by Laura Ward
“If you get to New York, you’ll see that ocean you’ve been dreaming about.” Jon stood and took our plates. “C’mon. I’ll fill you in on where I’m applying while I do the dishes.” I followed him into the kitchen and sat on a stool at the counter. The effort it took to keep from drooling as this hunky man filled the sink with warm water and soap was surprising.
“Okay, I haven’t told anyone this, but I’m applying to schools on the East Coast, mostly up north.” He added a pan to the water and began to scrub. “My dream school is Boston University School of Law.”
My jaw dropped. “Boston! Jon, that’s amazing. What are you doing to prepare?”
Jon scrunched his face into an adorable scowl. “Not enough. I need to study every day for the LSAT exam. I have to get my head in the game.” He moved the pan onto the drying rack and reached for another. “I feel like Dean and Landon have their futures totally figured out and I’m stuck in Indiana, hoping that someday soon I’ll man up and give myself the life I want.”
I nodded. That feeling was one I understood very well. Jon filled the dishwasher, his hands and arms so bulky and yet he handled every dish and glass with a careful touch. Just like I knew he would be if he touched me. That was exactly how I thought of him, as a gentle beast. I adored him, and I wanted to help him find his happiness. Even if that was across the country from me.
“I could help you study. I have the time.” My stomach twisted and turned, waiting for his reaction. Was I overstepping? Would he even want my help?
Jon drained the sink and wiped his hands with a towel. “You would do that? For me?” I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled. “Okay, I’ll take you up on that offer on one condition. How can I help you? What’s the process for enrollment to culinary school?”
My snort made him laugh harder. “It’s not enrollment I need help with. My grades are stellar, and I can easily work on the essay and a portfolio. I need help convincing my parents. How do I do that? How do I tell them how much I need to be away and live somewhere new for a while?”
Jon looked thoughtful. Letting him ponder the impossible, I hopped off the stool and reached for the pie, cutting two huge pieces. Jon placed his hand on my back and peeked over my shoulder. “I’ve really been craving pie, Daisy.”
“At least you can eat this pie in public, right?” As soon as the words escaped, I covered my face with my hands. What the hell was wrong with me? Years of hearing my brother’s dirty lines had infiltrated my brain. How embarrassing.
Jon choked and coughed, and I forced myself to look at him.
“Jesus, Daisy. I really meant pie. Not your—wait, how did you know?” His face flamed beet red. “Forget it.” Jon walked away, his hands on top of his head.
Pressing my hands to my flaming hot cheeks, I spoke through squished lips. “Dean. Devin. Damian. I learned all the slang. It just slipped out. I’m so awkward,” I mumbled as I pulled out the tub of ice cream from the freezer. Plopping a scoop on each plate, I walked over to Jon, handing him his plate. “Sorry,” I whispered, my tongue licking my lips while I wrung my hands in front of me.
Jon groaned. “No, Daisy. Not awkward. That’s not it.” He held up a finger. “I’ll meet you on the porch. I need a minute.”
Shit, I grossed him out. Way to go, Daisy. I set my plate down on the porch table. Spoons. As I walked back into the kitchen for our utensils, I saw Jon in the corner. He adjusted himself in his pants, and his face looked like he was in pain.
The good kind.
Shock hit me and it felt like I was slammed into a brick wall. Holding back my smile was impossible. I got to him, too. Holy shit. Jon met my gaze, and when he registered my expression, he blew out a long breath.
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
I held up the two spoons. “I forgot these.”
Jon glared at me playfully. “No more pie jokes.”
I bit my lip and struggled to maintain composure and not just throw myself at him. My pulse was racing, and my stomach was doing somersaults. I was going to revel in this feeling for quite a while. It was euphoric. “You got it.”
Jon’s eyes narrowed. He seemed to be warring with himself, struggling with a decision before nodding. My heart raced as I hurried back to the porch. After a moment, he followed, placing his plate on the table and then he started eating.
