Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(9)

 

Mick is out in the waiting room listening to Jersey recite the capitals of all the states, nodding in appreciation even when he gets most of them wrong.

 

“…And the capital of North Dakota is South Carolina. See? It’s tricky like that. You have to really try to remember, but you can do it, Mickey Mouse. You can do it. I believe in you.”

 

“Come on, time to go home,” I say. I’m completely exhausted. All I want to do is go home and take a two-week-long nap.

 

Jersey stands without a fight. “Come on, Mickey Mouse. Time for dinner.”

 

“He’s not staying for dinner,” I say as we go out to the car. “He’s busy.”

 

We get in the vehicle and I start it up, looking in the back seat to be sure Jersey is putting his seatbelt on.

 

“Are you busy?” Jersey asks, looking sad.

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty busy,” Mick says, settling into the front seat next to me. “Maybe another time, J-man.”

 

I’m angry at his answer. Does it mean he’s regretting hanging out with my brother? Does it mean he hates me? Or is he really busy? Argh, I want this day to have never happened. Nothing with Jersey is ever easy. And no matter what Mick does, I’m going to assume the worst. I can’t even look at him.

 

“Who’s J-man?” Jersey asks, confused. I can see his scrunched-up face in the rearview mirror as I reverse out of our parking space.

 

“That’s you. J is for Jersey,” Mick explains as I pull out onto the main road.

 

There’s a giant elephant in the car, namely the identity of the person responsible for the poo-licking, but I’d rather die than discuss it in front of Mick. I’ve decided that I’m glad he got the hint and said he couldn’t come to dinner. I can only take so much humiliation coming from my family for one day before I snap. And when I snap, it’s never pretty. Not that I care what Mick thinks. Maybe it would be good for him to see me all snapped out. Then I could write off the errant thoughts of him naked as tiny brain aneurisms on my part and move on with my life.

 

Twenty minutes later after a car ride filled with lists of state capitals, we arrive back at our house. I realize then that I forgot to bring Mick home.

 

“Shit.” I rest my head on the steering wheel as Jersey gets out and sprints up the front walk and into the house, yelling the entire way.

 

“What’s the matter?” Mick asks.

 

“I forgot to drive you home.” I want to cry. I don’t think I can be alone with him now. Or ever for that matter.

 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call my brother.” He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket.

 

“No, I’ll take you.”

 

“No, that’s fine,” he says, getting out of the car and turning his back on me.

 

It probably should be a relief, but his refusal to allow me to take him home feels like a rejection and just pisses me off more. My brain is making no sense. First I hate him and never want to see him again and then I wonder if he might like me someday.

 

As I watch him on his phone, I can’t help but wonder if the reason he’s saying no to my ride offer is because he really dislikes me or because he’s had enough of the Torres household to last a lifetime. Either reason sucks big donkey dong.

 

Jersey appears out on the porch with my mom in tow.

 

I get out of the car and rush up to meet them, my heart going way too fast. Screw caring about Mick and wanting him to like me. This cannot happen.

 

“Hey, Mickey Mouse!” Jersey yells, leaving Mom with me on the lawn.

 

“What’s this all about?” she asks.

 

“Mom!” I grab her arm and squeeze it, talking low and fast. “Don’t let him stay for dinner! Tell Jersey no! Tell him Mick’s busy! Tell him we don’t have enough food! Tell him … tell him … tell him you’re dying of a dread disease and don’t have time to host guests for dinner anymore!”

 

She smiles at me. “What’s gotten into you? Are you okay? How’d the doctor’s go?”

 

“Mom! Are you even listening to me?! I’m serious!”

 

Jersey walks up with Mick’s hand in his. “This is Mickey Mouse and I want him to come to dinner.”

 

Mick holds out his hand. “Hello, Mrs …”

 

“Torres. But you can call me Linda,” my mom the traitor says.

 

I glare at her but she ignores me completely. In fact, the smile on her face says she’s enjoying this way too much. I would pinch her on the butt if Mick wasn’t looking right at her.