Chapter 19 #2
Dad was going to be so mad at me. I knew he’d already be annoyed that he had to drive back into town from Chicago during a workday to deal with my dramatics, and when he walked in, I saw the irritation all over his face.
My father never said much with words, but he said everything with his jagged facial expressions.
Principal Keefe explained that it was unclear how the fight had begun, saying all he knew was that it had ended with teachers getting involved.
“Now, normally, we’d have to look at a short suspension, but since Landon is the lead in the school play that’s premiering soon .
. .” Principal Keefe’s words trailed off, and he shifted some papers around.
Our school was known for two things: basketball and the arts.
The idea of the theater department losing their dear Romeo for a few days was too much for Principal Keefe’s heart.
“Also, we think him having the after-school activity has been good for him. Even though he had this slipup, we are hoping it is a one-time offense. He and Reggie have also been advised to keep their distance from each other.”
No problem there on my end.
Dad looked surprised to hear about me being in the show. I’d never shown any interest in the performing arts, and well, we didn’t ever talk about it. His brow knitted, and he apologized on my behalf for me being completely reckless.
We walked out of the office, and Dad grumbled to himself.
I slung my backpack onto my shoulder and shrugged slightly. “I’m sorry they had to call you out here. It wasn’t even that serious.”
“You bashed a person’s face in, Landon. That’s serious.”
“Yeah, but—”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “I can’t do this right now. I can’t handle your antics. And what is this about a school play?”
“I just . . .” I took a deep breath and gripped my backpack strap. “I really like it, Dad, this theater thing. I’ve been thinking about going to school for acting in the fall.”
He huffed and shook his head. “Yeah, all right, Landon.”
“I’m serious, Dad. It’s something I’m really interested in, and UOC has a pretty good theater department and—”
He cut me off. “I forbid you.”
“What?”
“I said I forbid you. I am not going to pay for an idiotic major just for you to waste your time and my money. I forbid it. You’re going into law, like we’ve already determined.”
“We didn’t determine it. You did. Dad, I—”
He wasn’t listening. He never listened. My words were pointless.
At least Mom would’ve listened. She always listened whenever she was around.
He glanced at his watch. “I don’t have time for this. I need to get back to Chicago and try to play catch-up for today, which means I’ll probably have to go in this Saturday too. And just a heads-up, I’ll probably be busy the following weekend, too.”
“The following weekend?” I stood up, alert. “But that’s my birthday weekend. I figured you’d be home, seeing as how Mom won’t be.”
“Yeah, I thought the same—until you went around swinging your fists like a wild man. You say you’re serious about this theater crap, but you can’t even act mature enough to stop using your fist to solve your problems. The only kind of acting you need to do is acting your age.
You’re not a kid anymore. Stop acting like one. We’ll talk about this later.”
We wouldn’t, though. It would be brushed under the rug like every argument we’d ever had. Dad would fall back into his work world, and I’d fall back into my mind, and we’d deal with our issues on our own.
I missed Mom.
He walked off, leaving me standing there like a dumbass, fully in my feelings about him not being there for me on my birthday. I needed him. I needed him more than ever that day, and he wasn’t going to be there for me.
Perfect.
I started walking toward the exit after Dad left. My mind was already too messed up about my birthday, and there was no way I was going to sit through American History and talk about dead dudes when I had my own mind haunting me on the daily.
“Where are you going?” a voice said as I pushed the door open. I turned to see Shay standing there with the same concerned look she’d had when Mr. Thymes was dragging me away.
“Anywhere but here,” I pushed out. I didn’t feel like talking. I didn’t feel like being around people, especially Shay. I didn’t want her to see me at one of my lows. She’d already seen that enough.
“OK,” she replied, walking over and pushing the door open.
I cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving with you.”
She said it so matter-of-factly, as if it was common sense. If I was leaving, of course she was going, too. Obviously.
“No, you’re not. You aren’t the type of person to ditch school,” I replied.
“Well, that’s changing today. Come on, we can go to my place. No one’s home right now, and I can help clean up your face.”
