Chapter 31
THE VERBAL DIARRHEA MATCH
Maverick
Tonight, more than any other night, I wish I hadn’t driven in with Kody and Quinn, because then I’d have an escape route that isn’t sitting in my dad’s truck, fielding twenty questions. I try to climb into the back seat, but my mom elbows me out of the way.
“Oh, hell no. You’re sitting up front with the human time bomb.” She gives me a look and holds out her hand. I give her mine, and she hoists herself into the back seat, shimmying over until she’s in the middle of the bench while I climb into the front passenger seat.
“Are you trying to sleep your way to a degree?” she asks.
“No, Mom. And most of my professors are old dudes. There’s no way I would sleep with any of them.”
“Are you an escort, then? Is that what’s going on? Are you pimping yourself out like . . . like . . . one of those pool boys?”
“What?”
“Kids do it all the time in university. They get a sugar daddy, or mommy, who pays for all their things in university! Tuition, clothes, boob jobs, which obviously you don’t need because you don’t have boobs—but that’s not the point!
We have literally millions of dollars. You do not need to sell your body for money! ”
“How do you know that’s what girls do in university?” Dad asks.
I give my dad a look. “Leave it to you to get all territorial about Mom thirty years after the fact. You didn’t even know Mom back then. So what if she had a sugar daddy?” If I can defend my mom, I might get her to calm down.
She makes a gagging sound. “I never had a sugar daddy in university! As if I wanted to sleep with guys with saggy balls before I had the saggy boobs to match! But I had friends who did it.”
“Friends, huh?” Dad arches a brow and glances at her in the rearview mirror.
“Focus, Alex! We’re talking about our son and what happened in that parking lot.” She points at me.
“I’m not an escort, Mom. I don’t have time to fake-date people.”
“She’s a professor! How old is she?”
“She’s not even thirty. It’s not a big deal.”
“What does that mean? She’s twenty-nine? Professors aren’t that young.”
“She is.”
She slaps the center console. “You are twenty-one years old, Maverick Alexander Waters. You are supposed to be dating nineteen-year-old girls!” My mom’s voice is shrill. Her head is right beside mine, and she’s basically shouting in my ear.
“According to what freaking handbook?” I shift in my seat so I’m looking right at her.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’ve never dated a girl my own age, or younger.
In high school, I dated girls who were at least the year above me, until I became a senior, and then I didn’t have a lot of options.
Having a dick that’s like a third freaking arm scares the fuck out of high school girls, FYI. ”
“He has a point, Vi,” Dad mutters.
“Why are you showing your dick to high school girls? That’s illegal!”
The shrillness isn’t abating.
I hold up a hand. “Calm down. I’m not showing my dick to high school girls.
I’m just saying, when I was in high school, there was no way I was going to lose my virginity with someone who had zero dick experience.
Like I wanted to scar some poor sophomore for life with this thing. ” I point to my crotch.
I wish I could shut the fuck up about this, because it isn’t a conversation I want to have with my parents, but my mouth keeps moving, spouting nonsense. Thanks, Mom.
“You were having sex at fifteen?” My mother looks horrified.
“I was almost sixteen. And I’m a dude. I was basically a walking hormone from the time I got my first boner until . . . well, I still am. The point is, university girls are not my jam. They’re work and drama, and I don’t have time for that shit.”
“Your sister is a university girl, and she’s not drama,” Mom says pointedly.
“Really? Because if I’m remembering correctly, there was a viral picture of Lav on social media last semester wearing a white thong bikini in our backyard, and right before it was taken, she was flirting with the biggest dirtbag on the school hockey team.
It’s a wonder she didn’t get an STI from standing next to him, he’s so dirty. ”
My mom looks scandalized. “Why was Lavender talking to him? And why didn’t you or your brother or your cousins, who I know for a fact are always at your place, do something about it?”
“Since when does Lavender have thong bikinis?” Dad interjects. “And why are you inviting dirtbags to your house when your sister is around? You’re the one who insisted she live with you in the first place!”
I close my eyes a moment. I probably should have left the dirtbag part out.
“A few guys from the team were over, and the dirtbag invited himself. We were all keeping an eye on Lavender.” I turn back to Mom.
“And we didn’t do anything because she was trying to piss Kody off, and it worked since he was the one who turned into a caveman and carried her inside.
