Trust(69)

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Mom said I’m only allowed to go out Saturday nights, and my curfew is nine o’clock. She’s going to be tracking my phone and randomly calling, because apparently acting like a deranged stalker is cool if you’re a parent.”

Nothing from him.

“Honestly, it’s like I’m twelve instead of seventeen.” Amazing, my voice had hardly any whine to it at all. “Might as well tuck me into bed with a teddy bear and turn on the night-light.”

“She busted us in your bed.” He shrugged. “Kind of expected worse, actually. Surprised she’s letting you out at all.”

“The negotiations were intense. We argued all yesterday. Things may have been thrown, and not only by me.” I winced. “God, this sucks. Maybe I should just move out. Don’t suppose you could lend me a few grand?”

“You and your mom are close. You don’t want to move out.”

“I don’t know.”

“What about me coming over during the week to study?” he asked. “Is that okay?”

Red alert. I rubbed my damp palms on my jeans. “It’s complicated. Why don’t we just study during lunch at school?”

“Complicated? What’d she say?” Lines furrowed his brow. “Edie?”

Shit. “That if we’re not serious, there’s no need for you to be over during the week.”

Silence. So very much silence.

“Look, it’s okay. I mean, I’ll miss spending time with you. A lot.” My words were such a mess. No good answer existed. “John?”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

“We can do that, be serious.” His face smoothed, all worries gone. “Right?”

I paused. Not the answer I was expecting.

“That a problem?” he asked, sounding less sure of himself now. He shuffled a little closer. “I mean, guess I should have asked first. But if this is the only way we can keep hanging out . . .”

“I don’t think you understand the depth of my mother’s psychosis,” I said, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. “For her to believe we’re official, you and your uncle would have to come over for dinner. I’m talking interrogation over pot roast, and she’d probably want to do it every couple of weeks or something. You’d probably be expected to turn up with flowers and candy. Possibly get my name tattooed on your forehead. I don’t know exactly. The woman is not sane.”

“Pretty sure Levi can fit it in. He likes you, asks me how you’re doing all the time.”

“That’s nice.” I swallowed hard. “It’s just, we agreed, Mom and I, not to lie to each other anymore. I’d like to try to stick to that.”

His chin dipped. “You think we’d be lying?”

“Wouldn’t we be?”

The bell rang, sending people scurrying in all directions.

“We’d better get to class.” I spun the dial on my locker at warp speed, picking up my bag and dumping the textbook I wouldn’t need until later.

“Edie.”

“Let’s talk about it at lunch. Mom will kill me if I get detention for again being late.” I about-faced and took off down the hall, John following at a more sedate pace. Thing was, official meant something not just to Mom, but to me also. It meant a lot. No matter how much I liked kissing and rolling around with him on my bed, maybe it would be for the best if we cooled things now before my dumbass heart got any more deluded.

Turned out he was busy come lunchtime, off shooting hoops with Anders. Guess there was my answer. John Cole would never be mine. Not in that way.





Someone was banging on the front door.

Mom, Matt, and I had just sat down to our first official family dinner. Meat loaf, baked potatoes, corn cobs, and green beans, to be followed by chocolate cake and Cool Whip. Hallelujah. Even my shitty grounded attitude couldn’t deny the healing qualities of Cool Whip.

Mom’s loved-up smile dimmed for a second as she rose, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Bad timing. Wonder who that could be.”

“Want me to get it?” I asked.

“No. It’s fine.” Her fingers drifted across the back of Matt’s neck as she passed. Gag. She opened the door, her back snapping straight at the sight of the person standing there. Hostility radiated. “Yes?”

“Whatever I have to do,” said a familiar deep voice.

“John?” I stood, surprised.

“However I need to prove myself to you, I’ll do it,” said John. “I don’t mind.”

Mom cocked her head. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Arms crossed, Mom stepped back and to the side, giving us the view of John standing in the doorway. Dark blue jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair had been neatly pulled back in a ponytail and there were two bouquets of bright flowers in his arms. He looked amazingly good. Confident and determined, apart from the careful neutral set of his face, the way his gaze kept moving between me and Mom.

I, on the other hand, broke out in a sweat. My heart beat double time and worse, it ached. Ridiculous, how I could have missed him when I’d only just seen him this morning in English?