Page 94 of The Naughty List

“You look amazing, yourself, Mrs. Hamilton. How’s Jack doing?”

She releases me and waves a hand through the air as if to say, you know men. “Does Carson know you’re coming home? I just got off the phone with him a few minutes ago. He should be arriving any minute.”

I nod. “He knows.”

She smiles, nudging my shoulder. “That must be the reason for his visit.”

I want to say duh, but I don’t. I just shrug and offer up a smile.

“Well, you better go get freshened up.” She practically shoos me off.

Mom smiles and hands me the keys to the house and my bag of clothes. I let myself in while they stand around and talk. I drop her keys on the table by the door, then walk through the living room; everything still looks exactly the same. I set my bag down and walk over to the Christmas tree, bending down to plug it in. I can smell the pine needles and I smile; Mom still refuses to ever get a fake tree. I stand there for a moment, basking in the glow of the warm lights as I finger one of the ornaments. It’s shaped to look like a snowman with a frame in the center of it. The picture is me at two years old in a giant puffy snowsuit out on the front lawn. I take a moment to look at few of the other ornaments. I wish Mom had waited to decorate the tree until I got home; it was always one of my favorite traditions with her. We’d order pizza, put on Christmas Vacation, and decorate the tree. I sigh, picking up my bag again and heading down the hallway toward my old bedroom.

The door opens easily and when I step inside, I flip on the light. The room smells like fresh laundry so I guess Mom must have washed the bedding. The cream-colored carpet looks soft and clean, but I guess that’s what happens when a room is no longer used on a daily basis anymore. The pink walls are still covered in my posters and pictures I hung years ago. Above my bed is a poster of Mario Lopez. He’s shirtless and flexing while looking directly at the camera. I remember Carson hating that poster when he came to visit from college; the memory makes me laugh.

Carson just stopped by and it’s the first time he’s been here since leaving for college five months ago. I lead him to my room so we can just sit and hang out. I open my bedroom door and he follows me in, but he stops dead in his tracks when his eyes land on the poster above my bed.

“What the fuck is that?” he asks, starting at it, completely frozen.

I look at the poster with a smile. “Uh, Mario Lopez, duh. Don’t mind him. He’s just working out,” I joke.

He rolls his eyes he moves to sit at my desk while I sit on the bed. “Why is he there? Seems weird.”

I laugh. “Shut up. It’s just a poster. He’s there because I like to know he’s watching me,” I tease.

He makes a fake gagging sound. “Seriously, it’s creepy. I think you should take it down.”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously with the jealousy? We all know you don’t want a real guy around me, so you’re just going to have to settle with a poster.”

This time he rolls his eyes. “No, seriously. I feel like he’s watching me. It’s like the Mona Lisa. No matter where I go, his eyes are following me.”

I smile. “I know. I kind of like it.”

He shakes his head. “You really are a freak, aren’t you?”

“You can’t be the only guy in my fantasies, Carson.”

He laughs but he thinks I’m joking. Really, Mario Lopez doesn’t stand a chance against Carson. I’d rather have him any day of the week. “Anyway, what have you been up to lately?”

I lie back on the bed and notice the way his eyes watch me. This is way better than the poster. “Nothing much. Greg and I have been—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“Greg? Greg Warren?” he questions.

I nod. “That’s the one. Why?”

“You’re dating Greg? My friend Greg?”

I nod. “Yeah, I mean, I wouldn’t call it dating as much as hanging out and stuff, but—”

He goes flying out of his seat and starts pacing. “You’re sleeping with Greg?”

“What? No, we’re not sleeping together. At least, not yet. We’re just…you know, going out, making out, exploring our options and each other’s bodies. With our hands!” I emphasize, highly exaggerating what it is I’ve actually done with Greg. In reality, I’ve never done much of anything besides hold hands and a kiss here and there. “Nothing else. No sex. Why is this bothering you? Seriously, you still act like I’m a little girl sometimes, Carson. I’m almost eighteen.”

He shakes his head. “I know how old you are; I just don’t think you should be screwing around with Greg or doing anything with him for that matter. What’s he even doing here? Didn’t he go off to college?”

I shake my head. “He didn’t get in anywhere. He’s going to the community college.”

He snorts. “Oh, well, that’s great. Way to go, Felicity. Set your sights real high there, didn’t you?”

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