Page 94 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

I hadn’t noticed it before. “Has that been there this whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“So, why didn’t you use it to keep your mom out instead of shoving me under the desk?”

He’s reluctant to answer. “We don’t abuse the sign. It’s only used for...days like this.”

What the hell goes on in this house?

He shuts the door, then grabs a T-shirt from his closet before leading me up the stairs to his bed. After he tells me to sit down, he kneels in front of me and pulls off my sneakers.

“Can you put this on?” he asks, handing me the T-shirt.

“Why?”

“What you’re wearing doesn’t look comfortable.”

Keeping my eyes on his, I strip off my denim jacket and sequenced blouse before pulling on his T-shirt. I stand up and shimmy out of my skirt, then sit down again. “Now what? I’m not exactly sure what you want.”

“You. Just you.” He crawls onto the bed, grips me around the waist, and drags me toward him. “Lay here with me,” he says tiredly, his eyes red and heavy. “I haven’t slept in days. My head’s a mess. Just...just keep me here...inthismoment with you. You’re the only one who can do that. Can you just lay with me until I fall asleep?”

I snuggle closer to his chest and hold him tight. “Okay.”

A million questions zip through my mind, but I don’t voice any of them because he asked me not to. He wraps his arms around me, holding onto me like I’m his last lifeline.

Nestling his head in between my neck and shoulder, he inhales slow, steady breaths. “I love the way you smell.”

His hand moves to my hair, tucking a lock behind my ear, and his fingers linger there, gently caressing the spot between my neck and my earlobe. I know he loves my body, but that seems to be his favorite spot because he touches me there constantly.

He must be exhausted because he falls asleep within seconds. I doze off too, waking a few hours later. Without disturbing him too much, I reach for my jacket and take my phone out of the breast pocket. It’s already past five. I send my mother a text to tell her not to pick me up from work. By seven, he’s still asleep, so I send another text, telling her that I don’t know what time I’ll be home, but I’ll explain when I get there.

She replies:It better be a good explanation.

Shit, I am in so much trouble. I try to think of how I can explain that I was in bed with a boy the whole time and make it sound as innocent as it actually is.

He only wakes up hours later and even he seems shocked at the fact that it’s dark outside. Reaching over me, he switches on the bedside lamp. “What time is it?” he asks groggily.

“Eleven.”

“Eleven? Shit, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I thought you needed to sleep.”

“I did.” He rubs both hands down his face. After untangling himself from me, he slowly shifts to the edge of the bed to stand up. “I guess I should take you home.”

“Dylan...about today. Are you just going to take comfort from me without telling me why you need it?”

He presses his fists into the mattress and leans forward to kiss me. “Yeah.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but that response wasn’t it. He’s not in a good mood, so I decide not to argue and save all my questions for another day. We don’t say much on the drive home and the lights are still on when he pulls up in front of my house.

“Oh, boy.” I let out a deflated sigh. “My mom’s up. I think I’m in a lot of trouble.”

“I’ll come in with you. If anyone should be in trouble over what happened today, it should be me.”

I want to protest because he looks like the son of a drug lord today, but I also don’t want to face my mother on my own. He takes my hand as we walk up the porch steps and he opens the door for me to go in first.

She’s sitting at the dining table in her nightrobe, arms crossed over her chest, and she is irate. She nods her head toward the chairs in front of her. “Both of you sit down.”

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