34. Anthony
thirty-four
anthony
I still can’t believe she did that.
I’ve never had someone stand up for me like that before. Coming from Penelope makes it that much more special. My heart was in my throat, and I’m surprised I was able to swallow it long enough to tell my parents about the changes I’ve made at River Valley in my few months of being there.
I’m watching her wash dishes with my brothers while my dad and I set the table for dessert. She tilts her head back in laughter at something Grant said, then tosses bubbles from the sink in his direction. A pang of envy shoots through me, but then she catches my eye over her shoulder, and the look that lights up her face makes it all go away.
“Why did we have to cover those windows, Ant?” he asks, clapping one hand on my shoulder and following my gaze to the redheaded firecracker wearing his wife’s rubber gloves.
“I told you—the ones at Mom’s old place don’t have shades, and they’re a bitch to cover. I don’t want to be woken up by dive-bombing birds or the sunrise without blinds.”
“Heh.”
My dad lets out a big belly laugh and finishes cutting Penelope’s pumpkin pie.
“What now?” I scoff.
He shakes his head and posts both hands on his hips. Ian chooses that moment to appear, a shit eating grin on his face.
“Nice try, but those windows didn’t even face east, lover boy.”
The doorbell rings, saving me from my nightmare. Ian’s face turns beet red and he scampers off to answer. Two minutes later, we’re greeted by a familiar duo.
“Everyone, this is my neighbor Andi, and her son Dominic. They’re new in town and had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, so I invited them for dessert.”
Andi looks a little nervous, and as soon as Dominic realizes he’s at Thanksgiving dinner with two teachers, he goes full deer in headlights mode.
“Mom. You brought me to Mr. Ellis’s house ? And Ms. Barker is here too?!”
“If it makes you feel any better, my brother is also Mr. Ellis,” I try. It doesn’t work. “We have video games in the living room.”
I hitch my thumb toward the entertainment system, and Grant takes Dominic into the living room while we all introduce ourselves to Andi. It’s terrible, but my first thought is that the attention can be off of me and Pen for a little while.
We gather around the table, which is laid up with pies and cookies and Mom’s famous triple chunk brownies. Andi tells us about moving to Massachusetts for a job after her husband’s sudden passing, but how thankful she is that she moved in next door to my brother, and the hospitality and help he has shown her and her son. Ian just grunts, but I see the blush creeping along his neck.
The seating arrangement ended up with Pen and I beside one another. While Grant is grilling Andi—who, by the way, is taking everything like a champ—Penelope leans over to me.
“So. You wanna tell me why you spent all of Thanksgiving Day patching up windows?”
“No ma’am. Thanks for asking first though.”
She huffs a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes until her gaze ticks up to mine. There is desire there written in fifty different shades, and it takes every ounce of my will power not to drag her to my childhood bedroom and pin her to the wall.
“Do you want to tell where that little show of standing up for me came from?”
Her eyes widen, but instead of diverting, she says, “You deserved it. You deserve to have your successes bragged about. You get to feel proud.”
Annnnnd I’m hard at my parent’s kitchen table. Thank God I’m wearing jeans.
I grunt and slide my chair up to the lip of the table, which puts my knee against Penelope’s. It does absolutely nothing to help the boner situation, especially when she doesn’t move. Especially when she nudges her knee up against mine to be closer to me. I slide my hand over to her knee and squeeze, and the way she squirms in the seat beside me makes it hard to breathe.
We end the night watching football and having a Mario Kart tournament on the old Wii with Dominic—who has since warmed up to spending his Thanksgiving with two teachers. By the time everyone is packing their plates of leftovers to leave, I’m wired on her.
Pen hasn’t left my side all evening. Not since dessert. We sat on the same couch, pressed so close that at one point, when Grant joined us, I had to rest my arm behind her head along the back of the couch, virtually slotting her beneath my arm. She used my thigh to balance on more than one occasion, her fingers inching closer and closer to where my cock was stiff in my jeans. I’m almost glad that we drove separately.
“We are not gonna have to cook for a month,” she laughs when we get home and add our leftovers to the containers we’ve barely made a dent in from Friendsgiving.
She’s lucky I can nod and laugh along with her. I know it’s stilted, because it sounds like I’m underwater in my own head. I want one thing and one thing only.
Her .
But she has to lead. I can’t take the initiative and get shot down, and I also don’t want to pressure her. She told me the other night that she’s protecting her heart first, and I want that for us too. So when she says goodnight and heads to her room, I’m already predicting which visions of her I’m using to jerk off to as soon as I get to my own. I’m halfway down the hall, with my belt already unbuckled, when I hear it.
A tinny tinkling sound.
It’s that damn bell.
My erection pulses. I turn and stalk slowly back toward the living area. Penelope is leaning against the entrance of the hallway that leads to her bedroom, my Boston Tea Party bell dangling from her fingertips.
“You did say to ring this the next time I wanted help, right?”