“Daisy,” he moaned through a large mouthful of dessert. “You have to go to that fancy New York school. You’ll blow them all away.”
I mouthed ‘thanks’ as I slowly ate my dessert. I didn’t trust myself to speak right now. More than likely, I’d say something ridiculous that involved private parts.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. You help me get ready for law school, and I’ll help you prove to your parents that you can handle living in New York City. Deal?” Jon took another bite and chewed, waiting for me to answer him.
My heart galloped through my chest like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby. “Deal.” My focus was on keeping the excitement out of my tone. The reality was, I had no expectations that my parents would change their minds, but at the very least this meant more time with Jon.
Jon placed his hand next to mine and curled his pinky finger around my pinky. “Okay. I’ll text you in the morning. We can pick a time and place to meet.”
I swallowed and nodded. Jon stood and kissed the top of my head. “Thanks for the welcome home, Sunshine. It was the best one I’ve ever had.”
He walked out the porch door and then the engine from his truck roared to life.
Would I ever get the chance to show my lifelong crush that I could be more than a dinner companion? Turning eighteen felt like a bend in the road. Could my life take a new direction in just two weeks?
Or fourteen days.
Or 336 hours.
Or 20, 160 minutes.
But who’s counting?
Chapter Six
Jon
SIX YEARS OLD.
The bed screeched and creaked on the other side of the wall. “Yes, harder!” I recognized my mom’s voice, but I couldn’t tell if she was hurt or not. Groans and grunts filtered through the paper-thin wall. When I registered the smack of skin, I leaped out of bed. If Tom was hurting my mom, I’d call 911.
“Mommy?’ I opened her bedroom door a crack and peeked in. Tom was facing me, kneeling on the bed. My mom was in front of him on her hands and knees. She looked like she was in pain. “Mommy, are you okay?”
“Get the fuck out of here!” Tom bellowed.
Mom opened her eyes wide. “Jon! Go to your room!”
My stomach dropped, and I felt like I might throw up. I slammed their door shut, ran back to my room and hurtled my body into the bed.
“Stupid kid. Can’t you send him somewhere?” Tom yelled.
I heard my mom answer. “Nowhere to send him. His father wants nothing to do with him.”
Tom groaned. “Well, neither do I. Keep him under control, or I’m out.”
Mom’s response was muffled, but a minute later the smacking and the moaning started back up. I pulled my pillow over my head to drown out the noise.
I was six and not wanted in my own home. That was the first of many nights that I cried myself to sleep.
~~~
I hesitated before slipping the key into the lock. Moving back home after graduating college sucked for a few reasons. First, I got used to my independence living with Dean. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted. Watched whatever I liked on television and went to sleep when I chose. Now that I was home, my mom expected me to respect her rules, just like when I was a kid.
Second, not much changed around here. Same crappy apartment, same old story. Mom worked as an office manager making decent money, but she refused to spend it on her home. Instead, she used it to get manicures, color her hair, and buy flashy clothes, expensive cars, and drinks at her favorite bars.
Peg Roberts was eternally searching for her next boyfriend. When I was young, I convinced myself that it was for me. That she wanted a
father figure in my life. That she hoped to have a family one day. But as I grew up, I realized time and again that I was not a priority in my mom’s life. When my father walked away, she never thought about him again. She wouldn’t answer my requests for his contact information and refused to utter his name.
I blew out a breath, trying like hell to calm my heart palpitations, as the organ felt as if it was slamming itself against my rib cage. I turned the knob, entering the silent apartment. Thank fuck she was out. Walking into my tiny room, I pulled the door shut behind me. My twin bed was left as it had always been, pushed against the wall, covered in a pilled blue comforter. I lay down and closed my eyes, thinking of all the lonely memories from this exact room.
