17 - Fallon
~ 17 ~
FALLON
“So your father was an Ohio potato farmer?” Trey asked incredulously.
“Not was, still is,” corrected him. “Why?”
“I dunno,” he said scratching his head. “It’s just… well… you don’t really look like—”
“A farmer’s daughter?”
I winked and went back to working the waffle maker, and the big linesman went back to shoveling eggs into his pretty mouth. He’d offered to wait to eat until everyone got there, but I couldn’t put him through it. He was just too hungry.
“Truth is, I barely got out of New Meadow,” I went on. “My parents begrudgingly sent me to college, when they would’ve preferred I got a job straight out of high school like everyone else in town.”
“New Meadow?” Emerson noted, sipping his coffee.
“Yes.”
“Is it new?”
“No, actually,” I chuckled. “It’s old as fuck.”
“Is there even a meadow?” asked Trey.
“If there was, it’s all dried up,” I replied with a shrug. “The place is terrible. Each year my father’s crop gets a little worse. I’m never going back there.”
Emerson pulled the bacon from the oven, then grabbed a set of tongs. I handed him a plate lined with paper towels, and he got to work.
“If it’s so bad there, why doesn’t your father leave?” asked Emerson.
“Because Linda, my wicked stepmother, won’t let him.”
The room fell silent, except for the beep of the waffle maker. I flipped it open, and used the plastic utensil to pull off the steaming, freshly-cooked waffle. A moment later I was pouring the batter for another one.
“Linda hated me from the jump, like all wicked stepmothers,” I went on. “She had a hook nose, a grating voice… everything but a wart on her chin. I never saw a diploma, but I’m pretty sure she graduated top of her class at wicked stepmother school.”
A silence followed, just long enough to be awkward. I didn’t even have to look up to know they were staring at each other.
“Go ahead,” I sighed. “Ask about my mom.”
“So what about your mom?” Trey inquired, without missing a beat.
“She got bored of her marriage and took off to California,” I said. “Tried to take me with her, but dad wouldn’t let her. She left anyway, though. That’s how desperate she was to get the hell out of that place.”
The pain in my heart was much duller now; not at all as fresh and sharp as it had been when I was ten. It was easier to talk about, easier to explain. Even if it sucked just as much.
“Your mother just up and… left?” Trey asked incredulously.
“Mmm-hmm,” I nodded. “I can’t really blame her for wanting to get out of New Meadow, but what the hell kind of person just leaves their kid behind like that, right?”
Emerson shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself.
“So you haven’t seen her since then?” Trey inquired.
“In the beginning, yeah,” I admitted. “My mother invited me out to Pleasanton all the time. I even went once, when I was thirteen. I thought we’d have fun together, do cool things, but all she did was parade me around her shitty friends and pretend to dote on her ‘loving daughter’. It was all a big show. I was totally embarrassed for her.”
Just then Dalton walked in, carrying the bag of rosemary fried chicken that would complete our breakfast. We weren’t about to fry chicken ourselves. Not when some of the best places in the country were just inside of town.
Trey leapt to his feet, already salivating, as the heavenly smell permeated the air. He took the bag from his friend and began rummaging through it. At the same time, I grabbed Dalton and pulled him out of the kitchen and into the unfinished side pantry. When we were alone in the shadows, I threw myself into his arms and kissed him.
It was a soft kiss, a sweet kiss. But one loaded with the promise of many future kisses to come.
“That was… nice,” he murmured, his mouth breaking into a smile.
“Was it?”
“Sure.”
I pressed my body even more tightly against his. I saw his nostrils flare as he inhaled my scent.
“I mean, I thought maybe you fulfilling your fantasy with us was a one-shot deal,” he went on. “A one time thing.”
“Does it have to be?”
My question was as daring as they came. I asked it nervously, wondering if I went too far.
But Dalton’s face registered pleasant surprise. I had one hand on his stomach now, fingers splayed. I could feel his abdominal muscles, still coiled from his morning workout, quivering through his T-shirt.
“No, no, not at all,” he murmured. “I mean, it can be… well… whatever you want it to be.”
“What if I told you Emerson wants to sleep with me again?”
Dalton paused, and let out a chuckle. “I’d say we could probably arrange that.”
I bit my lip, tilted my head, and squinted adorably. Or at least, in a way I hoped was adorable.
“What if I told you we… kinda already did?”
“Kinda?”
I let out a relenting sigh. “Okay fine. More than kinda.”
“Well…” his chuckle turned into an outright laugh. “That’s different, then.”
A wave of relief crashed over me. Not only did he seem okay with it, there didn’t appear to be any jealousy at all.
“So you’re not mad?”
“No, I’m not mad. Not unless I don’t get another crack at you myself.”
“Oh, you can have all the cracks you want,” I grinned right back at him. Letting my voice go all breathless and husky, I slid my hand even lower. “Crack after crack after crack…”
My eyes flared wickedly as they locked onto his. For a moment we just stared at each other silently, our minds going over the exciting, near-limitless possibilities of what I was proposing.
“So what did you think of your new bedroom?” Dalton asked abruptly.
“My new what?”
“The bedroom at the end of the hall. The one we… you know.”
“Smashed me in?”
He laughed. “Yeah. That.”
Alarms went off in my head, but also in my heart.
“Dalton, I’m signing the lease on a new apartment tomorrow.”
He shrugged as if the answer to that dilemma were obvious. “So? Don’t.”
“Don’t? Don’t what?”
“Don’t sign,” he reiterated. “Stay right here with us, for this semester and the next. That room’s not perfect yet, but we can always work on it. And the best part is it’s all yours. A space of your own.”
I felt confused, touched, even a little choked up. I wanted desperately to hug him.
“You really made it for me? ”
Dalton’s shoulders went up and down. “I mean we’re renovating the whole house anyway, right?” he asked. “All of the rooms?”
“I… I guess so.”
“So consider that we got around to this one sooner, rather than later,” he grinned. “I mean sure, I was tired of that fucking air mattress, and Emerson’s constant snoring. And I’m definitely happy to have my bed back. You’re still welcome in my bed any night you want, by the way.”
He winked. I chuckled.
“But yeah, that room’s all yours now. The bed, the bedding, everything. Hopefully you like it. If not, we can change it out for you. Trey figured you’d want to make your own choices anyway, but Emerson said the thread count—”
“I haven’t really even looked at it,” I admitted. “I mean, I’ve been away for the past two nights. And the one night I did spend there…”
“You barely got any sleep,” he smirked.
Dalton leaned in and kissed me again, slowly grazing my face with the backs of his fingers. The sparks between us were so electric, I could kiss him all day. Right here in the pantry, or back in the kitchen in full view of the others, or even better yet—
“Uhhh… food’s getting cold.”
Trey’s face was red, his voice super awkward. He stood between the two rooms, jerking a thumb forlornly back in the direction of the kitchen.
“Emerson won’t let me eat anything until you guys get back in there, so...”
We laughed together, as Dalton pulled me back in the direction of the kitchen. I stopped to kiss Trey on the way through, right on his very beautiful, very surprised pair of lips.
“W—What’s going on?” he blinked.
“Nothing,” I smiled at him, adding a shrug. “Or everything,” I winked.
Still stuck in the hallway, Trey looked more confused than ever.
“Don’t worry, we’ll talk all about it after breakfast,” I said, patting his cheek consolingly. “But first… we eat.”