by Mj Fields
When he holds up a cordless phone, I almost die.
Mimicking him, I laugh. “I thought hell would freeze over before we got one of those damn things.”
Kendall giggles. “He said it wasn’t a birthday present; it’s a family gift. I think he did it for you.”
“He definitely did it for her,” Alex agrees.
Dad answers the phone. “Ross residence.” He holds the phone out. “It’s for you.”
I look at Kendall. “Be right back.”
She nods as I take the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby.” If the words didn’t give it away, the voice certainly would have.
“Hi.”
“Am I calling too late?”
I look at Dad as he stands. He doesn’t look upset.
“No, I guess not.”
“Still pissed at me for being an ass?”
“Nope,” I say, making my way out to the deck.
“Seven words lead me to believe otherwise.” He sighs.
“Seven words?”
“Now nine.”
It dawns on me that he’s actually counting my words. “Gotcha.”
“Ten.”
I step outside onto the front porch and close the door behind me. “Eleven.”
“Aw … she’s quick,” he says, a smile in his voice.
“Audience. Now I’m outside.”
“Nice.” He clears his throat. “So, let’s start over. I’m sorry I was a dick. Just didn’t like seeing some other guy’s hands on you. I’ll try not to jump to conclusions next time.”
“Good.”
“Just make sure you give me the same courtesy, okay?”
“Um, sure?”
He chuckles then asks, “How was dinner?”
“Good. Weird. But good.”
“So, what does Tessa Ross do after nine o’clock on a Sunday night?”
“Not much, you?” Lame. I am so freaking lame.
“Can’t say as if I remember anything in the past, but tonight, just laying here, thinking of you and hoping this is going somewhere good.”
“So, you suffer from amnesia?” I joke. Again, lame.
He laughs quietly. Or, is it politely? Probably that.
“One could wish.”
“Maybe two could,” I whisper.
“We’ll work on that together.”
Together. I’m not sure if that scares me or makes me happy.
He continues, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“That was some storm.”
“The storm was just a moment. Slayed me laying above you, but not touching you. Laying there thinking about those lips and not being able to taste them … nearly killed me.”
I feel the blush begin, and I have no idea what to say.
“You with me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good. Do me a favor?”
“Uh-huh,” I repeat because, apparently, I am quite the conversationalist.
“Take that bear with you to bed tonight and think about me and not that other stuff?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“See you in the morning, baby.”
Baby.
“Sweet dreams.”
“They sure will be,” he says softly.
Chapter Seven
Standing at my locker, talking with Jade, Phoebe, and Becca, I see heads turn, and they do so in a big way. I look down the hall and see the cause of it.
The white hat boys.
But it’s not just the hats.
Lucas is wearing a pair of faded jeans that hang on his hips, held up by a black leather belt and a matching black Polo shirt, yet still the white hat. Tommy is in knee-length khaki cargo shorts and a white tee.
Jade smiles. “There’s our guys.”
“Check out the girls,” I whisper in annoyance.
Jade laughs. “And the boys.”
A sea of congratulations on Saturday’s win fills the halls, and I grumble, “Them, too.”
Grabbing her first period books, Jade whispers, “Chill, Tessa. He obviously only has eyes for you.”
Hands grip my shoulders as he says, “Good morning, Tessa.”
Annoyance has left the hall, and I feel that silly grin wobble on my face as I try to get my shit together as I turn toward him.
He takes my hand. “Can I walk you to class?”
“Sure, but you better lose the hat before you get it taken away.”
He takes it off, reaches over me, and then sets it in my locker. He takes my hand and shuts my locker door.
Now all eyes are on us and, although I enjoy singing and being on stage, I do not enjoy this. I especially don’t enjoy the looks I’m getting from the girls, and not just the implants, but people I’ve known for years.
“You’ll get used to it.”
I look up at him curiously.
“You’re dating the quarterback; let them look. Hell, let’s make ’em squirm.”
He doesn’t even give me a second to respond before his hands are on my cheeks and his lips fall over mine. He sweeps his tongue across my lips, and I open enough for him to … slip his cinnamon gum into my mouth.
“Check them out now,” he whispers in my ear.
I just stare at him, completely dumbstruck that I, Tessa Anne Ross, just tongue-kissed a boy in the middle of Blue Valley High’s “Make-Out Hall,” a place that I vowed never to put myself on a public display … like I just did.
He grabs my books from my hand, tucks them under his arm, takes my hand, and gives it a squeeze. Suddenly, I do not care about the onlookers at all. And, if I’m totally honest with myself, is this any worse than a packed football field on a Saturday afternoon?
“You better now?”
Pushing the piece of gum between my teeth, I look up at him, and he smiles. It’s seriously the best smile, too.
“You left something in my mouth.”
His eyes flare. “Tessa, don’t say that.”
I look at him, confused, and he shakes his head. “Never mind.”
