by Ella Fields
“Nice.” He turned out onto the street. “Are you by any chance wearing that bra right now?”
And so the flirting was back. “I’m not. It needed to be washed first.”
He forced a pout. “What color?”
“Not telling.”
He groaned. “Seriously? What’s the harm in telling me the color?”
I suppose there wasn’t. “Candy pink.”
“Candy pink,” he repeated, almost missing a red light.
“Dash, red.” I grabbed the oh-shit handle.
“Did you by any chance get matching panties?”
“This conversation is over. I’d like to live to see my nineteenth birthday, thank you.”
“So sure of yourself.”
I burst out laughing, then frowned when I saw he’d taken a wrong turn at the light. “Where are you going?”
“Just feel like taking the scenic route. So what’d you do with the balloons Romeo got you?”
“His name isn’t Romeo, and shit.” I cringed. “I left them in the teachers’ staff room.”
Dash barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’s too good.”
“Shut up.” I moaned. “This is so bad. What do I tell him when I get them on Monday?”
“That you didn’t want them, so you abandoned them.”
“You’re no help. I love balloons.”
He blew a raspberry, waving me off.
My eyes narrowed when he turned down a long, tree-lined street that sat opposite the bay.
I almost punched him in the chest as my arm flung out when he pulled into the long gravel drive that led to my dad’s place. “Okay, what the hell are you doing?”
“Thought we’d swing by and see your old man.” Dash didn’t say anything else as he jumped out of the car.
Clad in his usual tight white T-shirt, leather jacket, black denim jeans, and combat boots, he stood on the drive, dragging a hand over his thick hair as he waited for me to get out of the car.
Confusion held me in its befuddling grip as I followed him up the drive to my dad’s three-story yellow and white vintage restored home.
I used to swear to my parents it was haunted. I would hear creaking noises and mumbled shouts on the third floor long after my parents had gone to bed. But whoever it was that stalked the attic, office, and guest rooms never ventured down to the other floors.
“My dad’s away.”
“Ah, but he returned early.”
The front door opened, and there he was, a smile as glowing as the sun on his aging face. Wearing his jeans and a plaid shirt, he checked his Rolex. “Just in time, birthday girl.”
“For what?” I shook my head, then raced over, throwing my arms around his neck and inhaling the scent that could only ever belong to him. Cigars and some kind of cherry-scented soap used to wash his clothes.
His hold was strong, and when I stepped back, I smiled up into his green eyes.
I had him to thank for my blonde hair, but his was now mixed evenly with gray.
“You look good, Dad.”
“You look like you’ve shot up in a matter of months, not years.” His hands landed on my shoulders. “Eighteen.” His smile was nostalgic. “I got you something.” He turned and headed toward the four-car garage, clicking a button on the keys he’d plucked from his pocket.
My lungs almost collapsed, I sucked in a breath so hard and fast.
In the garage sat a bright red Volkswagen Beetle. I steeled myself, and the burning in my eyes, turning to him with a smile that hurt my face. “I wasn’t aware you were a fan of red.” The other two cars in the garage, a Lamborghini and a Porsche, were black.
He bellowed out a laugh, then walked over and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Very funny. It’s yours.”
“Dad …” I didn’t know what to say.
“Your mom was a bit pissed, but she’s held me off since you turned sixteen.”
“It’s freaking beautiful.”
That earned me another chuckle, and he pulled me closer, unlocking it and forcing me to take a seat inside.
My hands spread over the leather steering wheel, fingers floating over every dial and screen inside. “I can’t believe this.”
“Soon enough, you won’t need me for much at all.”
I’d almost forgotten Dash was there, and I got out of the car, grinning at him. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
His answering smile made my heart thrash, and heat spread up my neck. Looking back at Dad, I wrapped my arms around him again. “Thank you. I love it.”
“Dashiell helped me pick it out.” My dad was one of the only people Dash allowed to call him by his full name, but his nose still twitched whenever it happened. “Picked the color, model, all of it.”