“Look, Shay, I don’t want to be dramatic—”
“Then don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t be dramatic. Just let me do this today, Landon. I’m sure you were going to go home to your empty house and sit around on your own and be sad, and sure, you can do that later, but right now you shouldn’t be alone. So come on.”
She began walking away, and she gave me no choice. Besides, a part of me knew that wherever she led, I wanted to follow.
We went to my car, and I handed her the keys to drive. My mind wasn’t able to focus enough on the road, and I knew the keys would be safest in her grip.
That was until she got behind the wheel and started jerking it back and forth like a psychopath.
“Geez, Chick, I can do without the heart attack.”
“Well, you should drive an automatic car like a regular person, not a stick.”
I sat up in my seat as my eyes widened in horror. “You don’t know how to drive stick?!” I blurted out.
“No.” She shrugged. “I figured it couldn’t be that different.”
Jerk. Stop. Jerk. Ohmygoshwearegoingtodie.
“Pull the car over!”
“But—”
“Shannon Sofia! Pull the car over now!” I hollered, making her eyes go wide, like they were going to shoot out of her face, and she quickly pulled over.
“OK, OK, sheesh. You’re sounding so much like my grandmother right now. I’m getting out!”
“Good.”
We switched seats, and I tried my best to clear my thoughts to focus on getting us to Shay’s safely.
“How did you know my middle name?” she asked softly, looking my way.
I rubbed my thumb against my nose and tried to think of a way to not sound like a complete nerd. “When you used to come over to my place with your grandmother as a kid, she yelled it at you once. It’s just something that stuck in my head.”
Along with every detail about her since the first day I saw her.
I could feel her eyes on me, and I wished I could read her mind. I wished I knew how her thoughts worked. I wished I could understand her the way she was so effortlessly good at understanding me.
When we got to her house, she led me straight to her bedroom, not even giving me time to look around, and sat me down on the bed. “Let me get a warm rag for your eye. I’ll be right back,” she said.
I looked around her room. Her walls were covered in movie script pages and posters of actors and actresses.
She had a bookshelf filled with notebooks, and I’d have bet she’d fill every single one out to the very last page.
Words came easy to her. I didn’t have enough thoughts to fill up one notebook, let alone dozens.
Shay came back with the warm towel and placed it against my face. I cringed a little but welcomed the warmth.
“You used to fight a lot before,” she whispered, gently dabbing my cheek. “When you were younger.”
“Yeah.”
“People probably always thought you were this beast or something, but you only fought people who bullied others . . . at least that’s what I noticed.”
“You noticed my fights?”
“I noticed your everything,” she confessed, and that frozen heart of mine began to thaw. That happened a lot when she was around. “Greyson told me what you did for him today. That was very brave of you.”
“It was stupid. I could’ve lost my spot in the school play. I could’ve jeopardized graduating.”
“Yeah, it was stupid, but stupid things can still be brave things.” She exhaled slowly and sat back on her heels. She stared at me with those eyes again, and my heart? A puddle.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I just . . . you just . . . you’re nothing like the person I’ve spent years building you up to be in my head.”
“I think the same about you, more each day.”
“If you had to choose one word to describe me, what word would you choose?” she asked, and that was the easiest question ever.
“Good.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Good? That’s it?”
“Yes. Good. You’re good to everyone on so many levels, even people who don’t deserve it, like me.
You take the time to look deeper into people and see things from different sides.
You’re patient, too. That would be my second word for you.
You don’t rush people to be what you think they should be. You just let them exist.”
“Wow . . .” She held her hand to her chest. “That’s the nicest thing an enemy has ever said to me,” she joked.
I snickered.
Not your enemy, Chick. Never your enemy.
“What about me? What’s my word?” I asked.
“Good,” she repeated.
“Copycat.”
“Maybe, but it’s true.”
I rolled my shoulders back. “I’ve been called a lot of things before, but good hasn’t been one of them.” I glanced over to her bookcase, which was filled with her notebooks. “Are all of those used?”