Throughout the day I realized I needed to, at the least, come off cloud Lucas for classes—both of those we had together, and the ones I had without him, in which I thought about him the entire forty-three minutes—so that I don’t flop senior year. But lunch was even worse. Like make-out hall, all eyes seemed to be on us. He seemed unbothered by it, and I crossed my fingers, hoping I would get used to it, as he suggested several times throughout the day.
After practice, we all hung out in the parking lot for a good thirty minutes before I remembered I had responsibilities waiting at home and my first game tomorrow.
I also realized that, as much as I loved kissing Lucas Links, his hugs were epic, as well, which scares the hell out of me.
Once home and hearing Kendall talk about Mom’s place, namely the bathroom being so small that it only had a shower, I called her and asked if I could stay the night tonight. She seemed excited, and when she asked me why the change, I didn’t want to admit to her that I liked a long soak after my games, because that would not start our “visit” off on a good foot, so I told her I didn’t know.
Then I call Lucas and let him know, because Mom has a cell and not a house phone.
“Where’s her place?”
I tell him, and he offers to come pick me up in the morning, so I don’t have to ride the bus.
“It’s no big deal,” I say as I shove my uniform into my duffle bag.
“It’s actually on my way.”
“Doesn’t Tommy ride with you to school?”
“He has his own car; just likes mine better.”
“Really, it’s no big—”
“I’ll see you at seven,” he cuts me off.
“I think Mom will leave around then.”
“Okay … Seven fifteen.”
I throw my undies in my bag. “I don’t think it’s really that big a deal.”
“Perfect. See you then.” Before I can object, he says, “Take the bear, baby. Goodnight.”
“Sweet dreams, Lucas.”
“They’re only sweet because you star in them.”
Walking up the stairs to Mom’s place on Walnut Street makes me feel sick to my stomach. It feels wrong on so many levels.
When she opens the door, smiling, I try to match her energy, but apparently, I fail.
“It’s better inside,” she assures me as she steps back.
Walking into the tiny two-bedroom apartment, I thought I was prepared, but I’m truly not. I’m not sure it’s the apartment-sized kitchen with barely enough space on the counter for a coffee maker, making it abundantly clear that there will be no cookies baked at Christmastime here, or the stark white of it mixed with the lingering scent of Clorox.
This isn’t Mom. Nothing except maybe the Clorox scent even resembles her.
“I’m calling the decor minimalistic.”
“Accurate description,” I say, setting my bag on the floor.
“I made soup and salad. Have a seat.”
“I already ate.”
“It’s your favorite—French onion,” she says, opening the tiny oven.
I sit.
The soup is the only thing, so far, that resembles, even a little bit, the mom who was still living with her family less than a week ago.
“What do you think?” she asks, setting her spoon down.
Looking at my half-eaten crock of soup, I answer the only way that won’t be offensive. “The soup’s perfect. The same as …” I stop.
She reaches over the tiny, round table and puts her hand on mine. “Change is never easy.”
“You don’t say,” I mumble.
“The thing you need to remember is that we’re all going through it.”
I pull my hand back and pick up the spoon, and not because I’m the least bit hungry. I just need something to do with my damn hand that doesn’t include her. “But we all didn’t choose it.”
“Right,” she says then picks up her coffee mug and asks, “Tessa, do you really like that boy or—”
“Lucas is my boyfriend, Mom.” I spoon up some soup.
“He’s cute, Tessa. Just please remember what you were taught and who you are.”
“I got it, Mom. I’ll try to remember that none of it means anything, because after twenty years, it won’t matter anymore.”
“Tessa, you don’t know what I’ve lived through for those years. I don’t expect you to be happy about it. I do, however, expect you to be respectful of me and respectful of yourself always.”
“Right. Of course.” I push back from the table. “I have homework.”
“I can clear the table or—”
“Honestly, I’m tired. Just show me the”—closet—“bedroom.”
She points left. “This room has bunk beds.” She points right. “This one has a double.” Then she points to another door. “The TV room and the bathroom is in there, as well.”
After a cry in the “bathroom,” I pull myself together then join Mom on the daybed that she uses as a couch, and we watch Evening Shade while I do my math homework.
By eleven, I know she’s only awake because I am. “Go to sleep. I’ll lock up.”
“Do you know which room you’d like?”
“I’m guessing the bunk bedroom is for us, and the double is—”
“Actually, when I eventually get all four of you here, this”—she pats the space between us—“will be mine.”
“That’s nuts, Mom.”
“No, it’s my choice.” She smiles in what I think is an attempt to show me that she’s happy, but it does the opposite. It breaks my heart.
Laying on the bottom bunk, looking up at a picture I assume Kendall shoved up there, one of the seven of us, I get even more emotional. I reach down and pull the Teddy bear from my duffel and inhale the scent of Lucas’s cologne. It’s earthy and woodsy, which feels comfortable, but the added something altogether edgier makes me feel things that I am not comfortable feeling.
Mom left well before seven, giving me time to look around. After seeing her plastic containers full of her clothes under the “couch” and the box of pictures, many of her and Dad, I feel hopeful that it’s temporary.
