Never Let You Go(52)

“I thought you were having a party,” I say. Jared’s standing close enough that I can smell his skin and shampoo, something clean, like the ocean. I glance at his clothes: his black skinny jeans are designer label and I’m pretty sure his gray V-neck sweater is cashmere.

“It’s a small party,” he says with a grin. “Only special people allowed. Come on, let me show you around.” He takes me through the house and I lose track of all the rooms. He’s so casual, almost bored-sounding as he points things out, like the house doesn’t mean that much to him. It’s nice, lots of wood, big windows, fancy leather furniture, but it doesn’t feel very warm or friendly. There’s no personality. He glances at my face a couple of times and I wonder if he’s checking to see if I’m impressed. He’s probably used to girls flipping out when they get the tour.

We stop in the kitchen. “I’ll make you a drink,” he says. He’s moving around like a bartender, tossing ice cubes into a glass, pouring rum, then adding Coke. His thumb ring clunks against the side of the glass. His hair is combed straight back like he used gel or something, but the front part flops into his eyes and he keeps pushing it back or tucking it behind his ears.

“Your house is really big,” I say. “Where’s your room?”

“Wow. That was fast.”

My face burns. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” He laughs. “You don’t like my house, do you?”

I think about how to answer. I could lie and say it’s awesome, but I get the feeling he doesn’t want me to like it, which is strange. “It’s nice. Seems like it could be lonely, though.”

Our eyes meet as he passes me the glass. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

I take a sip of the rum and Coke. It’s too strong, but I try not to make a face.

“Do you want to watch the movie? Or hang out in here?” he says.

“Don’t you want to see it?”

“I can watch it anytime. I’d rather talk to you.”

I glance into the living room. Delaney is laughing, looks like she’s having fun. Some of the kids have set their drinks on the wood coffee table, no coasters, and a bag of chips is spilling onto the carpet. I think about my mom having to clean it all up.

“Do your parents know you have friends over?”

“Yeah, they’re okay with it. My dad is working at his office tonight and my mom is away for the weekend with some of her friends.”

“Your friends are making a mess.”

“I’ll clean it up.” He gives me a curious look. “Just because we have a maid doesn’t mean I’m a slob.”

“My mom prefers to be called a housekeeper.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think.” He looks embarrassed now and I feel bad for being snarky.

“It’s okay. Sensitive subject, I guess.”

“I think it’s really cool that your mom has her own business.”

“She works hard.”

“She’s a good cleaner. My mom likes her a lot.” He says it so casually, rating my mom, and I want to tell him off, but I can tell he meant it as a compliment. I don’t like thinking of my mom scrubbing their floors and bathrooms. I wonder if his parents know he invited me over. What must it be like to have a happy family? With a mom who gets to go away and have a weekend with her friends. My mom never gets to do stuff like that.

“She found my pot stash under my bed one day and left it on my pillow. I had to find a better hiding place.” He laughs, showing a flash of white teeth. One of them is crooked and I wonder why he didn’t get braces. I hope he never does. I like him not perfect.

He looks at my face. “You don’t like weed?”

“It’s okay.” I’d actually only smoked it a few times with Delaney, whose older brother had some. I liked the way it made us giggle at everything, but we have just as much fun without it. I’m more surprised to hear about my mom. “You’re lucky my mom didn’t tell your parents.”

Jared shrugs. “She’s cool, I can tell.” I’m still thinking about that—how can he tell anything about my mom? do they talk?—when he leans over, plucks a red hair off my shirt, and holds it up to the light. “You have a boyfriend I don’t know about?”

“Yeah, his name is Angus. He’s about a hundred and twenty pounds, snores, eats a lot.”

“You got a dog. That’s awesome.”

“My mom wanted him for protection.”

“From your dad?”

I give him a look. “What do you know about my dad?”

“Nothing, really. She just told my mom a few things, like about her support group.”

I hate that my mom shared anything about our lives. She shouldn’t go around telling people private stuff. I don’t know why it bothers me so much that he knows my dad was abusive, but it makes me feel ashamed. Like if my dad is horrible, then part of me might be horrible too. Jared’s dad probably adores his mom and buys her flowers because it’s Friday or something.

“Maybe she should take the dog with her when she cleans. She does the big house at the end of Wakesiah on Thursdays. It has a really long driveway and is in the middle of nowhere.”

“How do you know that?