Page 4 of Shane

Shane raises an eyebrow. “We seem to only be friends when she comes to my games or my parties or… my house. You know, when it’s convenient for her.”

“What does that mean?” I snap, knowing exactly what he’s insinuating. “There’s always some sarcastic undercurrent to everything you say. I go to the VCU Sun’s hockey games, not justyours.”

“And the parties?”

“You make me go!”

“You forced her to go to a party, Shane?” His mother asks in disbelief.

“I can’t imagine that I could force Kennedy to do anything she didn’t want to do,” he responds. “The two of us like to make bets sometimes, and she lost the last one. That’s why she came to the most recent party. You’d have to ask her why shecameto all the others.”

He makes sure to enunciate the word came.

Asshole.

I despise him.

“That’s only half the story!” I protest. “The truth is that we are not friends, and we never will be. You’re like a pesky tick that is leeching onto me and invading my family, sucking the blood out of us!”

“Kennedy!” my father protests.

“You should definitely be in the theater department, not the business school.” Shane crosses his arms, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. “I’m not invading anything, and by the way, our parents didn’t just meet. They’ve been dating for years, and now they’re getting married. So what? Get over it. What’s it going to change?” he challenges, and I know exactly what he’s alluding to.

I just pretend that I don’t.

I’m good at that.

“Shane Sullivan, watch your tone. And I told you to look out for Kennedy and get to know her, not harass her.”

“Look out for me?” I scoff. “Do you really think I want to go on campus every day and chat it up with the one person who is a constant reminder of the bullshit going on in here?”

“Sit down, Kennedy Bing,” my father orders in a voice I haven’t heard him use with me since I was nine years old, so I take my seat. “What’sgoing on hereis that two people have made an adult decision to share their lives together,” he continues. “I understand you don’t care much for change, and I knew this would be difficult for you to hear, but I never imagined you’d be this emotional about it.”

“Dad–”

He raises a hand to quiet me.

“It’s Christmas. Kate is a guest in this house, and she and Shane will soon be members of this family. Our family. So I warn you, please don’t say anything else you’ll regret tonight because I promise it won’t play out the way you expect.”

Wow.

My father’s harsh words slice at my heart like shards of glass. He just made it clear, in front of everyone (Shane), that if he had to make a choice, it would be Shane’s mother.

It has never been me.

It never is.

If I sit at this table any longer, I’m afraid that I will cry and embarrass myself more than I already have, but if I leave, I may enrage my father even more than he already is. Thankfully, I get a pardon.

“You may be excused,” he tells me. “I think you need some time to reflect on your attitude.”

There are tears in Shane’s mother’s eyes, practically mirroring what my own must look like, and the weight of how I’ve reacted tonight is becoming much clearer. Maybe I’m not as mature as I like to think I am but dammit, this all really hurts. More than I could ever explain to my dad.

I’ve done filthy things with the boy who will become my stepbrother when he marries Kate.

Delicious, unforgettable, filthy fucking things.

I close the door to my room and think about calling my mom because she’s the only voice I want to hear, but that would be selfish. Why should I ruin her holiday by telling her about this? And if I’m honest with myself, I’m pretty sure she’s sick of talking about it with me and just wants to move on.

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