Chapter 4 #2
“They have them all the time. In fact, there will be another one later this week, and we want you both to come with us.” She waves an elegant hand and flashes a smile, her teeth straight and white and so disgustingly perfect I want to punch them in and watch them fall out of her mouth.
For whatever reason, she brings out a violent streak in me. “I wanted to be here to greet you.”
“Totally not necessary,” Drew mutters, his fingers digging into my flesh.
This is just so weird. No one seems to like each other, and there’s this undercurrent of electricity flowing between all four of us that’s downright painful.
I saw a bit of affection between Drew and his dad but other than that, everyone’s wary and full of distrust. It’s like they all say stuff but mean something completely different.
Creepy different.
For a fleeting moment, I’m tempted to grab Drew’s hand and drag him out of here. The vibe in this place is that bad.
But I don’t.
“You’re staying in the guesthouse for the week. I had both bedrooms cleaned and made up for the two of you,” his dad is saying, drawing my attention since Adele is trying to interrupt him.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate,” Adele blurts, clamping her lips shut. Her disapproval is clear.
Drew’s dad rolls his eyes. “He’s twenty-freaking-one years old, Adele. Let’s give them a little privacy.”
Huh. So the stepmom doesn’t want us fornicating for fear we’ll be struck dead by some all-knowing God, and the dad is encouraging us to get it on by giving us a private sanctuary to escape to.
This is all just so freaking weird.
“Thanks, Dad. The guesthouse will work out great.” The relief in Drew’s voice is clear, and I must confess, I’m relieved, too. I don’t want to stay in this house with these people. They don’t seem to like me much.
Well, one acts like he might like me too much, and the other hardly wants to look at me at all.
“I’m sure you both need to rest.” Drew’s dad winks at him. Winks at him and then slaps him on the back, sending him a step forward with the force of it, taking me along as well. “Meet us in the breakfast nook by eight a.m. Maria is making her famous omelets.”
They have a cook. I’m totally blown away.
There’s too much money flowing around here, and all three of them seem so miserable or brittle or so damn fake, how can they be happy?
I always believed money could buy me happiness.
I’m counting on that wad of cash sitting in my checking account to make Owen and me happy for at least a solid three months, though I know that’s pushing it.
I’m starting to realize money doesn’t buy happiness at all. And there I go again. I’m another walking, talking cliché.
Drew
The second we walk into the guesthouse, I exhale a huge sigh of relief, thankful to be out of that stifling house where I grew up. I still can’t believe how Adele acted toward me, like a jealous girlfriend ready to sink her claws into Fable. Calling her my little Fable—what the hell?
And my dad blatantly checked her out. It made my skin fucking crawl, and I’m not the one who got the once-over. This is far worse than I thought it would be and I’m embarrassed.
Maybe we should leave. Maybe I should put Fable on a bus and send her back home so I don’t have to subject her to this any longer. It’s awful, and I don’t want to put her through it. I’ll even let her keep the money.
“Your parents are freaks.”
Her sweet voice insulting the people who raised me shocks me so much, I start to laugh. And once I start, I can’t seem to stop. It feels good. When had I last laughed like this? I can’t remember.
“Are you laughing because I’m telling the truth, or because it’s better to laugh than yell at me for knocking your parents?” Fable sounds a little nervous, but I detect amusement in her tone, too.
“You’re brutally honest and I appreciate it,” I finally say once I find my voice again. “And I agree. They are freaks.”
“It was so tense in there. I don’t get it.
” She glances around the guesthouse. With its open floor plan and a wall of windows facing the ocean that’s almost identical to the one in the main house, it’s still impressive, but on a less grand scale.
It’s a lot more comfortable in here; it doesn’t give off that “look but don’t touch” vibe.
“Oh, you have a deck outside. I want to check it out.”
I watch her slip through the living area, heading toward the door, which she unlocks and opens without hesitation. I follow her onto the deck, curious to hear more of her observations on my freaky family.
She’s already leaning against the railing facing the ocean, the wind blowing through her long pale hair.
She reaches into the pocket of her thin black coat and pulls out a single cigarette and a lighter, her expression full of embarrassment.
“I’ve pretty much broken the habit, I swear, but I like to carry a few cigs with me in case of an emergency. ”
“And what happened in there is considered an emergency?”
Fable flashes me a quick smile before she cups her hand around the lighter and flicks it once, twice.
Three times before it finally ignites. The cigarette dangles from between her lips and she brings the lighter to the tip, taking a drag and causing it to light.
“Oh my God, totally.” She blows out a stream of smoke over the railing and the little gray cloud hovers in the darkness before it slowly disappears.
“Your dad…I think he was checking me out.”
