“Daddy’s friend?”
She stopped then and looked up to see Erin watching her, her face the epitome of innocence, waiting for a response.
“Your daddy and I were friends a long time ago.”
Her face turned thoughtful. “You mean like when you were babies?”
Lauren couldn’t help but smile as she put the red crayon back and took the orange one Erin had laid out for her. “No, when we were teenagers.”
“What’s a teenager?” Erin asked, her eyes on her paper as she began working on her stick figure again.
“It’s a big boy or girl. Bigger than a baby, but not as big as a daddy or a mommy.” No sooner than the word left her mouth, Lauren felt like kicking herself. She glanced up quickly, waiting to see what kind of effect the mention of a mommy would have on Erin.
She didn’t miss a beat.
“Daddy said you’re nice.”
Lauren’s shoulders dropped. “He did?”
Erin nodded as she colored blue hair on top of her stick figure’s head. “He said that if I got sad or scared, I should talk to you, because you’re nice.”
Lauren felt a lump rise in her throat, and she swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “You can always come talk to me, Erin. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Okay,” she said casually.
“Can I use your crayon?” she heard a little voice ask, and Lauren looked up to see one of the boys from class standing next to Erin.
Erin nodded silently, handing it over.
“I’m Connor. Want to color with me?”
Erin glanced over at Lauren, who nodded reassuringly, and she turned back to the boy. “Okay,” she said, and the boy pulled up a seat next to her.
Lauren smiled as she removed herself from the situation, putting a reassuring hand on Erin’s shoulder before she crossed to the other side of the room to check on the other students.
At three thirty, Lauren said good-bye to Janet and Delia and the children that remained before she gathered her things and headed out to the vestibule.
Just as she placed her bag down on the counter to find her keys, the front door swung open, and Lauren looked up to see Michael walking through the doors.
She dropped her eyes again, sifting through her purse with more urgency.
“Hi.”
She swallowed and gained her composure before she looked back up with a tiny smile. “Hi, how are you?”
Stupid contrived formalities. They felt so foreign on her tongue. Especially with Michael. But she didn’t know how else to handle him.
“I’m okay,” he answered, running a hand through his dark hair. “How’d she do today?”
And then it came to her. She’d handle him like any other parent. Friendly, but professional. All interactions based solely on the child in question.
“Good,” Lauren said, and this time her smile was genuine as she thought of Erin’s progress today. “She’s coming out of her shell.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and exhaled in what seemed like relief. “That’s good,” he said. “She’s smart, but she’s so shy, and I don’t want people to think she’s not friendly, or that she’s not listening, you know?”
“Oh, we know she’s listening, even if she’s not quick to talk about what she’s learning.”
This was good, Lauren thought. Natural. Safe.
But then Michael smiled, and she felt her poise waver. “God, that’s so good to hear,” he said. “We just moved to the area, so I’m hoping she’ll be able to open up and make some friends here.” He took his hands out of his pockets and leaned on the counter.
His proximity caught her off guard, and her stomach flipped as she instantly straightened, dropping her eyes to where his hands rested in front of her. Immediately he curled them in before gently sliding them out of view.
“Sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I just came from work.”
It took Lauren a second to realize he thought she was taken aback because his hands were dirty.
“No, no, I wasn’t—” but she stopped short, because what could she say? I wasn’t looking at your hands because they were dirty; I was just trying to look anywhere but your face?
“I work as a tin knocker,” he said, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “I can’t ever get them clean.”
She had to get out of there.
“Well, Erin was great today,” she said, tossing her bag over her shoulder and taking a step toward the door. “I’ll keep you updated on her progress.”
“Oh…okay,” he said, stepping to the side to let her pass. “Um, okay, great. Thanks.”
“Yep. Have a good afternoon,” she said with a smile, rushing past him and out the door.
By the time she got to her car, her hands were shaking so badly that she struggled with starting it.
Her plan was to keep it about Erin, to speak to him like he was just another parent, but as he continued talking to her, she could feel the questions forming on the tip of her tongue. What’s a tin knocker? Do you like your job? Where have you been for the past eight years?
None of that was about Erin.
And so she ran. She would not allow herself to speak to him on a personal level.
But as she pulled out of the parking lot, she couldn’t help but ask herself if she was overreacting. Shouldn’t it be okay to want to hear about someone who had once been important to her? After all, they had been inseparable throughout most of high school, albeit the most unlikely pair: the school badass and Little Miss Straight-laced, best friends. It was true things hadn’t ended well, but that was years ago. It would be harmless to catch up with an old friend.
No. She had to remember who she was talking about.
Nothing about Michael Delaney was harmless. She had learned that the hard way.
“You get selective amnesia when it comes to Del,” she could hear Jenn say.
But not this time.
It had been different in high school. She was a kid. But she was a grown woman now, and she knew better. Lauren realized it was quite possible that he had changed too, just as she had, that he would no longer make the same mistakes he did back then.
