chapter 18
I ran as quickly as I could. The stupid apple was still in hand. Dad’s wallet in the other. This was bad. Dad would freak. All of his worries, everything I had dismissed, and this had happened.
Like what you see?
Oh my God. He had caught me staring. How long had I stood there, just examining him like some sort of pervert?
And then he’d thought I was stealing? He probably didn’t believe me, was probably pulling on clothes and heading to the security office right now, would describe me, and they’d pull video, and of course Marty and Shaun would recognize me, and of course they would tell Dad, and ohmygodIthinkImgonnavomit.
I stopped in the middle of the hall, breathing hard, my stomach heaving, the damn apple still in my hand, no trash can nearby.
I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, tried to calm my breathing, tried to sort through this in my head.
Dad would know something was wrong. My poker face was terrible.
Once, when I was eleven, I cheated on a math test, a calculator stowed under my notebook.
Dad had known something was up the minute I passed the Scantron over.
But this wasn’t an elementary school test. This was a hundred times worse.
I tried to think of something, a distraction for my father, a lie prepared in case he asked what was wrong.
I came up with nothing, God punishing me for my actions, my deceit given absolutely no backup. I pushed off the wall and took the final steps to the end of the hall, the sun shining brightly through the door’s windows, the world outside oblivious to my demise.
I pushed on the exit bar and stepped into the sunshine, chucking the apple in the trash. At the curb, Dad’s truck idled.
“Got it.” I held up the wallet and slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut and busying myself with the seat belt.
“Where was it?”
“The drawer.” I pulled up my foot, resting my tennis shoe on the seat and busied myself with the laces, tightening them and retying the knot.
“You okay?” He was staring at me; I could feel his eyes, the truck not put in gear, his head turned to me.
“Yeah. Just pissed that I didn’t check—” My sentence was cut off by the ring of his phone, coming loud through the speakers, and I let out a sigh of relief, followed by a moment of panic. Maybe it was the security office.
“Hello?”
The voice that responded was brash and feminine, and I relaxed against the seat, letting our housekeeper’s voice carry my father into distraction, my chance at getting caught dissipating with each of her raised vowels.
Chase Stern. Naked. Staring at me. The deep laugh in his voice when he’d asked if I’d liked what I’d seen.
I dropped my head against the seat, replaying the interaction.
Our misunderstanding over Dad’s wallet. My sprint out the doors.
I hadn’t even introduced myself. Though …
what would I have done? Shook his hand? I couldn’t have, not with all his nakedness right there.
No, it was probably for the best, me leaving when I did.
Before someone else came in. Before he said something else.
I groaned as quietly as I could and turned away, resting my forehead on the glass window.
Talk about ruining me for life.