“He was,” I agree, my voice low. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” She waves her hand, as if waving away what my dad did.
“I brought you here. Technically it is my fault.”
Another wave of her hand as she dismisses my words. “I don’t look at it that way. I’ll just say this. Next time you bring a fake girlfriend, maybe you should prepare her a little better.”
I chuckle. There’s no way I’m bringing a pretend girlfriend here again. If I had my way, I’d never come back. I don’t care how beautiful this place is. I hate it. This house is like a prison to me.
“Can I ask you a super-personal question?”
A ragged breath escapes me. Girls—more like Fable—and their super-personal questions are going to be the death of me. “Go for it.” I have nothing to hide.
Bullshit. I have so much to hide it scares me.
“Drew…are you gay?”
Holy hell! Why does everyone think this?
Fable
I wait breathlessly for his answer. The air is frigid, the wind whipping around chilling me to my very bones.
I’m blaming the sudden inhalation of nicotine for my way-too-brash question.
I could’ve waited at least a day or two, right?
Hung out with him a bit, gotten some personal time in with him first.
My big fat mouth and my extra-curious brain couldn’t wait one second longer. I had to know. It would make spending all of this time with him for seven long days a lot easier. I wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to make a move on me.
Or worse, secretly wishing he would make a move on me. Wondering what my problem is and why he’s not attracted to me.
Holy crap, he still hasn’t given me an answer!
“Why do you ask?” he finally says, answering a question with a question, which I hate. Owen does that sort of thing to me all the time.
Plus by doing so, Drew’s going to make me rattle off a list of every gay suspicion I have about him. Not that I have many. I only came to the realization that he might be gay on the long-as-hell drive to his parents’ house.
“Well, you said you’ve never really had a girlfriend before.
Your dad is worried about you and your lack of female company.
I’ve never seen you with a girl at the bar, let alone seen you flirt with any—not that I’ve paid any attention,” I made sure to add.
I’m being honest. I haven’t paid too much attention to him, but if my memory serves right, he’s not that much of a player.
“Maybe I haven’t found the right girl yet.”
My heart flares with hope, which is so incredibly stupid I wish I could punch myself in the chest. Yeah, I’m a complete idiot to think I have a chance at being the one for Drew.
The hired one. That’s all I’ll ever be.
“Are you, um, saving yourself?” I force my voice to sound casual, while inside everything has turned to chaos. I’m twenty. He’s at least twenty-one. Is there really a possibility he’s a virgin? I know they’re out there, but I never figured Drew Callahan for one.
His dark chuckle tells me I’m off base, and the relief that sweeps through me is near overwhelming. “I am definitely not a virgin. But it’s…been a while.”
I take a drag off my cigarette. “Why?” Whoops, there I go again! Delving into his personal life when I have no business doing so.
He shrugs, his flannel shirt stretching across his shoulders. Drew has a really fine set of shoulders. “I don’t do relationships. Sex is too—complicated.”
Interesting. I find it far too easy. “Maybe you’re having the wrong kind of sex.”
“Maybe the wrong kind of sex is all you can get.” His strong jaw goes firm and his eyes darken. He’s angry. I know this is all sorts of twisted, but he looks incredibly sexy. His fierce expression alone makes my heart go pitter-patter.
His answer is way too mysterious for me. “Sounds like you’re definitely having the wrong kind of sex.” I try to laugh, flicking the ash of my cigarette over the railing, noticing his undisguised look of disgust.
Drew’s not laughing either. I wonder if I offended him.
The cigarette is because I’m nervous and it sucks that he doesn’t approve, but I can’t help it. I smoked off and on through high school because I thought it was cool and for whatever reason, the summer after I graduated I up and quit cold turkey. For the most part.
But I keep a secret pack on me at all times, like a security blanket, only pulling one out when I’m extremely agitated and I need to calm my nerves.
Like tonight. That introduction to his parents was intense. Normally I go through a pack of smokes in six months. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be smoking a pack a day by the third day of this so-called vacation.
“If my dad saw you right now, he’d flip,” Drew said, drawing me from my thoughts.
I take another drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out and flicking it as far as I can.
Not that it’ll hit the ocean, but I like the image of it, the sizzle and hint of smoke the cig lets off upon hitting the water.
In reality, I’m a common litterbug and I feel like crap, but Drew’s not chastising me. “It’ll be our little secret, right?”
“We’re going to have a ton of secrets between us by the end of the week, huh.” He’s not asking a question, it’s more like a statement, and he’s right.
“Yeah, we are.” I smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. Instead, he turns on his heel and leaves the deck, slipping back into the house, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.
Leaving me all alone in the cold, dark night with my cold, dark thoughts.