents. Normal boyfriends just man up the best they can and suffer. Normal boyfriends…”
“I’m not normal,” Justin raises his voice at me. Forcing me to back down, he shrugs his shoulders. “I’m never going to be normal, Peyton. For the sake of what’s going on, it’s important I know all the obstacles standing between us and Sous Clef. So yeah, I slipped it in his drink.”
With a deep swallow, I nod slowly. “Between us and the painting. Because that’s what this is all about, right? Getting that painting?”
Justin presses his lips together and glances back out toward the road. “Yes.”
Holding back the tears that have crept into my throat, I lean back in his leather seat and nod. “Can you please take me home?”
The ride home is even worse than dinner as far as silence goes. I’ve got tears creeping through my mascara and a knot the size of a grapefruit in my throat. It never seems to fail that, as soon as we get close, we’re ripped apart again. With everything that keeps happening, I’m feeling more and more like I’m dating two people trapped in one body.
Chapter Eight
Moving my pencil back and forth across the sketchbook in my lap, I shake my head slowly at my mother and father, who are yelling outside my bedroom door.
“Tell her she can date whoever she wants!”
“But…”
“Do you realize how you embarrassed her?”
“I…”
“Do you realize that this was the first guy she not only decided to call her boyfriend but trusted enough to bring him to meet us?”
“Well…”
“That’s a big deal, Tim! You know how she feels with all the moving we do.”
“Faith—”
“No! You listen to me. For the first time in years, she’s being social, she has friends, and she’s happier than we’ve ever seen her. How could you try to take that away from her?”
“But—”
“No buts! March in there and apologize to your daughter before you don’t have one,” her voice squeaks.
Moments later, there’s a soft knock on my door. A heavy sigh leaves me. “Come in.”
Sheepishly, my father steps in and shuts the door behind him. “Can we speak for a moment?”
“Of course.” I grab the orange oil pencil.
“Look, I know dinner didn’t go well last night.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Clearing his throat, he continues, “But I want you to know that you’re my daughter, and I love you.” My attention pulls itself up as the next words look painful for him to say. “Peyton, you can date whoever you want. You’re a beautiful, mature young woman and reserve the right to make your own choices. I’m just worried about what type of guy he is. Just promise me you’ll be very careful, and if you ever have questions or need advice, you’ll ask me.”
“Promise.” I nod before returning to my drawing. “I love you, Peyton.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
With a look of relief on his face, he takes a deep breath and smiles. “Your mother and I are going to dinner with the mayor and his wife. Would you care to join us? He’s got a cute son.”
“I think I’ll pass.” My crooked smile warms his heart as he prepares to make an exit.
“You sure? He’s got great teeth.”
“Dad.”
“And, he’s tall.”
“Dad.”
“And he’s…”
“Good night,” I cut him off, giggling.
He exits, shutting the door tightly behind him, allowing me to return to the picture I’ve been working on basically the entire day. Between avoiding text messages, phone calls, and my parents until now, I haven’t felt like doing much else.
Hearing another knock, I quickly call, “Come in.”
I glance over at my door, perplexed as to why no one’s walking in. Nervous, I lean forward, c
hecking out the door before hearing someone clear his throat from what sounds like beside me.
Slowly, I turn my head to see Peter taking a seat beside me, painting a cocky grin on his face. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I whisper. “What the…How the…”
“Was out flying around the neighborhood. Thought I would swing by and see what’s up.”
I peek around him to notice my balcony doors wide open. “Do my parents know you’re here?”
“Nah. I landed right after your father closed the door. I’m good at this, sweetheart. It’s not my first time.” The words slip out of his mouth in a fashion that makes me a tad uncomfortable.
Clearing my throat, I scoot to the very edge of the bed, slip my sketchbook closed, and ask, “So, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to see how your parents liked Justin.” He joins me on the edge of the bed, leaving one hand behind as if it might sneak itself around me.
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Haven’t been that direction. Everything going according to plan?”
“Well, my mother loves him.” I nod. “And my father thinks he’s a creep. So, I guess I have the typical teenage problem.”
The two of us giggle lightly together, and Peter folds his hands in his lap. “Don’t worry too much, Peyton. Fathers are always protective of their children, especially their daughters. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from your father. He is, after all, a stand up guy.”
“I like to think so.” My voice lowers to a softer pitch. Peter’s eyes linger on mine before he sighs. “I know that, if I were Justin, I would do everything I could to make your father like me, not for his sake but for yours.”
Touched, my shoulders slouch, and my head tilts. “After all, that’s what a normal boyfriend would do.”
The word rings in my ear, and I feel a certain twinge inside of me. “Well, good thing he’s not a normal boyfriend.”
With a crooked grin, Peter stands up, adjusts his green polo, and sighs. “Hate to have to leave so soon, but I’ve got a few errands to run. See you around.”
Doing my best to hide my resurfaced anger, I nod. “See you around, Peter.”
