Secret Lucidity(99)

He turns into the student lot, completely dodging my question when he parks the car, saying, “We need to hurry before we’re late.”

I curse the tension that returns, but it doesn’t do anything to curb the curiosity I have about him. Why the heck is this guy so evasive when I attempt to dig the same way he does with me?

“Thanks for giving me a ride.”

The both of us step out of the car, and he gives me a halfhearted “See ya later,” before we head in different directions once inside the school.

I make it through my next two classes before sixth period comes around, all the while trying not to dissect Kason when I know nothing about him. He’s already sitting at his desk with his notebook open when I walk in.

“Hey.” My voice comes out meek when I take my seat in front of him, and he responds with an equally meek, “Hey,” of his own.

I don’t attempt to say anything else, and it isn’t even a solid minute later when our teacher takes to the front of the class, offering me only a shred of distraction from the guy who sits behind me. Then, like yesterday, when the bell rings, he rushes out of the class and leaves me behind to pack up my bag and wonder what his deal is.

When I arrive home from school, my mother’s car is already parked in the circular drive.

“Mom,” I call out as I walk through the front door.

“In the kitchen, dear.”

“What are you doing home so early?”

When I walk in, she turns away from whatever she’s cooking and gives me a tight hug. “I had to go get new tags for the cars and decided to come home instead of going back to the office.”

I take a seat at the bar as she stirs whatever jarred sauce she’s heating up. If there’s one thing my mom is not, it’s a cook.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home last night until after you were already asleep.”

“It’s okay.”

“Tell me how your first day went.”

I watch my mother, who shares the same bright blonde hair as I do, tend to her cooking in her high heels and pencil skirt, and smile. “I’m happy you’re home.”

Looking at me from over her shoulder, she shoots me a wink. “Dish, girl. I want to hear all about it.”

“You act like my life is soap opera worthy.”

“Honey, you’re seventeen. Everything should be soap opera worthy.”

I shake my head and proceed to tell her about the past two days. I talk about Micah and yesterday’s afternoon trip to the beach and today’s lunch out at the bay. I then go on and mention Kason and my limited interactions with him. My mother and I have always had a close relationship, despite the fact that her job demands she spend more time in the office than at home with me.

“I get the feeling that he finds me annoying and only talks to me out of politeness. I mean, Micah practically gave him no choice but to drive me back to school after lunch.”

“My two cents?”

“Please.”

“Guys don’t behave out of politeness, especially teenage boys.”

“He’s just hot and cold,” I tell her and then retract my word choice. “Not hot. More like warm.”

She fills two plates with store-bought tortellini, spoons vodka sauce over the top, and places them on the bar top before taking her seat next to me.

“So, I take it this Kason is good-looking.”

“Extremely,” I gush, stabbing a tortellini before taking a bite.

“It’s day two, Ady. Give him a chance to warm up to you.”

“Oh, that’s another thing. He only calls me Adaline when he knows I prefer to be called Ady. It should annoy me, but . . .”

“But he’s hot, so you like it?”

“You’re crazy,” I accuse jokingly.

“And you’re not denying it,” she shoots back.

I shake my head at her.

“I wanted to talk to you about work. The firm has wasted no time handing me over my first case. It’s a pretty intense one that’s going to require a lot of long hours in prep for trial,” she explains. “I know we just moved here, but—”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I understand.” And I do. My mother is a criminal defense attorney and has an impressive record of wins under her belt. That doesn’t come to those who don’t put in the hard work and time. At this point, I’m used to taking care of myself.

She sets her fork down, and with an endearing expression, she tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“All the time,” I respond. “Seriously, though, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re my favorite.” She takes a bite of pasta. “I was thinking that since we’re having an early dinner we could go to the beach and do some exploring. What do you think?”

Most seventeen-year-olds probably wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with their mother, but not me. And when she offers her time, I take it, knowing how precious it is to the both of us.

“I’d love that. Just ditch the heels.”





There should be laws against creepers like me, but I can’t help myself. Although, at this point, I should really make it be known to Kason that the pool he’s been cleaning for the past two weeks is mine.