Page 114 of Don't Make Me Beg
I’ve loved her since I was twelve years old. I remember the day I realized it. My parents had planned to bring us to the lake for the Fourth of July, and we’d finally convinced Scout’s parents to let her go. We had the whole day planned out. We’d take turns riding on the inner tube, I’d teach her the best way to hold on, and I couldn’t wait to have an excuse to touch her. I was going to teach her how to wakeboard, even made Jett take me out there to perfect my barrel roll just to impress her.
But as we were packing the car that morning, it started raining harder than it had all year.
With no break in the rain in sight, we had no choice but to cancel our lake day. I was devastated.
I was in my room sulking, feeling sorry for myself over something that was completely out of everyone’s control, when I heard tapping on my window. That’s where I found Scout, her wide hazel eyes full of excitement, holding a stack of her favorite horror films.
My mom must’ve known I needed cheering up, so she and Scout set up a whole scary movie marathon. We turned out all the lights and made a big pallet of blankets on the floor. We had pizza for dinner and ate our weight in popcorn and sour candy while we watched a marathon of scary movies.
I hated every second of the movies, but seeing the way Scout lit up as she watched them, the excitement in her eyes as our hearts raced from fear, the way she laughed at the most inappropriate parts. It was all it took for me to fall head over heels. From that moment on, I knew I’d pick rainy days over sunshine, watch nothing but scary movies for the rest of my life—just to see her smile. It’s only now, looking back, that I understand why.
Rain cancels plans. And for someone whose entire life was scheduled out for her, full of obligations she never asked for, rainy days meant freedom.
She may not realize it yet, but I’ve spent the last few months trying to build her a life she doesn’t need freedom from.
And while I can’t say for sure… she does seem happier.
“Ugh, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” Scout mumbles from the kitchen. She’s been practicing her baking skills, Lucy’s been giving her a few pointers, and judging by the smell coming from the kitchen, it seems like tonight her chocolate chip cookies arewell done.
I walk up behind her, massaging her shoulders as I sneak a peek at the dark brown cookies. Yeah, they’re extra crispy, all right. “Nah, babe. These look great.” I reach over her, lifting a scalding hot cookie and popping it in my mouth. There’s a distinct crunch as I chew that soaks up all my saliva, and I have to take a gulp of water to help me swallow.
“They’re terrible and you know it. I can’t serve these to your family tonight.” She picks up the tray of cookies and heads to the trash can, but I stop her before she can throw them away.
“No way. They’re great. We’ll just make sure to serve everyone a glass of milk to dip them in. It’ll be fine.” I take the tray from her and slide the cookies onto a plate, then cover them with a tea towel. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.” I don’t wait for her to protest as I lead her outside.
Family dinner at my parents’ house used to be something I did out of obligation, but in these last few weeks, it’s become something I actually look forward to. Scout and my mom have always been close, but after everything went down with her parents, I think my family’s been good for her.
Despite my mom getting her feelings hurt, they’ve welcomed her back with open arms, as if nothing ever happened. I owe them for that, so I’ll go to every family dinner my mom invites us to with a smile on my face if that’s what makes my girl happy.
“Aw, you baked cookies,” my mom says as she opens the door to greet us, pulling Scout into a hug. “These look delicious.” She takes the plate and leads her to the dining room.
“Fuck me, I guess,” I mutter under my breath as I follow behind them.
“What was that?” My dad asks, looking up from the digital poker game he’s trying to hide under the table. I swear, ever since his retirement, he’s turned into an iPad kid.
“Frank, the kids are all here now, you need to put the game away and have a little social interaction,” my mom says, her eyes darting down to the iPad in my dad’s lap. She rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. “I swear he’s worse than a teenager with that thing.”
“You can always give him screen time. I’ll help you set it up if you want,” I suggest.
“That would be great, Luka. Thank you,” Mom says, cutting her eyes to my dad.
“That’s hardly necessary,” my dad says, standing up from the table, and he puts the iPad in the top drawer of the sideboard,where all the food sits hot and ready to be served. “Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining last weekend when I left you alone most of the afternoon.”
My mom twists her lips and shrugs. “It was nice having some uninterrupted reading time.”
When she turns to set the platters of food on the table, my dad sticks out his tongue, then jumps up to help her.
Scout snorts a laugh, using her napkin to hide her smile as my mom takes her seat.
We fall into conversation as Guy fills us in on his latest shenanigans and asks my dad’s opinion about a new venture he’s thinking of starting. Roman updates us on his life, which is mostly work-centered, and Jett even tells us he’s thinking about making Friday night trivia a permanent addition to the schedule.
It’s a rare occurrence that everyone’s here, apart from Leo and Ivy, but I can’t help but feel like Scout was always supposed to be a part of this family. She fits into our lives so well.
Scout’s telling everyone about my freakout after she was stung by the bee, how the next day I had a privacy tent built around the mural, so she didn’t have to deal with everyone’s commentary anymore. I’m just mad I didn’t think of it sooner. It’s been a hell of a lot quieter since, not to mention cooler. It was well worth the hefty price tag it cost to have it custom-built, especially on such short notice.
“Well, I’m glad, I can’t imagine how distracting that must be for you…” My mom starts, but my attention is pulled away when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I don’t have to look to know who it is, and I can’t risk leaving him unanswered, not after what happened when I ignored him last time.
