Page 69 of Sugar Rush
I hadn’t even known he’d been worried about that, losing the relationship he’d had with me if the whole experiment thing had gone south. It was so sweet, in a way I could barely articulate, how he valued me. The urge to tell him everything Ifelt intensified, but I wasn’t even sure if he’d believe me at that point.
“Can’t we just opt out of the whole stupid family get together and stay up here all day?” I complained, my voice muffled against his firm chest.
“I’m sure that wouldn’t raise any suspicions,” he said sarcastically. “And I have to work this afternoon anyway.”
“You’re lucky. I don’t have an escape.”
“Hang in there,” he said, giving the top of my head a condescending little pat. “It’s just one day.”
“Easy for you to say.”
PRETTY MUCH ASsoon as they got to our house, my dad dragged us all out to the backyard so he and my uncle could stare down at the grill and make comments about what was the best frequency to move the meat around on it. The rest of us sat around a picnic table and made small talk, until finally my uncle sauntered over to us and clapped down on my shoulder in a way that was supposed to be congratulatory, but I had to suppress the urge to wince.
“So you’re starting over at OU next month, eh, Jordy?” He asked, and I nodded. “You must be happy he’s not wandering off too far, Chester.”
Both of my cousins were already attending universities out of state. Part of me wanted to drive home the fact that I hadn’t felt the need to leave the state because I actually enjoyed spending time with my family, but I just sipped at the glass of iced tea my mom had made a giant pitcher of.
“Pretty happy, Steven,” my dad confirmed, giving me an affectionate grin before turning back to his precious grill meat. “I sure will miss him during the week, though.”
“During the week?” My uncle repeated the phrase, confused.
“I’m probably going to come home most weekends,” I explained. The talk I’d had with my dad that morning about needing a car for that specific purpose had gone splendidly, and he’d been thrilled about the fact that I’d be spending more time at home than he’d thought.
He scoffed a little, shaking his head. “Boy, you really are different. My kids couldn’t wait to get out and be independent.”
Again, I only sipped.
“Jordy’s independent,” my mom cut in. I glanced over to her with what I hoped was an expression of gratitude on my face. I wasn’t sure if she knew how I felt, but I was pretty sure she probably wasn’t his biggest fan either. “Both the boys are.”
“They make it pretty easy on us,” my dad spoke up in agreement with her.
I guessed he was referring to the fact that neither of us had ever been hooked on drugs, become involved in a gang, gotten knocked up, or knocked anyone up. Or whatever worries kept parents of teenagers up at night. I wondered how well-behaved he would consider us when we eventually had to tell him that we’d been hooking up behind his back. As far as I was aware, I’d never disappointed him before. I hoped he would understand.
“Well…” My uncle trailed off a bit, like he didn’t exactly agree with the statement. “And you’re not in school, right?” He asked, this time directing the question at Kieran. This was something he’d brought up more than once.
“No,” Kieran responded neutrally. I felt my muscles tense as I wondered what was going through his head. I doubted my rude uncle’s opinion held much weight to him, but I knew the whole college degree thing was something he felt insecure about, especially when it came to his position in our relationship. “I work full time.”
“Guess you don’t need a degree for that whole tattoo thing.”
“No,” Kieran acknowledged sarcastically. “They pretty much let any riffraff off the street wander in and pick up a machine.”
My uncle laughed, but in a way that made it clear he was laughing at Kieran, not with him. “Well, you said it, not me.”
“Actually,” I piped up. “Kieran’s been working really hard and getting tons of new clients.”
“Someone paid him to travel up to Oldport last weekend, to do a tattoo on them,” my dad contributed from his sentinel spot in front of the grill. “And it was a pretty penny, too.”
“More people to draw pretty pictures on,” he responded. That dismissive tone made me feel like my blood was itching in my veins.
“Steven,” my aunt said his name with a sort of warning tinge to it, like she was tired of arguments caused by his attitude. I didn’t blame her, but I couldn’t imagine being married to someone so annoying.
“I’m just saying,” he pointed out, raising his hands in a mock innocent gesture. “I wouldn’t want my kid wasting his life like that. And I sure wouldn’t let anyone mooch off me in my house while they do it.”
His kids, my slightly older cousins, were both scrolling on their phones with bored expressions, apparently with nothing to add.
“Nobody’s mooching off anyone,” my dad corrected him. “We’re happy to help the boys however we can. You can raise your kids your way, and we’ll raise ours how we want.”
My dad wasn’t the confrontational type, so even saying that was a lot for him. And it seemed like my uncle got the message, at least for a little bit, while the subject changed to current events.