“Didn’t get paid for out of my bank account, though,” Dash said, chuckling. “Thank fuck.”
I took a step back, gazing up at Dad. “You didn’t need to do this, especially one this expensive.”
Dad’s bushy brows met. “Don’t tell me what I did and didn’t need to do. No one was taking this opportunity from me.” He jerked his head at Dash. “Despite his smart mouth, if he didn’t like driving your tushy around town all the time, he’d probably have done it too.”
Dash shrugged. “Nah, I got her a yearly pass to Hooters. Much cheaper, and let’s face it, nicer things to look at.”
Dad’s lips twisted. “Your dad hasn’t thrown you out yet?”
“Will you take me in when he does?” Dash’s eyes lit.
Dad chuckled, then thumped Dash on the back. “Come on, Peggy Sue. The fun isn’t over yet.”
I struggled to drag my gaze away from my car. My. Own. Freaking. Car. But I did, catching up with them as they headed up the stairs and inside.
“Surprise!”
I screamed, my hands slapping my face as Mom, Phil, Daphne, Willa, Suella, Lars, Raven, Jackson, Dad’s closest friends, and more people from school jumped into the foyer.
Streamers flew into the air, cameras flashed, and music turned on as they all crowded me. Everyone was dressed in skirts, dresses, heels, half-suits, and nice shirts.
Still feeling petty about the fact I hadn’t shown it off, I was wearing the same outfit I’d planned to wear to Wade’s party the previous weekend. But after looking at some of the guests mingling and drifting through my dad’s house, I felt woefully underdressed and every inch my age.
Half an hour later, after yet even more people from school arrived, I cornered Mom in the kitchen before she left. “How’d you do all this?”
“Wasn’t me.” She shouldered her handbag, then fluffed my hair. “If you drink, just don’t get too crazy.”
I nodded, hugging her tightly, then Phil as well, and asked, “So Dad organized it?”
Mom smiled. “He allowed it, but no.” She looked through the kitchen, and I followed her gaze to where Dash was stacking presents on the table in the dining room.
She and Phil walked off. A knot rose up my throat, lodging there as I felt my eyes grow wet. Scratching his head, Dash stepped back, studying his handiwork. He’d made a color-coordinated tower out of all my gifts.
When he was satisfied, he grabbed his drink, then spun on his heel, freezing when he saw me watching. “Freckles, apparently people like you.”
I didn’t trust myself to talk, so I didn’t.
He strolled over, swinging a thumb over his shoulder to the pile. “Figured you’d want a photo for the cut and pasting shit you do. Speaking of, I got you something. Come with me.”
I followed him into the dining room and stopped when he pulled out an unwrapped box. He’d stuck a purple bow to the top and shrugged, handing it over. “If I’d wrapped it, it would have looked worse.”
I took it, setting it on the dining chair.
“Hey, birthday girl,” Daphne called. “Someone missed the memo and got here late.”
I turned to find Byron heading toward me with a flat look on his face. “Hey, you.” I went to him as he held his arms
out.
He kissed my forehead. “Sorry, I was told to be here at eight.”
I groaned, pulling away to glare at Dash, but he was gone. My frown wilted as I tried to search for him.
“I know you said you didn’t want anything but cake, so …” Two gentlemen carrying an extra-large cake came in behind him, my dad directing them to the kitchen.
“Holy shit.” I raced in there as they set the cake down, my eyes roaming up and over the four giant tiers.
Hanging from the top was an envelope. Byron grabbed it, handing it to me as my dad saw the two men out.
I tugged out a card that read Happy Birthday with bright yellow sunflowers. Inside, two pieces of paper almost fell to the floor. “I know you probably need to clear it with your mom, but I thought, if she’s cool with it, that you’d wanna come see some snow with me over winter break.”
“I love snowboarding,” I said, smiling.
“I know.” He grinned, poking me in the cheek. “Willa and Daphne told me.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m any good, though.” I gave him a pointed look.
