Page 213 of Rock Me All Night
"And you bullshitted me." He leans closer. "I'm giving you another chance."
"Then give me a drink because I'm not answering."
He rubs my forearm with his thumb. "Do you want to work at your mom's company?"
That heaviness floods my body. It's all wrong. My shoulders tense. A crick develops in my neck.
"Do you want to work at her company?"
"No." I let out a deep exhale. "I don't."
And, suddenly, all that heaviness and tension is gone. I don't want to work with my mom. I don't want to do business. I've never admitted it before, not out loud, not even to myself.
I want to go to grad school.
I want to teach English.
My breath is steady. No tension in my chest. Nothing too heavy or too light. I'm okay. I admitted I don't want to work with my mom and it didn't destroy me.
I'm okay.
But that doesn't make it possible.
I bring my gaze back to Drew. His expression is softer. Sweet even. He plays with my ponytail.
"I'm proud of you." he says.
"I can't do this," I say. "She pays for my school. My rent. She puts money in my account every month. It's all contingent on me following her plan."
"You know what I think?" he asks.
"You think that you know better than I do."
He shakes his head. "You deny yourself the things you want."
"When have I ever done that?"
He cocks a brow. It's like he's daring me to think about it. I'm not stupid. I see this is still about sex, but Drew doesn't have a clue what he's talking about.
That's not how it is.
"I did the same thing," he says. "Went to Stanford to please my parents, even though the only thing I ever wanted was my hands on a guitar. Didn't do any good. When I dropped out to focus on the band, they cut contact. My dad got over it eventually. Mom didn't."
"You want to talk about it?'
"No. Fuck them if they won't support what I want." He runs his fingertips along my neck. "Fuck anyone who denies you what you want."
I lean back against the car. My shirt must be filthy by now, but it doesn't concern me.
Drew's fingertips brush against my left wrist. Just above my silver watch. I pull my hand to my chest and hold it there. He looks at me funny, but he doesn't call me on it.
"This is an amazing accomplishment," he says. "Whatever you decide to do."
"Thank you."
"We're going to celebrate."
I turn to face him. "How?"
He smiles. "I'm making you dinner."
"You cook?"
He shakes his head,tsk tsk. "I'm an excellent cook."
"Right."
"You're going to eat those words, Kendrick." He slides his hand into the pocket of my denim skirt and pulls out my keys. "Of course you'll be so full from my delicious cooking that you'll have no room for the words."
I nod, uh-huh, but truth be told, I'm still stuck on the feeling of Drew's hand in my pocket.
