Pivot Point (Pivot Point #1)(30)

“Of course, hon.”

I nod, still not sure if she made me agree to go out tomorrow or if I chose that on my own. When she doesn’t leave I wonder what else she wants from me.

“Addie? Would you be interested in a mind relaxer to help you transition through this challenging time in your life? The department has some really good programs. Some I even helped develop. I can load one onto your tablet.”

Does my mom seriously think a mind-pattern program is going to make everything better again? As if it’s my mind that needs to change. I realize I haven’t said anything, but I’m pretty sure my look says it all. Just in case it doesn’t, I shake my head. “No.”

When she leaves I just want to pull the blanket over my head and go to sleep. I run my thumb along the keys on my phone and toy with the idea of canceling my ten o’clock meeting with Duke. Even though I know he’s in the middle of his game, I text: Make it eleven.

At ten o’clock the doorbell rings. I leap out of bed but am not fast enough to beat my mother, who was in the living room watching television. I had been wondering if she was going to sleep anytime soon. I arrive at the door just as Duke says, “Hi, you must be Addie’s mom. I’m Duke.”

My mom is cold when she answers, “Yes, I am. How can I help you?”

“I know it’s late, but I just got done with a football game.”

Duke will be disappointed to find out that my football-liking gene—or lack thereof—comes from my mom. Only, she likes it less than I do. He can’t use his star status to persuade her to do whatever it is he showed up at my door to do. Why didn’t he just meet me on the corner at eleven?

“And I know Addie is grounded,” he continues.

“She is.”

“But I hoped we could watch a movie together.” He runs a hand through his wet hair, sending off a wave of soap-scented goodness that I can smell from where I stand behind my mom.

“She can’t go anywhere.”

“I know. I expected as much.” He produces a smile. “That’s why I brought the movie here.” He holds up his digital card, where he must’ve uploaded a movie.

Nice try. My mom shifts from one foot to another and looks back at me. My jaw almost drops, and I have to clench my teeth to keep it in place. She is wavering. My mom doesn’t waver. “Well …”

“I promise to leave the minute it’s over. You should watch it with us too. I hear it’s a good one.”

Because that will be fun—my mom, Duke, and me, watching a movie together.

“If you’d rather I leave with my tail between my legs, just say the word.” He slowly starts to back up.

“No,” my mom says, and I let out a surprised, “Huh?”

She glances back at me again, and when she does, Duke winks. I don’t understand why my heart seems to think that action is so irresistible.

“Stay,” my mom says. “Addie has been the perfect detainee for the last thirty-six hours; she deserves a little fun.” Ah, there it is, the reason she’s relenting. It’s the same reason she wanted to go to a movie—she feels guilty. She steps aside, and Duke comes in. His arm wraps around my frozen-in-shock shoulders as he passes. Then he twists me until I stand in front of him, my back to his chest.

“Hi,” he says, and kisses my cheek before releasing me.

My mom gives me the look that says I’ve been holding out on her. I’m sure the only look I’m returning is the I’m-just-as-weirded-out-as-you-are one. My mom clasps her hands together. “Okay, well, you kids have fun. There’s popcorn in the kitchen if you want some, and Duke, don’t forget your condition of leaving right after the movie is over.”

“I thought you were going to watch it with us, Ms. Coleman.”

“No, thanks.”

As soon as my mom is gone, I hiss, “What happened to meeting me on the corner?”

“I had a feeling you were going to text your way out of that. And besides, sneaking around isn’t a good way to start a relationship. Especially one I want you to take seriously.”

One he wants me to take seriously? I walk past him to the kitchen without a word. In the pantry, I find a bag of popcorn and remove the plastic wrapping. While it’s popping, I grab a couple of water bottles from the fridge and put them on the counter. When the popcorn is done, I pour it into a bowl and carry it back to the living room. Duke’s card is already plugged into the port and he’s sitting on the lair, feet on the coffee table, arms stretched along the back cushion.

“Make yourself at home.” I place the popcorn on the coffee table and sit on the couch, even though he left plenty of space next to him. The lair may be bigger than a chair, but it’s the smaller-than-a-love-seat part that keeps me away. He doesn’t seem to notice my choice of seats or at least doesn’t act like he does.

“Do you have any water?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah, I left it on the counter.” I point to the island in the kitchen visible from where we sit. I don’t get up because I know he can whisk it over in the blink of an eye.

“You’re closer,” he says with a smile, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t want to show off.”

“Since when?”