He chuckled, and I rose onto my toes to kiss his cheek. His head turned, and I was thankful my dad was no longer in the room, for his mouth opened mine and his arms caged my body to his.
His lips devoured, and his tongue glided. I bit his bottom lip before smiling against his mouth. “Thank you.”
“Did you open my present?”
I stumbled back from Byron at Dash’s question and couldn’t meet his eyes as he stood against the kitchen doorway. As if he’d been standing there for way longer than I would have wanted him to.
“I will soon,” I finally said, putting the airline tickets back inside the card.
“You were told to buy a cake, not to whip your dick out and show everyone how big you wish it was.”
Byron stilled. “The fuck is your problem? Because I’m pretty sure you solved any you had with Annika last Friday, right?”
Annika? My head snapped up, flying to Dash. He’d come over right after the party and tried to hook up with me. A curdling sensation roiled inside, souring those minutes I’d shelved as something sweet.
Dash scratched at his cheek, laughing beneath his breath. “Low blow, but I’m feeling generous, so I’ll let you have it. Later, Pegs.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get my dick wet. Want it to be you this time?”
Willa’s eyes popped as she halted outside the kitchen, hearing Dash’s words.
She looked at his retreating back, then at me, questions abuzz in her startled eyes. “Later,” I mouthed.
Byron scrubbed at his chin. “He’s really—”
“Oh, my God. It’s amazing!” Willa purposely cut Byron off, and I gave her a small smile in thanks. “When can we eat it?” She clapped her hands, bouncing in her heels.
“How about now?” Dad said, coming into the kitchen with a pack of candles and a lighter in hand.
After being mortified in front of God knows how many people as everyone sang “Happy Birthday” and each took a slice of cake, Dad and his friends retired to the pool house to give us some space.
But when the bass started thumping through the walls, I started feeling unsure. It was one thing to attend parties, but a whole different beast to host your own. Especially while your parent was present, even if he wasn’t in the main house.
I spent the next few hours cleaning as everyone danced, laughed, and drank—though I didn’t know where they’d gotten the alcohol from.
Byron found me when it was nearing eleven with a beer in his hand and some fruity looking drink in the other. “You’re like the little cleaning fairy, disappearing whenever I think I’ve finally caught sight of you.”
I took the offered drink, tired, a little sweaty, and somewhat irked. “I just don’t want anything to get messed up.”
Byron nodded, then swayed a little on his feet. I frowned. “You okay?”
“Think I’ve had a little too much.” He pinched his fingers together.
Offering a weak smile, I popped the top on my melon concoction, tossing the cap into the trash bag I’d been carrying from room to room. “How’d you guys get the alcohol anyway?”
He used his beer to point at some of the guys out by the pool. “Danny’s older brother.”
“His brother is here?” More and more people had shown up, and if I was being honest, it was starting to make me anxious.
“Nah, just bought it for him. Come dance.” He tried to grab me, but I ducked left.
“I’m okay. I’m going to clean up a little more.”
Byron pouted, then backed up when someone called out to him, and left me there.
I didn’t wait for him to come back and quickly grabbed some empty chip bags from the coffee table, then some rogue soda cans rolling over the Indonesian rug.
I tossed them in the trash bag, then took a long sip of my drink, pausing with it in the air when I caught sight of Dash out by the pool.
Some of the anxiety fled my shoulders when I saw he wasn’t doing what I’d feared he was. Though why I’d feared it, why I still felt sick over what Byron had said Dash did at Wade’s party, well I didn’t know why or how to figure it out.
He was walking around, collecting bottles and cans in his arms and taking them to the bin he’d wheeled over to the pool fence.
He was also shirtless.
While he didn’t have the washboard abs the guys on sporting teams at school liked to flaunt, he had some, and he was still fit. His skin sun-kissed and smooth. He’d developed lean muscles from the small amount of weight training and cardio he did—when he could be bothered—to ride his dirt and BMX bikes.
