A VERY THIN LINE
ANDERS
Four Months Back
Let the record state that I am not talking to Parker Morozov. Not after he kidnapped me, begged me not to fuck Seth, fucking kissed me…and then told me to finish my fucking sandwich. Holy shit. There is something wrong with him. But…like I said…not talking to him.
I don’t care if I’m stuck sitting next to him at the dinner table tonight, sitting so close we keep accidentally brushing elbows…
I don’t care. And I especially don’t care that he keeps checking his phone like he’s expecting someone to text him.
The man is surrounded by all four of his friends…
and I know Bish is off doing fuck all right now, so who the hell is blowing up his phone?
I stab at chicken caesar with tenacity because I am determined to make it everyone’s business that I am not giving Parker Morozov the time of day. I get dragged to Lake Tahoe every fucking summer, and every fucking summer, they enslave me and force me into free, unpaid childcare against my will.
I’m just glad I’m too old for Luca to take my phone away to encourage me to enjoy the “great outdoors.” I’m twenty fucking years old and my main social circle are these two miserable weeks out of the year that consists of my preteen nieces and a herd of gross, slimy toddlers who think I’m their own personal jungle gym.
I’m halfway through my silent protest when Emelie draws me from my stewing thoughts.
“I zoned out,” I mutter. “Sorry.”
“Did you want me to grab you a beer?” She asks. “You look miserable, mon lutin. If you keep scowling you’ll get forehead wrinkles and it’s not a good look for you.”
My mouth pulls into a very slight smile. Just because it’s Emelie and she hasn’t wronged me like Parker has.
Right as I open my mouth to accept her bare-minimum offer, Mr. Sandwich Boss makes a grand gesture. He slides his half-full beer to me and, in a dignified voice, tells me to “go ahead, sweetheart. You can finish it off for me.”
“Je peux avoir ma propre bière?” I fire off to Emelie, sliding the beer back and ignoring him. “The germs,” I explain in English. “Va savoir où il a tra?né sa bouche…”
Emelie laughs, nodding. “Good point.”
A few beats later, Parker leans in close and whispers in my ear. “Tu sais, beaucoup de joueurs de hockey parlent francais…”
Shiver me fucking timbers…
“Alors surveille ce que tu dis.”
“Or what?” I ask pointedly, whispering low enough in his ear that no one else can hear. I swear to God, this is what happens. He gets me worked up because he fucking gets off on it. I’m almost certain.
“You need to stop,” he warns.
I look him up and down before diverting my gaze.
He doesn’t say anything else to me for the rest of dinner, but when it’s time to clear the table, he brushes past me, dragging his hand around the small of my back. And it fucking paralyzes me. That easy. All he has to do is touch me and I turn to fucking putty.
Fine. Whatever. If he thinks he can just…do that…then he’s fucking wrong.
I step out onto the back deck, slamming the sliding door closed a little louder than necessary.
I wait a few seconds before walking down the stairs and across the yard to the long, wooden dock.
There’s a little covered seating area at the end where the boat launch is, but no one usually comes down here because it isn’t child-proof according to Jen.
I feel him before I see him. He comes out ten minutes later, followed by the smell of a lit cigarette and the sweet, melodic voice of my Aunt Jen.
“Anders, sweetheart. The kids have been tearing the house apart looking all over for you,” Jen laughs, coming up from behind with a large glass of red.
I’m surprised it isn’t the actual bottle.
Jen and Emelie are never sober when we’re in Tahoe.
Her red curls and small, dainty nose have always made her look like a fairy, but her loudness immediately draws away all of the poise.
“I’m on my thirty,” I joke weakly, giving her a polite smile. She reaches out and pulls me in for a hug, though she’s significantly shorter than me so it feels like I’m towering over her.
“Parker just told me you’re staying with him for your senior year,” she murmurs, pulling back and automatically fixing my hair like she’s always done.
Then her face softens a bit like she’s suddenly looking at a child instead of a grown ass adult.
She pinches my cheek and grins. “Unless you’d like to come stay with Vince and I.
I know the kids would love to have their Uncle Andy there. ”
“If Park acts up, you’ll be the first person I’ll call.”
She gives me a knowing look. “Good. Maybe it’ll be good for him.”
Parker lets out an annoyed scoff, folding his arms across his chest. “You see what I’m talking about? Em has him programmed to be mean to me.”
And then her husband calls out for her back up at the house, his voice not so melodic. “Jen, babe. The baby…”
Jen rolls her eyes, patting me on my shoulder once before sighing. “I’m getting a nanny.” She walks off a moment later, leaving Parker and I alone.
