Page 17 of The Crush
“You’re coming?”
“Yeah, thought I might.” I give up trying to straighten my tie, my hands too busy shaking like I’m on my way to the goddamn prom. I turn, fidgeting instead with the buttons at my wrists. “That all right?”
“Of course,” he says, still sounding caught off guard. “‘Course it is.”
I’m hoping that will be the end of it. That he won’t pry into thewhybehind my sudden change of heart since I can’t exactly tell him that it’s because a pair of brown eyes had looked upset at the idea of having to go back home.
I am so fucked. Have been for a few months now. And yet…I can’t get myself to pull away. Not yet. I know I need to, but…not yet.
If I could have some time with her without the threat of someone realizing we’re gone, that would be enough. To take the edge off. To start thinking clearly again. To fully realize that I am currently fucking the daughter of my parents’ best friends and have been as often as she’ll let me since the day of that damn party.
Dangerous ground for her and for me. Ready to give way at any time, and maybe that time is now since my dad does not appear to be letting my surprise acceptance of a four-month-old dinner invite slide so easily.
Instead, he steps into my room, looking around as if it’s his first time in here. Or as if he’s trying to see what else has changed. When he sees the boxes still in the corner, he stares at them for a moment longer than normal before moving on.
“Well, nice that you’re coming. I’m sure everyone will be happy to see you.”
I nod, dodging his stare by ducking into my closet for a nicer pair of shoes. “Figured if I don’t go soon then Eva might come drag me out.”
“Maybe not just her.”
My head comes up so fast that I smack it on the shelf in my closet, the resounding crack echoing through my room before I squint back at my dad.
He tucks his tongue in his cheek. “You need an ice pack?”
“No.” My fingers massage the sore spot. “Must have forgot how low that thing is.”
“Must have.” He takes a step back toward the door. “Well, as I was saying, I know you’ve been able to get to see the boys now and again when they come over to help with things, but it’ll be nice for you to spend some time with Eva. And with Isa, I suppose.”
“Yeah, guess it will,” I reply, hoping to appear noncommittal even though my whole body has a fucking Pavlovian response to the sound of her name. I amsofucked.
“Noticed you don’t hang around much when she comes over on Wednesdays,” he adds, fixing me with that all-seeing eye of his.
I sit on the side of my bed, bending down to pull on my shoes, and shrug. “Guess I don’t see a need to.”
Mainly because my continued absence on those nights has seemed safer. But also because not long after she leaves I tend to sneak her back in through my window and test whether or not we make it to my bed before I’m making her come.
I love how fucking sensitive she is. The way she responds when I touch her. The way she looks at me. The way she always seems to want me.
“I thought maybe you’d taken what I said to heart,” my dad tells me, still standing a few feet inside my door. “After that night in the kitchen.”
“Right. That, too.”
There’s a long pause, both of us waiting too long to speak until he finally claps his hands together and walks back out. “I’ll see you in the truck. Come out when you’ve…got yourself together.”
I am so completely, utterly, fucked.
Fifteen
Isabel
“Mija, how was church group?”
My face goes hot at my mother’s question and I nearly drop the napkin I’m folding at the kitchen counter. “Oh, good. We, um, prayed a lot.”Jesus, that’s the best I’ve got?
“Hm.” My mother’s high heels click across the tile floor as she comes closer, cupping the side of my face with her hand. “You look tired.”
“Thanks. Exactly what I want to hear.”
