Page 70 of Told You So
He chuckles beside me. “Just do it, Bethany. Stretch it out. You know you want to.”
“No, I don’t,” I lie through a smile.
“Just do it. Come on, I’ll do it with you—”
I push him, snorting out a laugh. “Stop being weird.”
He pushes me back. “I’m not being weird, I’m making you laugh. It’s the best part of my day.”
My cheeks flush, and after a long, drawn out, sideways glance, I decide making him smile is the best part of myday, too. With a smirk, I do a quick, awkward lunge, earning me another hearty chuckle, and I revel in the sound.
Thirty-Five
Bethany
After riding, Jesse and I go out for an ice cream before heading home to lock ourselves upstairs in the game room and watch movies all night. My dad’s Jaguar is parked in the garage with no sign that my mom is home, which isn’t surprising.
Exhausted, Jesse and I shuffle up to the front door, my legs so sore, I can’t imagine what tomorrow will be like. “Wait,” I say as Jesse reaches for the doorknob. “Your shoes. Leave them on the tile entry. Mom willfreakif you track horse shit into the house.”
He smiles down at his feet, as if he’s contemplating it.
“You wouldn’t get to drink Squirt for a month, buddy. Your life would be miserable.”
Flinging the door open, I step inside and balance the best I can as I pull off one boot and then the other. My hope to go in and decompress, though, is short-lived.
“Beth,” my dad says, eerily flat from his office. I’ve barely gotten through the front door, and I already have a bad feeling.
“Take off your shoes and head upstairs, J.”
Jesse’s eyes meet mine, his brow furrowed in question. In worry.
Flashing him a reassuring smile, I nod toward the stairs. “Jump in the shower so we can start our movie.”
Finally, he nods and jogs up the stairs. Dropping my purse onto the couch, I make my way through the living room, to my father’s office.
When I step into the doorway, he sets the document in his hand down, pissed or troubled, I’m not sure which, then he rubs his brow. “Did you have fun today?” he asks, but there’s no real curiosity in his question, no inflection or interest at all. He’s upset with me, and I’m damned no matter what I say.
“It was successful.” I decide it’s the safest answer. “Jesse had a blast and learned a lot. Nick was really great with him.” I almost smile at how good the day felt, but any lingering joy diminishes as my dad continues to glare at me.
He leans back in his chair, his eyes not leaving mine. The fact that he’s giving me his full attention is a telltale sign that I should be worried. “How’s your project going?”
“It’s going fine. Why?
His expression is unchanging, and he clasps his hands together in his lap. “I ran into Edward Murray this morning.”
Confused, I shake my head. “Edward Murray...You mean,ProfessorMurray?” I’m not sure how my dad knows my professor, but I’m not that surprised. My dad knows everyone in this community. Benton—Saratoga Falls, it’s like they’re one in the same. I hate it.
“He mentioned you and your final project partner were having some problems.”
“We were, in the beginning, but we’re not anymore.”
“So it seems,” he mutters. “Your mother told me you were working on your project today.”
“We were supposed to, but plans changed. Iwaswith Nick, but we—” The absurdity of the conversation stops me short, and my blood begins to boil. “I’m twenty-three, Dad. I don’t need you micromanaging my school workormy life.”
“No? Well, if history is any indication of the direction thispartnershipof yours is going, you’re only distracting yourself again from what’s important.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I cross my arms over my chest, barely able to contain the annoyance bubbling beneath the surface. He sits there high and mighty, like he knows anything about me, my life, my distractions...
