Never Let You Go(62)

Hey, don’t leave a guy hanging!

I laugh and text, OK, see you soon.



Two hours later, Jared’s sitting on my couch and looking around at our colorful living room with its mismatched furniture and paintings. It’s strange seeing him here—like an actor who walked onto the wrong movie set and doesn’t realize yet that he doesn’t belong. We’re like a box of Crayola crayons, and he’s willow charcoal, all velvety shadow and interesting layers.

“This is nice,” he says.

“Thanks. It must seem really small to you.”

“No. It feels like a real home.”

“I guess.” Angus is bumping his head into Jared’s legs and dropping his wet ball onto his lap. “Sorry,” I say as I try to drag Angus away from him, which is kind of like trying to move a duffel bag full of cement blocks.

“I don’t mind. I like dogs.” He may not mind, but as far as I’m concerned, three’s a crowd. I get a bone from the kitchen and Angus instantly loses all interest in Jared.

My cell phone rings. I glance at the call display—it’s Andrew. I drop the phone on the coffee table—as if he can look through it and see me ignoring him.

“Who was that?” Jared says.

“My dad. He wants me to come over, but I’m not going.”

“I thought you told him you didn’t want to see him again?”

“I did, but I don’t think my dad takes no for an answer.”

Jared reaches out and holds my hand. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out the other day.”

“It’s okay,” I say, feeling my face get hot. I was hoping he wouldn’t bring it up.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. That’s kind of the problem. I liked it.”

“Oh.” He looks happy, then shifts his weight and leans closer to me on the couch. Angus gets off his bed, rams his head between us, and whines for attention.

“I’ll put him outside.” Angus doesn’t want to go and I have to bribe him with dog cookies. When I come back inside, my cell is ringing again. Jared hands me my phone.

“It’s your dad. He texted.”

I feel weird that he looked at my call display. Did he read my texts? Maybe he only glanced at them because he was curious—and concerned. I would probably do the same.

I shove my phone into my pocket without looking at the text and sit back down on the couch. I don’t like thinking about my dad sitting at home waiting for me to call, but more than that, I’m angry. Why can’t he give me some space? “I wish he’d leave me alone.”

“You sure you don’t want to see him? He seems upset. I can drive you.”

I shake my head. “He promised to stay away from my mom, and then he went and put a present on her car window!”

“That’s kind of romantic.”

“It’s freaky.” I give him a look.

“Sorry. I guess I just understand how you can like someone that much.”

“What if the person doesn’t like you back?”

“Then he should definitely give up. But I wouldn’t give you up that easily.” I know he’s just trying to flatter me, but why doesn’t he get that what my dad is doing is wrong?

He holds my hand again, rubs small circles on my palm with his thumb. “I’m really glad you’re coming tonight. It will be fun. There’ll be booze and drugs going around, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want, okay?”

“Your mom told my mom it’s a dry party.”

He laughs. “She tells all the parents that, but they leave us alone downstairs and we just do whatever we want.”

“Wow.”

He shrugs. “My parents don’t care what I do as long as I don’t make them look bad in front of their friends. My dad’s been giving me beer since I was like thirteen.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. He has lots of prescription pills and he knows I take them sometimes, but he never gives me shit. He just doesn’t want me to tell my mom about all his affairs.”

Holy crap. So his family isn’t as perfect as I thought. I guess I’m not the only one who has a messed-up dad. I should probably feel bad for Jared, but for some reason I’m relieved.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” I say. I’m a little freaked out to hear that Jared takes prescriptions, but it can’t be anything too serious. He doesn’t seem like he’s a drug addict.

“Not really. I didn’t like it when he was messing around with my babysitter. I walked in on them when they were doing it. He bought me my first camera after that.”

I stare at him, stunned. “That’s just so horrible.”

“I haven’t told any of my friends.” He’s looking at me intently. “But I trust you.”

“I’ll never tell anyone,” I say. He leans closer, gives me a gentle kiss on the mouth. I relax into the couch and we kiss for a few minutes. This time he’s slower, more cautious, and doesn’t put his hand under my shirt. After a while, he raises his head and smiles down at me.

“You ready to go to my house?” He glances at his watch. “My mom is probably waiting.”

“Sure. I just have to let my mom know.” I fire off a quick text, get her reply almost instantly. Don’t forget the laundry! Right. “I have to put some clothes in the dryer.”