Now everything is fucking sunshine and rainbows with those two, so you’re welcome for that. ”
Mom purses her lips.
I cross my arms. “I’m not apologizing for swearing. I’m a grown-ass man.”
“Grown-ass men don’t sleep with other men’s wives!” she shouts.
“Yes, they do! All the damn time.”
“Just because someone else is doing it doesn’t mean you should too,” she fires back.
I suppress an eye roll. “She handed him divorce papers in August, and they’d already been separated for a year. He’s refusing to sign. They’re only still married because he’s a delusional jackass.”
Mom pinches the bridge of her nose. “Do you have mommy issues? Did I screw you up that badly?”
“No, Mom, I don’t have mommy issues. And you didn’t screw me up.”
“I just can’t believe you’re sleeping with your professor.”
So far, my dad hasn’t said much. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. “Was. Past tense. We hooked up in the summer—”
“You hooked up with her in the summer? How in the world did that even happen? You were twenty years old!”
I wish my mom would stop yelling. It’s giving me a headache. I’m also worried she’s going to stress herself out to the point where she either has a panic attack or breaks out in hives.
“It was a hookup, Mom. I didn’t know she was going to be my professor until she started teaching my class.”
“But, but . . .” She flails her hands around. “Are you telling me you didn’t even know each other and you slept together? How did she not know you were a student?”
“Well, Mom, hookups are usually about chemistry and not conversation, so the fact that I was a student didn’t come up.
And neither did the fact that she was a professor.
I’d also like to point out that you and Dad were supposed to be a freaking one-night stand, except Dad is tenacious as fuck, apparently. ”
“What?” Dad frowns. “That’s not true. Your mother had an early flight to catch. And she left her glasses behind, which is the universal sign for I want a repeat.”
“I actually couldn’t find my glasses, and I was trying to get out of there before you woke up,” Mom says. “Maverick, stop trying to divert the conversation. Isn’t it against the law or the rules or whatever to sleep with your professor?”
“It’s not against the law to have sex, even with your professor. And we didn’t start sleeping together again until I wasn’t her student anymore.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.” Her voice drips sarcasm. “I don’t understand what the two of you could possibly have in common.”
“We both read Psychology Today. We like walks on the beach, pina coladas, and getting caught—”
“What if she’s just using you for—for sex!”
“Seriously, Mom? You think this would be the first time I’ve been used for sex?
Half the girls who come to my games are just looking to hook up with a hockey player because they want the notoriety that comes with sleeping with someone who may or may not be headed for the NHL.
And I’m the son of this guy.” I thumb over at my dad.
“He did all those freaking condom endorsements, and I look exactly like him when he was my age. Girls hope if I look like him, I’m packing like him too.
At least until reality hits. Then sometimes they cry, or scream, or run away. ”
Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating about the tears, but I’m trying to make a point here, and I have had a couple of potential partners back out.
“You did ask if I had some kind of disorder,” Dad says to Mom.
This conversation is so fucking weird. We pull into the driveway. My sister’s car is there, but River’s isn’t. I’m guessing he’s at Josiah’s for the night.
“Look, I’m a student for two more weeks, and her contract with the university ends this semester because she’s a visiting professor.”
“And then what? Are you going to openly date her?” Mom sounds aghast at the prospect.
“I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe not. She’s the one who has something to lose, not me. So it really depends on what she wants.”
I hate the turn this conversation has taken.
I don’t want to think about what happens after contract talks.
Nashville is far—farther than I’d like. And who knows if they’ll decide I need time on the farm team first. And Clover’s moving to Pearl Bay once the lease is up on the house in Chicago.
If I was sticking around here, that would be fantastic, but I have no idea where I’ll be next year.
“Would you feel differently if it was six months from now and I was an NHL player, and she wasn’t associated with Hawking?” I ask.
Mom sighs. “But it’s not different. It’s right now. We’re worried about you. Is this why you were so . . . morose over the Christmas holidays? Did you leave early so you could be with her?”
I don’t see the point in lying. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I left early.
” I reach for the door handle. I’m relieved the dinner plan went out the window after Gabriel showed up.
My mom losing her shit on me in the truck is one thing, in a public restaurant is another.
“I gotta put in some hours on the books tonight since exams start next week.”