I walked toward my mom's old beat up Honda Civic, a gift from my dad for my seventeenth birthday. He cherished that car, never wanting to part with it because it was the last part of Mom he had. Even after all these years, no woman would ever compare to her. I kissed the top of the car just as I had done since I was five before getting in.
As I drove home, I tried to remember Connor’s number. I couldn’t.
Shit.
And today was Friday.
Chapter 2
I walked into the house as my dad reached the door, and we bumped into each other.
He was leaving for a date night …
Dad was dressed immaculately in blue suit jacket, white V-neck and jeans. He was a handsome man, muscled with broad shoulders. Sex on a stick is what Amber always called him.
If she only knew ...
"Dad, where are you going?" I blocked him from exiting the door. “Why don’t you ever stay home on the weekends? We could go out and do something together.”
He sighed and scooted me to the side. "Honey, I don't have time right now. I'm running a little behind to meet my client.” He paused before walking out. “I know what you’re doing. But what I’m doing puts a roof over your head and food on the table.”
Then he left.
I watched him get into his black Mercedes and drive off. I sighed and looked out to our simple, middle-class neighborhood. People stared as Dad drove past them, and I watched as the knowing looks flashed across their faces.
I shut the door.
Walking to my room, I dropped my book bag and turn on my iPod deck. Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble” blasted from the speakers as I fell on my bed, trying to clear my mind of my dad and the small tiff we’d just had … then Connor … Mr. Tomlinson … my teacher for the rest of the year … our kiss…
My fingers brushed lightly across my lips. I could still feel him on my mouth, the tingles of his hot cinnamon breath. And the heat. The burning heat had left me flushed with need.
I covered my face with my hands. I wouldn’t see him again until Monday. Or talk to him. After almost eight years apart then getting the small bit of him today—and the incredible taste of how it felt to be around him again—not seeing him all weekend would drive me crazy.
Connor, I thought, why did you come back?
My hands fell from my face. The thought of staying home alone for the weekend started to scare me, filling my veins with anxiety.
I grabbed my tote, opening my drawer and stuffing my pajamas and clean underwear into my bag. I shuffled around for my car keys at the bottom of my book bag as I walked out the front door and into my car. I drove toward Amber’s house with the windows down, letting the fresh air of autumn cleanse my mind.
When her enormous, brick stone home came into view, I smiled. My best friend would be loud and fun, which meant that my emotions, my thoughts and my need to see Connor would stay quiet. Well, quiet enough to get me through the next couple of days.
As I parked my car in front of her house, Amber ran across her front lawn, opening my door for me. “I’ve been calling you since I got home from school!” she squealed. “What happened? How was teacher?” She blushed and laughed softly. “I mean, did he answer all your questions? What did you have to ask him about anyway?” She moved so I could step out of the car, and smiled when she noticed my overnight bag.
“Is it okay if I spend the weekend here?”
She hugged me close. “It, like, only took you until our senior year to want a sleepover! Of course you can spend the weekend with me!”
She released her tight hold on me, grabbed my bag and waited for me to close my car door. Amber walked ahead of me as I followed her to her house. Once we were inside, she yelled for her mom. Feeling embarrassed and a bit shy, I stepped behind her as her mom rounded the corner and walk down their large foyer. Her calm and caring aura greeted us. She was striking with wavy brown hair, her blue eyes sparkling as she smiled at us. Whenever I was in Mrs. Clay’s presence, I instantly missed my mom. She reminded me so much of my hero.
“Hi, darling.” She embraced me with a warm hug. “This is great! Amber can never stop talking about you on the weekends. She misses you so much.”
“Mom,” Amber warned.
“Vida should know how much she means to you, sweetie.” Mrs. Clay winked at me and turned around. “Come with me to the dining room. Dinner is ready.”
Amber hooked an arm through mine as we followed her mom, dropping my bag by the stairs as we pass it. “We’re going out tonight,” she whispered wickedly, putting a finger to her lips. I shook my head and laughed without any sound.
Mr. Clay was already seated at the head of the table, waiting for us. He stood and greeted his wife with a kiss on the cheek, pulling out her chair. Once he is seated again, we take our seat. Amber quickly grabbed the bowl of mash potatoes, scooping some onto her plate then mine before passing the bowl to her mom.