His golden back faced me, his shoulders expansive, tapering gradually to his hips. His chest was mostly hair free, but as he turned and my eyes dipped lower, my mouth dried. His ripped stomach contracted as he bent over to grab a bottle, then straightened. The tiny trail of hair leading inside his pants had me pondering whether I’d touched his stomach at all in any of our practice sessions.
In fact, I couldn’t help but think I’d maybe overlooked too much of him in general.
I took the trash bag outside, a cautious smile at the ready when he caught me heading toward him even though what Byron had mentioned earlier still poisoned my stomach.
He held the lid open for me, closing it when the bag was inside. “This isn’t birthday girl behavior.”
“I can’t relax,” I said.
He ran a hand through his damp hair, then dragged the trash over to the sitting area by the porch. With a jerk of his head, he gestured for me to follow him inside.
I did, taking long sips of my drink as I tried to ignore the make-out sessions, body grinding, and copious amount of drinking happening in my dad’s meticulously kept backyard.
“Did you get your you-know-what wet?” I asked, the beverage in my hand warming my limbs as he headed upstairs.
Dash huffed. “Dick? And yeah.”
I almost tripped up the steps, and he caught my arm. “How many of those have you had?”
“This is my first one.” I pushed some hair from my eyes, unable to meet his, then kept walking upstairs.
“I took a swim. Been a while since I’ve been in that pool.”
I laughed. “That’s what you meant by getting your dick wet?”
He reached me as we hit the landing, and we moved down the rug-covered hall to my room. Arched windows lined the walkway, and I remembered sitting at the biggest one at the top of the stairs as a kid, pretending I was a princess in a castle, getting annoyed with Dash when he refused to play my prince.
“You always wanted to be the villain,” I said.
Dash followed my gaze over his shoulder to the big arched window, knowing what I was thinking about. “And you always tried to make me something I wasn’t.”
I bumped his shoulder with mine, smiling. “Or maybe, the person you were always supposed to be.”
“Caref
ul, now. If you think too highly of me, you’ll only be letting yourself down in the end.” I snickered as we found my old room. He switched on the light and shut the door halfway.
It was pink. Everything. The duvet, the walls, the old wooden dollhouse in the corner, and even the drapes. Nothing had changed. My white twin bed sat exactly where it had the day Mom and I left.
I exhaled a wistful sigh, then spotted the box Dash had given me on the end of the bed and walked over to it. “You brought it up here?”
“I didn’t want to risk anyone ruining it. You’ll see why when you actually open it.”
His last words held some bite, causing guilt to gnaw quick and sharp.
I picked up the box, taking a seat with it on my lap as Dash started messing with my old Goosebumps collection.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I got distracted. I didn’t mean—”
“Just open it.”
I tugged off the silky purple ribbon, then opened the cardboard flaps to reveal what was inside. Photographs, possibly hundreds, dating back to when we were newborns.
Tears collected, and I couldn’t contain them as I started sifting through the memories. “Dash,” I croaked, closing my eyes to try to steady myself.
“You do all that scrapbooking shit with your friends, but I’ve yet to see you make an album for us. So it’s a selfish present, but I don’t even care.”
It was the furthest thing from selfish he’d maybe ever done. It would’ve taken him weeks, maybe months, to find, collect, and print all of these. We both knew that, but I let him keep his brick and mortar shield in place and reopened my eyes to finish looking through them.
Soon enough, he’d fetched more drinks from downstairs, then took a seat beside me as we replayed and retold as many memories as we could remember.
“I did not wear a diaper until I was four.”
“Pictures don’t lie, Freckles.”
I shoved him. “It was Halloween.” I drained the rest of my third drink. “I was dressed as Pebbles, and you were Bamm-Bamm.”
His lips puckered as he studied the photo. “I didn’t wear a diaper, and I was George of the Jungle.”
“You were Bamm-Bamm.”
“Bamm-Bamm and Pebbles don’t wear diapers.”
“They do, puffy Stone Age diapers.”