It feels like I’m trapped in the middle of some romcom where the main character is always in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When he leans over the railing beside me, he takes a drag of his cigarette before offering it to me. I scrunch my nose and take a step away from him.
He knows I don’t like the smell of cigarettes, but I don’t think he fully knows why. Hell…it’s not like I even remember what happened. All I know is that the smell of cigarettes sets a warning bell off inside of me.
I have an old-faded scar on my left shoulder blade that’s small and circular. There’s a few others…
“Put it out,” I mutter plainly.
“What’s wrong?” Parker taunts, closing the gap between us. He burns the butt of the cigarette on the wood railing before flicking it into the water like the piece of shit he is. “You’ve been in a bad mood since we got here.”
“Go back inside,” I tell him.
“Hey,” he murmurs a little softer now, nudging me with his elbow. “Are you mad at me?”
“No…”
He huffs. “Then talk to me.”
“I’m talking right now.”
Parker exhales sharply through his nose. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever.”
“You have to understand—”
I turn to look at him, and I immediately regret it. My body stalls…he’s standing so close…there’s a certain look in his eyes that shouldn’t excite me as much as it does. “I don’t want to hear it,” I tell him. “You kissed me. It was a mistake.”
He just looks at me for a moment, biting down on his bottom lip and nodding like he’s finally able to make peace with it. “Okay.”
Neither of us talk for a few minutes. We both just stare out onto the lake, listening to the sound of the cicadas buzzing and the water lapping softly against the old wooden beams of the dock.
I don’t know why he does it. There’s absolutely no reason to…but Parker runs a finger along the side of my head, tucking a curl behind my ear, as if he can just touch me like that.
“Stop,” I warn him. “Not in the mood.”
“I just…” He pauses for a moment before sighing like he’s in pain. “Whatever happened to the Anders who jumped at the opportunity to steal my beer?”
Is he joking? “You have got to be—”
And then his expression sharpens almost instantly. “No, seriously. What the fuck was that earlier? Saying shit to Emelie—you don’t think that looks weird?”
“I haven’t told anybody—”
“That’s not the point,” Parker argues. “That little scene in there was childish—”
“Dude, just go,” I groan, glaring at him. “Don’t stand here and call me fucking childish. You kissed me, Parker. So what? It’s not like I’m giving you any shit for it.” It’s almost as if he’s worried I’m going to run and tell on him.
“Don’t tell me to go,” he mutters, lowering his voice a little. For some reason, it gives me the chills.
“Don’t call me childish.”
“Then don’t—” he grabs me by the chin and forces me to look at him. My lips part in surprise. “Don’t do childish things.”
But suddenly I’m trapped in some sort of death stare.
His eyes peer down to mine, darkened with a kind of hunger that scares the hell out of me.
He flickers his gaze down to my lips. “Parker—” I turn my head away, but he holds me in place.
“Petchka, stop.” My words just go in one ear and out the other.
He has his sight set on me with a steely kind of deliberation that makes me swallow hard.
“Have you…gotten rid of him?” He asks softly. But there’s a question very obviously hidden underneath it. How easy is it to get Anders to listen to me? He isn’t subtle in the slightest.
“No,” I huff. “He’s my friend…and it’s none of your business. Nothing about my personal life is any of your fucking business.”
And he’s confusing the fuck out of me…which shouldn’t be happening because I shouldn’t even be talking to him right now.
I don’t even know why the hell he’s trying to start something with me because the last I heard from him was when he was dropping me off at my dorm like he was done playing with me for the day.
It’s not like he doesn’t know. He knows. Parker doesn’t do anything without thinking about it first. I bet he’s been planning this little conversation in his head all day.
“You told me you wouldn’t see him.”
“None of your business.”
“You promised me—”
“None of your business—”
“Goddamnit, Anders. Why can’t you just fucking listen to me…one time? When have I ever not had your best intentions in mind?”
I inhale sharply, huffing in a futile attempt to calm myself down, but he’s really setting me off right now and Parker knows exactly which weak spots to hit.
“Why do you care?” I challenge. “Why does it matter who I sleep with?” He opens his mouth to spew some bullshit lie, but I cut him off. “Does Luca know about this?”
And that shuts him up real quick, because I know his weak spots, too.
“Am I your dirty little secret?” I taunt, narrowing my eyes. “Does it make you feel good when you kiss me and tell me nice things before taking them all back?”
He drops his hand and steps away, but I take a step, too.