Page 55 of Never Have I Ever
“Your father… it’s complicated, Grayson. Especially after what happened—” she says, making me flinch a little.
“So, you’re saying it’s my own fault that my father doesn’t love me?” I ask in disbelief. I don’t know why she’s defending him so much. If only she knew that her sweet husband screws his assistants every day. If she only knew how many times the son of a bitch has cheated on her, then maybe she’d be on my side and see what a prick he really is.
“That’s not what I said,” she says, trying to backtrack on the fact she just told me I’m unworthy of my parents’ love because of a mistake.
“That’s exactly what you said.”
“Grayson—” she starts, but I cut her off.
“What more do you want from me?” I ask. “I’m going to college, I’m keeping my grades up, and I’m staying out of trouble, just like you wanted.”
She doesn't speak and doesn't make a sound. We just sit in silence. My words flowing between us. I know no matter what I do, they will never trust me and will always see me as a screw-up. Maybe I am. However, one mistake shouldn't dictate whether I need to earn my parent's love or admiration
“Come home,” she finally says.
I scoff. “New York is the last place I want to go.”
“Grayson, please.” Her voice is low and pleading. I can imagine her frowning on the other end. “I want to see my son. We’ll talk more about this when you come home. Just one weekend. We’ll have a family dinner.”
I can’t even remember a time when we had a family dinner. Family dinner in my house consisted of my father staying long nights in his office and my mother eating alone. I’d grab some fast food and eat in my car.
And now she wants a family dinner. Spare me the theatrics of pretending we’re a happy family. It’s nothing but lies. “Fine,” I agree.
“I love you, Grayson,” she says. “You know that.”
I sigh. “Yeah. I guess.” I hang up the phone and tip my head back onto the headboard.
I love her too. I think. In the unconditional way, as in she’s family. As in, if anything happened to her, I’d be heartbroken. She’s my mother, so of course, I love her. But that doesn’t compare to romantic love, which I know is bullshit.
There is no way you can love someone with everything you have and have it be the same unconditional love you would have for family. You can’t love someone and then sleep with the first girl you see on the street. That isn’t possible.
I just agreed to spend a weekend with my parents. I have no idea what I’ll be walking into or what this dinner even consists of. Will it be just my parents grilling me again? Looking at me like I’m a crazy, deranged person for the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my life? I can’t deal with that again.
Fuck, I need a smoke. I reach for my nightstand for the pack of cigarettes… which isn’t there. Jesus Christ, I don’t have any cigarettes. Because I quit smoking. Who am I?
I can’t believe I quit smoking. At the moment, it was the only option. The only answer, the right answer. But now, I have no idea what I was thinking. I need the chemicals to do their job and calm me the fuck down.
I really need a smoke, but I guess that’s out of the question now. The way she looked when she kissed me hit me in the stomach like a ton of bricks. I want to kiss the living daylights out of her every time I see her, and that won’t be possible if I taste of smoke. I don’t ever want to see that look of disgust on her face again.
And right now, I need to see her. I need to kiss her again. I need to be with her. I can’t take my parents’ bullshit anymore. At this moment, the only thing that I want is to be around her.
I lift off my bed and grab the keys from the top of my dresser and head out of the door.
Ten minutes later, I’m standing outside her door. I should have called first. What if she’s not home, what if she’s out, or what if she’s sleeping? It’s only nine, but what if she’s the type of girl who sleeps really early?
I can’t go back now. I’m here, and I want to see her. I lift my hand and knock on her door, staring back at the grey door, and a minute later, she opens it.
My eyes drift down her body, seeing her pajamas plastered to her body, making me groan. Little blue silk shorts hang from her hips, and a sliver of her stomach pokes out between the shorts and the matching silk tank top. Her nipples are visible beneath the fabric, and I have to swallow. My mouth is so dry at the sight of her.
Her blonde hair is pinned up in a bun, and her face is fresh, without an ounce of makeup. She doesn’t normally wear that much makeup, anyway. Just the subtle pink cheeks and rosy lips. But without any makeup, I can see the little mole on her upper lip.
I want to kiss that mole. It’s so beautiful. She’s so beautiful. Christ.
If she’s wearing pajamas, she must have been getting ready for bed. “Were you sleeping?” I ask.
She shakes her head, opening the door for me to come in. “No, I was watching a movie.” I nod and step into the apartment. I didn't really pay attention to her apartment last time I was here. I was more focused on trying to get the drunk girl in my arms tucked into bed.
Jesus, this girl is loaded. I mean, who am I to talk, but seriously? Her couch is expensive as fuck. My mother has that same couch sitting in our living room, and this chick happens to have a ten-thousand-dollar couch in her off-campus apartment.