When there is a knock on the door, I begin panicking, because it’s only ten after and I planned to meet him outside.
Opening the door, I feel mildly embarrassed, but it is what it is. “You’re early.”
“Drove by last night to make sure I knew where I was going. Saw your mom’s car, and it wasn’t here when I drove by, so I decided to surprise you.”
“How do you know what my mom’s car looks like?”
His lips curve up. “I’ve met Mrs. Ross and her car twice. The pond, when you took a swim, and the game.”
Stepping back, mildly embarrassed at not only the apartment but my stupid question, I shake my head. “Right. Well, please excuse the place.”
“I’ve seen worse. We have about thirty minutes before we have to leave. What do you want to do?” Lucas asked.
“I don’t know.” I cross my arms over my chest and look around.
“Baby, look at me. You never have to be nervous around me.”
I look back up at him.
“That’s better. Now, what do you want to do?”
“Kiss you, because it feels good.” No way did that just come out of my mouth. “Okay, that was so wrong and—”
“Look at me, baby.” He takes my hand as he sits in one of the kitchen chairs.
I turn and look at him. “That is kind of our thing, though. I mean, right? I know your mouth, but I don’t know a thing about you other than you play football and are an implant at Blue Valley High.”
“Implant?” He chuckles.
“You got put here, so …” I wave my hand in front of me, the one he’s not holding, the one his thumb isn’t softly brushing across, back and forth, as if to wipe away that whole conversation, knowing that would probably lead to the whole white hat boy conversation, because clearly, I’m not only rambling outwardly, but also inwardly.
“I have an idea.” He pulls another chair out with his foot then nods for me to sit.
I do so, while still holding his hand.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looks up at me. “You ask me a question to get to know me better. I get to kiss you after I answer. It’s a win-win.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “I don’t know about that.”
He squeezes my hand. “You need an audience to kiss me, Tessa Ross?”
“Oh my God, no,” I gasp.
“Good to know.” He sighs a bit, which is so un-Lucas-like. “So, what do you say?”
I look at the clock but nod, because I like that he seems to want this, maybe more than me. “I say we only have fifteen minutes.”
“Then you better make the best of it.” His eyes are sparkling, which makes him look, well, his age. It’s cute, a stark contradiction to his normal, insanely hot.
“Okay, but we can’t be late for school.” I do that stupid smile, which seems to make him chuckle.
He hooks his ankles around the chair I’m sitting in and pulls me close. “Knee to knee, right here.”
I nod, and he again graces me with one of those sweeter smiles.
“Ask away,” Lucas said.
“Parents divorced or married?”
“Divorced since I was three. Now my turn.” He leans in and kisses me.
Eyes still closed, I ask, “Who do you live with?”
“My mom. My father lives in New Jersey. We see each other a few times a year. My turn again.”
This time, I lean forward and kiss him lightly on the mouth.
When I start to pull away, he catches my lower lip with his teeth, his big hand gripping the side of my face, his fingers threaded through my hair, stopping my retreat.
“My answer was much longer and more detailed than that kiss. Give me more.” He kisses me quickly and nips my bottom lip before moving back.
“So, the deeper the
question, the longer the kiss, huh? Okay, let’s see.” I tap my lips, as if in thought. “Parents remarried or not? Siblings or no siblings?”
He laughs. “You’re tough, Tessa. After I answer this one, you may want to take a deep breath and ready those lips.”
I bite my cheeks to stop from smiling. In turn, his green eyes smile without his lips turning up as he answers.
“My parents divorced due to infidelity. My mother remarried first, to someone younger. They lasted three years. He had a pill issue and, apparently, that was contagious and expensive. Drinking is more budget-friendly. My father has remarried three times. The girls get younger every time, except the soon-to-be-ex-stepmother is older. He has two kids with wife number four, both girls. One is two, the other three. I see him on occasion, never really felt like any of his houses were homes. He owns a construction company. He likes to buy my love, thus the new car. which, at this point, I’m okay with.”
I’m not sure why, but him being so open and vulnerable makes him less godlike and more real to me. Therefore, I lean forward, take his face, and I kiss him.
I slide my tongue between his lips and strokes his. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer, causing me to have to stand in order not to break this kiss. He slides his hands down to my hips, and I find myself on his lap, lips never leaving his, and he groans.
Needing to breathe, I move from his lips to his cheek, and then to his neck.
His voice rough and strained, he says, “Tessa, baby, you need to stop.”
Embarrassed, I try to jump back. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I love how curious you are. Drives me crazy,” he says, fingers tangling in my hair. The other hand is still on my hip, his fingers digging in lightly. “Makes me want to do things to you.” He closes his eyes.
“You want to do things to me?”
“God yes, Tessa. Not one thing about you turns me off.”
I lean in, thinking I’d rather kiss him than have that conversation, but he leans back, looking … shocked.
“Tessa, what’s going on with you?”
“Is that a question?” I lean in. “If it is, don’t I get to kiss you?”
“You get you’re playing with fire, right? I’m on fire right now.”
