How We Deal With Gravity(38)
“No band tonight?” she says, dusting away the last few crumbs from one of the chairs before pushing it in all the way.
“Nah. I texted Ben, told him we’d hook up tomorrow night and rehearse,” I say, pushing my hands in my pockets and holding my breath, almost like I’m waiting for her to change her mind.
Claire studies me for a few extra seconds, her eyes focused and intense, before giving in. “Okay. I’ll call it a night then,” she says with a shrug. “If you think you’ll be okay.”
“I’ll be okay. If Max wakes up, I’ll just follow his lead,” I say, and she pauses to look up the stairs before coming back to me.
“He likes you, Mason. She likes you, too,” she says with a certain sense of warning to her tone. I don’t have a reply for her, and I don’t think she wants one—she wants me to know how Avery feels. For some reason, Claire is rooting for me, and I’ll take anyone in my corner that I can get.
I walk Claire to the front door, and flip the porch light on so she can see her way to her car, and so Avery can see her way home. “Remember what I said, Mason,” Claire hollers over her shoulder while she opens up the passenger door and dumps her stuff inside.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Don’t f*ck this up,” she says, her smile big, and I hold up two fingers, giving her my scout’s honor. Yeah, I’m a real Boy Scout.
I don’t know what I was expecting when Avery came home. For the next two hours, my emotions pretty much run the gamut, and the longer it takes, the more stressed out I get, until I’m full-on pacing from the kitchen to the living room. I actually pick up a book that’s sitting on the coffee table, some stupid romance of Avery’s, and I even read a few pages—like I’ve read a book…for fun…ever! I feel like the father of a teenage girl—the way I keep flipping up the blinds with every set of spotlights that come down the road, and when it’s finally hers, I can’t help but open the front door and stand out on the porch.
“You didn’t need to wait up,” she scoffs, brushing by me quickly, and heading right up the stairs.
Oh no. This is not happening. I may screw things up a lot, but this time, whatever’s up her ass, well…that ain’t my fault—it’s his. I follow her to her door, and catch up to her just as she reaches for the handle, and I pull it first, keeping it shut.
“Mason, I’m tired. I just want to go to bed,” she’s fuming. Whatever that * did, his time will come. But she is not making this about me tonight. I step in closer, and force her to look into my eyes, and it takes her several seconds to break away.
“Seriously, Mason. I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, her voice softer, but not by much. Her nostrils are still flaring, and I can tell she’s still angry. She’s not going to go to sleep. She doesn’t have to talk to me, but she’s got to let out some of this stress from this…this…crap deck she’s been dealt.
“Come with me,” I say, grabbing her hand in mine, and pulling her reluctantly behind me. She tugs in resistance a few times, so I wriggle my hand higher on her forearm to show her I’m not backing down, and eventually she gives in and follows me back down the stairs to the front door, but not without stomping her feet.
“Max is sleeping; I can’t go anywhere,” she sighs.
“I’m not an idiot; just come out front,” I say, leaving her standing on the porch while I run out to my car.
“Wait a second, where’s Claire? Did she leave you here…alone?” She’s shouting at me, and I already know where this is going, and I’m stopping it before it starts.
“She left after he went to bed. Like I said, I’m not an idiot. I can handle watching the house while a child is sleeping,” I half yell and whisper, waving my hands over my head while I sift through the crap in my trunk. I’m yell-whispering—what the hell? I’m so angry and frustrated right now; I want to kick something, but all I can think about is how I owe this damn girl a kiss, and how more than anything I want to give it to her—I want to give it to her right now. But to hell if I’m gonna make her associate my lips with whatever pissed-off juju she’s got brewing in that head of hers. And if last night wasn’t the right time, right now sure as hell isn’t.
I find what I’m looking for, and slam the trunk closed.
“Jesus, Mason! Quiet, you’ll wake Max up!” she says, and I can’t help but stop in my tracks at her absolutely ludicrous statement.
“Really? You think I’m making a raucous? You don’t think all this is probably enough to wake up half the damned street?” I say, pointing into the fully lit and wide-open house behind her, then circling her and finally pointing all around us in one big-ass motion.
She slips out a small giggle at first, then she covers her mouth, trying to hold it in, but she can’t, and pretty soon she’s laughing, full-on belly laughing. Oh my god, she’s laughing. It’s the greatest sound ever, and all I want to do is kiss her!
“You…” I point to her, “are going to ruin me woman.”
Her smile grows when I say that. I’m not even sure where it came from. I’ve never given anyone an edge like that; never let them know they have anything—any power—over me. But she laughs like that, one more time, her arms wrapped around her body and her green eyes lit up under the moon, and yeah…I’m ruined.