But she knew she would never risk herself long enough to find out.
As Michael Delaney tucked his daughter into bed, his mind was a million miles away.
“Good night, baby girl,” he said against her forehead before he kissed her there, and she reached up and hugged him around the neck the way she always did.
“Daddy?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sad tonight?”
She was so observant. He should have expected her to pick up on his behavior.
He pulled back and sat on the side of her bed. “No, I’m not sad,” he said, brushing her hair out of her eyes and pulling her blanket up a bit higher. “I’m just tired.”
“Me too,” she said.
“Well then, we both better get some sleep,” he said, standing from her bed.
“Okay. Connor asked me to color with him today and I said yes.”
Michael stopped on the way out of her room, trying to remember that they were only three.
He turned in her doorway. “You know,” he said, “if Connor wants to take you out on a date, he has to ask me first.”
“Daddy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We’re too little.”
Michael grinned. “Sorry,” he said, blowing her a kiss. “Night.”
“Good night,” she murmured, rolling over and pulling her stuffed cat against her.
He stood in her doorway for a minute, watching the rise and fall of her chest under the covers before he gently closed her door.
And then he went and sat at the kitchen table, clasping his hands in front of his mouth as he stared blankly off into space.
Lauren. He couldn’t stop thinking of her.
She had always been pretty, but now there was a maturity, a confidence, a womanly quality to her that made her that much more beautiful.
She still had
that dark red hair, those impossibly long eyelashes, and those eyes. Forest green. But they could turn dark with protectiveness, or desire.
Or pain.
He had caused all three in her.
Michael sat back in his chair as he ran his hand through his hair and exhaled, wondering if she’d forgiven him. It would be typical of her if she had.
But he didn’t even know if he wanted her forgiveness.
She had been civil today, but not amiable.
Professional.
That openness, that innocence, the unfailing and unconditional acceptance she had always shown him, despite what he was, was gone.
She was the only one who had ever given him that, and he’d destroyed it. Consciously.
Michael closed his eyes as he dragged his hands down his face, because as much as he longed to have that back, even for a minute, he hoped she hadn’t forgiven him.
He didn’t deserve it.
December 2000
Del stood up against the lockers in the East Building, waiting for his friend Jay so they could cut fifth period and go down to the deli to grab something to eat.
The other students skirted past him, giving him a wide berth, and he watched them, the way they chattered mindlessly, the way some of the girls flirted pathetically, the way a few of them eyed him like they didn’t know if they should acknowledge him or run.
And then she walked past, glancing over at him and smiling softly before she stopped at her locker a few feet ahead.
She had been doing that for a while now. Ever since he had defended her against that arrogant asshole in Health class a few weeks ago, anytime she saw him or passed him, she would smile.
Once, when she had been entering the building as he was leaving, he held the door for her, and her shoulder brushed his chest as she smiled up at him and thanked him.
And now she was at her locker, balancing her books in one arm as she worked the combination of her lock, blowing her breath out the side of her mouth every few seconds to get the veil of hair out of her eyes. He couldn’t stop watching her.
She wasn’t like any of the other girls.
It wasn’t just because of the sweet way she acknowledged him. It was more than that. She didn’t carry herself like a freshman. Or a teenager at all, for that matter. She dressed trendy, but managed to do it with class, while other girls wore things that were tight and low-cut and made them look trashy instead of sexy. She seemed sophisticated, but not arrogant. She was quiet, but not withdrawn. He could tell she watched everything; she took it all in, assessing everyone and everything around her.
And because of that, she shouldn’t have been smiling at him the way she did. She should have been afraid of him.
Even that Jenn girl who was always with her gave him an uneasy look whenever he’d pass, or she would whisper vehemently in Lauren’s ear in either disgust or horror when Lauren would acknowledge him.
Yet she still continued to do it.
Lauren opened her locker, jumping back suddenly as a book tumbled out, and as she struggled to catch it, the other books she was holding scattered to the floor.
Without thinking, he pushed off the lockers and walked toward her. She was crouched on the floor gathering her things, and he knelt down beside her, reaching out to grab the last of the books.
Advanced Biology.
“Here you go, Red,” he said, handing her the textbook, and she glanced up at him and smiled.
“Thanks.”
“You’re in Advanced Bio?” he asked as he stood. “Aren’t you a freshman?”
Lauren stood on her tiptoes as she placed some of the books back on the top shelf. “Yeah. I’m a year ahead in sciences. It’s kind of my thing,” she said with a shrug, brushing the hair out of her eyes before pulling a notebook off the shelf.
He leaned back against the locker next to hers, folding his arms. “Are you in Wendt’s class?”
“Yep. Good ol’ Wendt,” she said with an eye roll, and he smiled. It was the first real conversation they’d had, and he found himself scrambling for a way to keep it going.
“You ready for that unit test next week?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said. “You?”
