Until Trevor (Until, #2)(8)
“Oh! Trevor, honey, so nice to see you,” she greets, and he bends low to kiss her cheek.
“You too, Mrs. Hayes. I was just coming to remind Liz about our plans for the weekend.”
“Plans?” my mom asks.
“We’re going to see July, then to dinner afterwards,” Trevor tells my mother. Her face lights up like a Christmas tree, and she looks over at me smiling.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she claps—yes, claps—and I want to grab Trevor’s ear and haul him out of the store.
“Thanks for the reminder. I’ll text you if something comes up and I can’t make it.” I say, walking to the door and opening it.
“If you can’t make it, then I’ll just pick you up after,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “Just don’t forget your overnight bag,” he says, leaning closer. I know my jaw hit the floor. I look over at my mom and she’s beaming. I can see the sun shining from inside her. I look back at Trevor, ready to kick his ass for making my mom think that there is something between us that isn’t there. Then I feel his mouth on mine. I try to pull away, but his hand is in my hair at the back of my neck, holding me in place. He licks my bottom lip, then bites it softly. My hands had gone to his chest to shove him away, when I feel his other hand at the underside of my breast; my mouth opens, his tongue touches mine, and his taste fills my mouth. My brain is no longer in control. I kiss him back, one hand fisting his shirt, the other at the back of his head, his hair scraping against my palm. His mouth leaves mine; pulling me deeper into him, I feel his lips near my ear. “I forgot how much I love your mouth baby,” he groans, and I feel heat hit my face. Not only did I just do that in front of my mom, but he has the power; all he has to do is touch me and I’m his. “I’ll see you Saturday,” he says, pulling away. My brain is total mush; all I can do is nod. He says goodbye to my mom and leaves the store, with me standing right where he left me.
“I'm surprised that this place didn’t catch fire when he kissed you,” my mom says, beaming at me. I bite my lip, asking myself, not for the first time, what just happened.
“Um…”
“I mean, I'm your mom, but it looked like that boy knew how to kiss.”
“I ugh...”
“I know that he’s got a reputation with the ladies, but seeing him work, well, now I know they’re not just rumors,” she says, fanning herself.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. “Mom, please don’t get all excited, okay? Trust me when I tell you that nothing is going to come from this.”
“If you say so, honey,” she mumbles, going behind the counter. I walk to the back room of the shop, close the door, and scream at the top of my lungs, trying to get all the frustration I was feeling at that moment out. Once I’m done, I go back to stocking the shelves, trying to keep myself busy enough to forget about Trevor and his kiss. This doesn’t work, so I call Bambi, hoping that she can make me forget about Trevor. Unfortunately, she wants to talk about him, why he was there, and what happened when I left the club. I explain the best I can without telling her too much. Then I call November, and she also wants to talk about Trevor, and how he called Asher and told him that we would be there Saturday to spend some time with July. It was like the world is against me. Nothing helped me forget about him; even after I get home, I can still feel his mouth and hands on me.
*~*~*
“Do you want a beer?” Bill asks, coming to stand next to me. He called me this morning and asked if I wanted to go to a bonfire with him. Normally, I would avoid things like this because the women I went to school with act like they are still in high school. Being twenty–five, I think that it’s a little crazy to still whisper and talk crap about people behind their backs, then play best friends when they are standing in front of you. In school, I was a nerd…a big one. I had braces, my hair was short, and I dressed like a boy. When my dad passed away, my mom checked out; I know she tried, but it was hard enough for her to get out of bed most days. I think she figured that we didn’t need her, and that we were old enough to get up and go to school; and let’s not forget: cook for ourselves, do our laundry, or clean up after ourselves. Things weren’t easy, but I never wanted to be the one to rattle our fragile existence; so instead of telling my mom that I needed clothes, I would borrow my brother’s; instead of saying I needed a haircut, I would just take the scissors, and cut my hair short enough that I didn’t have to think about it.
My whole high school life, people called me Liz the Lez, Lezzy Liz, or some other stupid nickname that rhymed with Liz. In school, I had one friend; her name was Cassy, and when she moved senior year, I was on my own. Tim had gone off to Seattle to school, and my mom was working part time at a bar. When she wasn’t working, she was sleeping. I think that was one of the worst years of my life. Then on graduation day, when I walked across the stage, I looked down and saw my mom. She was looking at me, her eyes blood shot, and I could see regret written all over her face. After graduation, we went home; she ordered pizza and made me a cake. We pigged out, and she told me that she was sorry for not being there for me, but that she would make it up to me every day from then on. She stuck to her promise, and I truly couldn’t ask for a better mom. She helped me find myself, while finding out who she was without my dad.