Mom’s boyfriends came and went. Many weren’t introduced to me, but those that were, were never told to respect me. They could say what they wanted, push me around, hell, a few fuckers even hit me. I was told over and over that this was my mom’s home, and her guests should be treated like royalty.
Her guests mainly drank beer, smoked cigarettes, ate all the food, and hogged the television. In the beginning, I tried to make friends. I thought if they liked me, they might stay. Or even just treat me a little better.
But they never did.
In fact, during most break ups, I heard my name. I listened as they explained that having a kid around was a buzz kill and not their problem.
The days that followed a break up were the worst. The men were gone, leaving mom alone with me. She would glare at me, her hate and resentment like a living creature. Or she would stare past me, willing me to disappear.
I obeyed her wishes and went to Landon’s or Dean’s. Those guys, and Dean’s parents were the only loving people I knew. They were my family.
What a crock. Other kid’s parents cared about me more than my own.
The sound of the front door slamming jolted me up.
“This way, Matt,” Mom spoke in a loud tone, words slurred.
“It’s Mark,” her guest corrected.
“Sorry.” Mom giggled and closed the door to her bedroom. The lock snapped in place, and the voices of Mark and my mom were now muffled. I pressed my palms to my eyes. What were the chances they’d stay quiet tonight? I needed to sleep so I could get up at the crack of dawn to study.
Moments later, the headboard banged rhythmically against the wall separating our rooms and low moans filtered through.
Fuck this shit. I grabbed my phone and opened the messages app.
Jon: What are you doing?
Pressing send, I waited.
Daisy: Nothing much. You?
Jon: Feel like quizzing me on some law stuff?
Daisy: Sure thing.
Jon: Meet you at the diner in 10 minutes?
Daisy: I’ll be there.
Matt or Mark or whatever-the-fuck the dude’s name was, groaned loud and long. There was no way I was sleeping through that. Might as well do something productive with my time. Besides, any excuse to see Daisy was always a win for me.
I grabbed my faded IU baseball hat and keys off my dresser. Feeling petty, I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me and then did the same to the front door.
Mom could play with her new fuck buddy all night long for all I cared. I would be out of this apartment—hopefully, this city—in less than a year. From the time I got into IU, this was my goal. I studied my ass off in college when not playing ball, just so that I could have a future away from here. Leaving Indiana and heading to law school was the only way to put my past behind me.
Luckily, Daisy was willing to help me get there.
~~~
The bells hanging over the door jingled as it opened, and I looked up from my seat in the back corner booth toward the front of the diner. Daisy walked in, craning her neck to search for me.
As soon as she recognized me, a shy smile formed on her face. She wore a green sundress and flip-flops. With her hair down and cheeks pink, she looked simple, but fashionable at the same time.
“Hey,” she gave me a quick hug and slid in the seat across from me.
“Thanks for meeting me, Sunshine. Good thing we have a twenty-four-hour diner in town, huh?” I passed her a menu and pulled some notecards from my backpack.
Daisy nodded, placing the menu on the table without a glance. “Looks like it’ll be you, me, a couple of waitresses, and some truckers.”
I followed Daisy’s gaze around the restaurant. It was empty, save for three guys sitting at the counter, drinking coffee and eating heaping plates of food.
“Hey, y’all. Welcome. I’m Cheryl, what can I getcha?” Our waitress wore an old-school diner uniform, her dark hair pulled back in a bun.
“I’m not hungry. I’d love some chocolate milk, though.” Daisy handed her the menu and faced me.
“I’m always hungry,” I mumbled. “I’ll take a cheeseburger, fries, strawberry shake, and…” I scanned the glass dessert case on the counter. “A big hunk of that coconut cake, please.”
I handed Cheryl my menu and chuckled at her slack jaw.
Daisy hooked her thumb in my direction. “He likes to eat,” she shrugged. “You should see what damage he can do to pierogies.”
Cheryl just shook her head, shuffling into the kitchen.
