Kissing in Cars (Kiss and Make Up #1)(50)

To illustrate her point, Kendall takes her fist and pretends to jam it in the air.

"Kendall!" Weston's mom shrieks loudly, her horrified voice vibrating through the cavernous family room. "What did I tell you about using that word?! Where on earth did you learn to say things like that?!"

Slowly, all our eyes move to Weston, who is suddenly fidgeting in his seat. He curls his lips in a scowl and throws his hands up. "Fine! It was me! Someone needed to teach her to defend herself!"

Mrs. McGrath is bright red. "That is not teaching her how to defend herself, young man. That's threatening another person with bodily harm - and a child no less! Telling your sister you'll shove a hockey stick up his bum, indeed!"

"Bum." Kendall mutters sassily, breaking the awkward silence that followed Mrs. McGraths shocked outburst. "So Molly, is my brother as cool at school as he thinks he is?"

"Mom, please make her stop."

"Come on, I need to know! He walks around here like he owns the place. I'm not even allowed in his room without permission," Kendall huffs with a pout.

"Well no kidding. The last time you went in there you let Jazzy sleep in my sock drawer while you used all my printer paper to make snowflakes. There were tiny scraps of paper everywhere for weeks."

"Pfft, big deal. It's not like I was in there reading that journal you keep under your mattress."

"Oh my god Kendall, I swear to all that is holy -"

Mr. McGrath, God bless him, clears his throat for the millionth time, and I might be mistaken, but there is a laugh threatening to burst out of him. "All right guys, that's enough," he finally says, the low baritone of his voice silencing everyone else in the room. He gives Kendall a warning look, than shakes his head at Weston before directing his gaze at me. "So. Molly." He pauses. "Matthew Wakefield is your brother, huh?"

Once again, he clasps his hands in front of him and leans forward in his chair. Weston quietly groans beside me, and nudges my knee with his thigh. "Dad..." he warns.

I put my hand on his knee but snatch it back immediately, for Mr. McGrath's eyes follow my movement and narrow. I receive the message loud and clear: no touching.

Got it.

"Yes sir. He's finishing his last year at Madison, and he's been drafted."

"Do you suppose that's what my son see's in you?"

Weston shouts "Dad!" at the same time Mrs. McGrath shouts "Brian!"

If I had been drinking liquid at the moment, I'm fairly certain I would have spit it out.

"It's a fair question, I would think. Weston is a senior and has never had an interest in girls because he's focused on his hockey career, then suddenly he's "dating" the sister of a future Anaheim Duck? Am I the only one who's not seeing what's wrong with this picture?"

He scratches his chin as if in deep thought.

What a jerk.

Laura McGrath stands abruptly and marches over to her husband though clenched teeth. "Brian sweetheart, can I see you in the kitchen please?" Not waiting for a response, she jerks him up by his arm, stalking out of the living room towing him behind.

"Sheesh, this just got awk...ward," Kendall muses. "Bet Molly's gonna think twice about coming back over here, hey Weston."

"Shut up Kendall," Weston grits out, his face contorted into a look of disgust. "Come on Molly, let's go get my bike." He hauls me up and turns to his sister ruffling the top of her head affectionately with his fingers. "Tell mom I'll be back in an hour."





WESTON


Kendall was right. That was freaking awkward.

What the f*ck was my dad's deal?

We drive in silence for a few miles in Molly's jeep (she let me drive) the rain still coming down, but in a gentle rhythm - more of a delicate mist than a heavy downpour that would be soothing if not for the circumstances surrounding us like a cloud inside the jeep.

I honestly have no idea what to say. "Molly...." is all that comes out. If she were one of my guy friends, I would demand that she shrug it off because my dad is nothing but an overgrown prick and a bully - but she's not one of my guy friends.

She's...

Different. I want to say 'special' but that sounds douch-ey, and sappy, and we've already established that I'm neither.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything," Molly says softly next to me, and now I feel like an even bigger ass. But it's not like I was going to waltz into my parent's kitchen and tell my dad off to defend her: he would have kicked my ass.

"I know but..." My eyes are trained on the road, and I'm trying my damndest to focus on our conversation, but the combination of wet road and the glare from the street lights make it hard to find the yellow line in the middle of the road - I don't want to get us in an accident.

Molly takes a deep breath. "Listen Weston. That totally sucked back there, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to take it personally," another deep breath. "But... don't think for one second that I haven't witnessed that scene before - or some version of it. I mean... Matthew is my brother, and he had girls falling all over him for all the wrong reasons. Still does." Her head is down, and she's fiddling with the zipper pull on her jacket. "Your parents just don't want some gold digger to get their claws into you because they think you're going to be playing Pro someday - or worse, for you to get some sleaze pregnant. No matter who her brother is, so... Yeah. I get it."