Del laughed as he absently ran his fingertips over the vents on a nearby locker. “Me? No. I’m screwed.”
She turned then, looking up at him with dark green eyes. It was the first time he noticed what color they were.
“Do you want me to help you?”
It took him a second to answer. “Do you want to help me?” he finally asked, genuinely confused.
“Sure,” she said casually as she turned away for a moment to close her locker. When she turned back to face him, she pulled her books into her chest and looked up at him. “I can help you after school for a bit. I have practice at three, but if you’re free before then, we could go over some stuff.”
He straightened up as he ran a hand through his hair. He had no idea what to say to that.
She blinked up at him, waiting, and at the look in her eyes, he felt his shoulders soften. “Yeah, that’s cool. We can meet up for a bit after school today if you want.”
“Okay.”
“Alright, see you then,” he said, turning quickly as he walked way from her in a stupor.
“Wait, Michael?”
He froze as the oddest feeling settled over him. No one called him Michael. Ever. Not even his teachers called him by his real name. The only one who ever had was his grandmother. It should have bothered him that she didn’t call him Del. Michael was too familiar.
But for some reason, he realized, Del wouldn’t have seemed right on her lips.
He turned, and she was still standing at her locker, looking at him. “Where do you want to meet?”
She’s actually serious about this, he thought before he finally said, “Um, you know where Palace Pizza is?”
“Yep,” she said. “See you then.” And then she smiled her quintessential smile before she turned and walked down the hall, leaving him staring after her.
By the time Del was walking up the sidewalk toward Palace Pizza, he had convinced himself she wouldn’t be there. She had been put on the spot back at her locker and felt obligated to offer him help. But after she’d had time to think about it, she’d change her mind. It was one thing to smile at him in the halls; it was another to spend an afternoon alone with him.
She’d come to her senses by the end of the day, he assured himself.
But as he reached the glass door of the pizza parlor, there she was, sitting with her back to him in one of the booths and twirling a strand of hair as she read something in her notebook.
After a baffled second he walked in; Lauren turned when she heard the bell ding above the door, and when he hesitated, she waved him over.
“Hi,” she said as he sat across from her.
“Hey,” he said, still feeling caught off guard. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
She pulled her brow together. “Why? Didn’t we say we’d meet here?”
He looked at her then, and he saw that she genuinely didn’t understand why he thought she wouldn’t show up.
“Can I take your order?” the waitress asked as she approached their table with a pad in her hand. Del pulled his attention away from Lauren to look at the waitress as he gestured for Lauren to go first.
“Um, I’ll just have a plain slice, thank you.”
“Me too, but make it two,” Del added.
“Three plain. Got it. Help yourselves to a drink,” she said, motioning to the beverage refrigerator on the far wall as she walked back toward the kitchen.
Del slid out of the booth, walking over to the glass doors of the fridge. “What’s your poison, Red?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Iced tea, please,” she said, and he grabbed a can of iced tea and a can of root beer before he sat back down and placed it in front of her.
“Why do you keep calling me Red?”
He blinked at her for a second b
efore he leaned over and took a strand of her hair in between his fingers and held it up in front of her face.
“Yes, I get that part,” she said with an eye roll, and he couldn’t help but grin as he let her hair fall from his fingers. “Do you not know my name?” she asked.
He felt his smile drop, and she quickly added, “It’s no big deal. People don’t really know me. And I mean, it’s not like we’re even friends or anything, so…” She trailed off, busying herself by digging in her backpack.
“Why do you call me Michael?” he countered, and she froze, glancing up at him.
“Isn’t that your name?”
“No one calls me that. Everyone calls me Del. I don’t think anyone even knows my real name is Michael, except for the principals here. How did you even know that?”
Lauren bit her bottom lip, and if he didn’t know better, for a second she almost looked guilty. “I can’t remember where I found out,” she said, looking down and going through her backpack again. “Do you want me to stop?”
He spun the can of root beer in his hand and looked at her. “You don’t need to ask anyone’s permission for anything in this life. You can do whatever you want.”
At that moment, the waitress brought over their slices, and Lauren glanced up and thanked her as she slid her notebook to the far side of the table to make room.
She opened her iced tea before looking up at Del, tilting her head as she watched him lift his slice and turn it around, taking a bite out of the crust first.
“The crust is the best part,” he explained around his mouthful of food. “If they made an all-crust pizza, I’d be a pig in shit.”
Lauren took a delicate bite of her own slice. “I’m pretty sure they do. It’s called bread.”
He stopped chewing as he looked at her, and a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. She’s a wiseass, he thought with equal parts amusement and appreciation, and she smiled to herself before she took another bite of her pizza.
“Okay,” she said after she’d followed it with a sip of iced tea. “So, did you get the notes on the evolution of microbial life?”
She seemed so at ease with him. It didn’t make sense. He found himself watching her face, her movements, constantly appraising her. If it was an act, he would have seen through it by now.
Kiss Kiss Page 29