“Yes. They are all my character portfolios I make of people I know. It helps me craft characters for my stories.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are there any about me?”
She blushed. “Maybe a few.”
“Can I read them?”
She laughed. “Definitely not. Can I tell you a secret?”
“Shoot.”
“I don’t think we hate each other anymore.” She inched closer to me, moving her lips gently against mine. Her inhales became mine, and my exhales belonged to her. “What do you think?”
I think I love you . . .
My lips parted, and I swept them against hers. “I think—”
She cut me off by kissing me hard. Her tongue slid into my mouth, and I placed my hands beneath her ass and lifted her up into my arms. She wrapped herself around me, and our kiss deepened. I swore I could spend forever against her lips and never get sick of her taste.
Some of my favorite moments in the world were when her lips were pressed against mine. Her kisses often tasted like the banana Laffy Taffy candies she was always popping into her mouth.
My God, I loved her sweet kisses. I loved the way her tongue swept against my bottom lip before she parted her mouth so I could get a deeper taste.
I loved the way her hands fell to my chest as mine cruised down her lower back.
I loved how she moaned ever so lightly against my lips.
I loved the way her spine curved in my direction.
I pulled back and looked at her. I wanted more. I wanted to taste her, explore her. I wanted to feed on her body and her soul.
“Can I . . . ?” I nervously asked like a damn inexperienced fool, but I didn’t even care. If I was going to be a fool, it was going to be for her.
“Yes.” She nodded, moving from my lap to lying on her bed.
I loved undressing her, watching as her eyes dilated from anticipation.
I loved how she craved me taking control, but dammit, I loved it even more when she ruled me.
I loved how she trembled at my touch but her eyes told me to keep going.
I loved how my hands trembled against her skin but my heart told me to keep going . . .
Keep feeling . . .
I loved it when I parted her legs and went down on her and she moaned in pleasure.
I loved it when I began to rise up to kiss her lips and she told me no, and then I lowered back down to finish my favorite meal.
I loved it when she arched her hips up as my tongue fucked her clit.
I loved how she told me to go harder and deeper as my tongue lapped repeatedly against her core.
I loved her taste. The wetness felt like a reward I received from her being pleased by my job well done.
Then I became addicted to when her moans grew more and more, making me finger fuck her harder and deeper, my tongue rolling in and out of her, sucking against her clit, teasing every single piece of her as her hands stayed tangled in my hair.
“Oh . . . my . . . Land . . . wait . . . yes . . . go . . . slow . . . ohmygosh . . .” she cried out.
I loved it when she begged.
“More, more, more . . .”
I loved that. I loved it so much. I loved . . .
I . . .
Loved . . .
“What’s going on here?” a voice said, breaking us from our dazed trance. I shot my head up to see a grown woman staring my way.
“Mom, hey!” Shay hollered, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around her body. “Oh my gosh, I—you—we—” Her words were jumbled, and I stood up quickly, stunned to see Shay’s mother standing in front of us . . . in Shay’s room . . . seconds after my head was between her daughter’s legs.
Nothing about this situation looked good at all.
“What are you doing here?” Shay nervously asked, holding the blanket tightly around her waist.
Holy shit, Shay’s mother just walked in on me going down on her daughter.
I wanted to die a slow, painful death, and the redness in Shay’s face told me she felt pretty much the same way.
Her mom raised a sharp eyebrow. “Came home from work for lunch. What are you doing here? You should be in school!”
“Sorry, Mrs. Gable. This is my fault, and I—” I tried to explain, but she gestured toward the door.
“Leave.”
I did as she said. What other choice did I have?
I headed home, and I texted Shay when I got back to my place.
Me: You good?
No response. I texted her a dozen more times that night with no responses coming my way. The next day at school, she walked up to me, holding the straps of her backpack, and she smiled.
“Grounded?” I asked.
“Grounded,” she replied.
“Cell taken away?”
“Yup, and internet access.”
That made sense.
“No regrets?” I asked, lowering my brows.
“No regrets.”