As I handed Daisy the stack of notecards, she reached out, our hands brushing against each other. And I swear to Christ, I felt a spark.
I sounded like I was in a damn Lifetime movie. A spark? The fuck.
But Daisy jolted too, pulling back her hand, causing the cards to spill out over the table.
“Sorry.” Daisy’s cheeks flushed as we picked up the cards, forming a pile. “Have you always wanted to be an attorney?” she asked, shuffling the cards into a random order.
I sat back in the booth, stretching my legs out in front of me and to her side. “No. To be frank, I always knew I wanted a job where I could earn a good living being that there was never enough money growing up. But I wasn’t sure what that job would be.”
“How did you make the decision then?” Daisy asked as Cheryl placed a shake in front of me and slid Daisy’s glass of chocolate milk toward her.
“Thank you,” Daisy responded, moving the glass away from the cards.
I smiled at Cheryl and unwrapped the paper from a straw. “I had this wacky sociology professor who was an attorney. He had us get into these debates that were challenging, but so much fun. I never realized that loving to argue my point was something I was actually good at and could do for a living. I talked to him about it, and he encouraged me to keep my grades up and look into law school.”
Daisy grinned, sipping her chocolate milk that had a generous dollop of whipped cream on top. When she placed the glass back on the table, a small drop of whipped cream sat above her upper lip.
“You’ve got a little whipped cream,” I pointed to my lip and watched as the tip of her pink tongue traced along her upper lip. My cock was hard as a rock in less than ten seconds.
I leaned across the table. “Still there.” My voice sounded rough, and I held back a groan as I swiped my thumb across the smoothest skin I had ever felt. This close to her, I smelled her intoxicating sweet scent, even noticing the vein pulsing faster in her neck as her breathing picked up.
Sitting back, I sucked the cream off my thumb, catching Daisy’s eyes fixated on my mouth.
“Food’s up.” Cheryl’s voice snapped us back to reality.
I leaned back as Cheryl placed a platter with a burger and fries in front of me.
“Looks good, thanks,” I added, folding a fry into my mouth. “Help yourself, Sunshine.” I motioned to my plate.
“And here’s your cake and two waters. Y’all need anything else?” Cheryl asked.
Daisy shook her head, and I swallowed my food before responding. “I think we’re good.”
I took a big bite of my burger, using the time I chewed to calm myself the hell down. “Okay, ask me some of these analytical questions. The answers are on the bottom, so you can tell me
immediately if it’s right or wrong.”
Her lips puckered, she took a long sip of the water in front of her. “Here’s a tough one. “Passenger A rides bus one to work on Mondays and Fridays—”
I lost focus, unable to hear her words. I had to get myself under control. I was here to study with my friend. Nothing more.
Fingertips drummed on the tabletop as she waited for my answer.
I rubbed the back of my neck, tight with tension. “Sorry. I spaced. Can you repeat that?”
Daisy smiled. “I told you it was a tough one. But you’ve got this, Jon. I know you do.” Her hand rubbed along my forearm in support.
And I felt another damn spark. My heart beat furiously in my chest, but I forced myself to focus, listening and working through my answer.
Because I was with my Sunshine and that’s all that mattered.
~~~
After our study session, I used my sugar rush from the heaping piece of coconut cake to carry me through a practice section of the exam. The house was silent when I finally got home, so I cranked it out before passing out in bed at three in the morning.
~~~
There was only one benefit that I could find to my mom’s crappy apartment complex. It had a pool. A pool which, like today, was almost always empty. I removed the cap from my bottle of water and gulped down the cold drink. Daisy was meeting me to swim, study, and beat the August heat.
Stretching my arms over my head, I rolled my neck in a circle. I was beat. Working forty hours a week at the law firm, and then studying for three hours a night when I got home, was exhausting. But in an odd way, I thrived off the exertion. For the first time in my life, I had a plan. A purpose.
I cracked open the LSAT manual and re-read the chapter I worked on last night.
