I grab a hair tie from my back pocket and rake my curls into a ponytail. I run water, splash it over my face in an attempt to erase the red splotches on my cheeks. Then a voice from the lower hall, calling up the stairs.
“Alec?” His mother. Oh shit, shit! I press my ear to the door.
“Up here!”
Her footsteps sound impossibly loud as she climbs the carpeted stairs. “Whose car is out front?”
“I thought you were at your book club.”
“Becky got sick. We decided to try again next week.” A beat of dead air. “Who’s here with you?”
“Zephyr.” Alec’s voice is calm, casual. My ear melts into the door. My heart is about to pound out of my chest and he’s as cool as if he were answering a question in French class.
More silence. I imagine Mrs. Lord at the entrance to his room, peering in, surveying. “Just Zephyr?”
“Yup.”
“What were you two doing in your room?”
“She’s helping me with French. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
“Where is she?”
Oh shit. Shit. Shit.
“Mom, relax. She went to the bathroom. Please don’t embarrass her. She’ll be out in, like, a minute. Can we just come down when she’s done? She can probably hear you, you know.”
Another drum of silence. I expect she’s looking at the disheveled bed, but then she says. “Yes, of course, I just thought because of . . . Just come down. I’d feel better about you studying in the living room.”
“Yeah, okay. No problem.”
When I’m sure she’s gone, I return to his room. The bed is meticulous, the shiny condom coin nowhere in sight. Alec’s at his desk with his laptop open, Mrs. Sarter’s Google page on the screen. He doesn’t look fazed. At all.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “Is she going to kill you?” Hate me?
He looks at his laptop, at his bed, at the extra study buddy chair he has pulled up to his desk. It all looks perfectly innocent. “Everything’s fine. I told you I’d always look out for you.”
Relief feels like oxygen refilling my lungs. “What if we’d gotten caught? That was way too close.”
Alec stands, strokes my ponytail. “It wouldn’t matter to me. I want the whole world to know you’re mine.”
“But your mom? That’s creepy.”
“Then prepare to be creeped out. She wants us downstairs.” Alec takes my hand, leads me to the door. My feet can hardly move. How can I meet his mother knowing what we were really doing? When she might know what we were really doing.
As if he knows what I’m thinking, Alec says, “You’ll be fine. Take this.” He plucks his French text from his shelf, hands it to me. “Props always make for good storytelling. Adds authenticity.”
“Right.” God, he’s good.
Almost too good.
Mrs. Lord is filling a pot at the sink in the island when we come down. My nerves rattle as I white-knuckle the textbook that grounds me in the lie.
“Mom, this is Zephyr. Zephyr, my mom, Ellen.”
I force eye contact, feign innocence. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lord.”
“Please, call me Ellen.”
“Yes ma’am.” I want to kick myself. Where did ma’am come from? My brain is completely fried.
She laughs. “And you definitely are not allowed to call me ma’am.” She transfers the full pot to the stove, wipes her manicured hands on a dish towel. She has kind eyes and an easy smile. It’s hard to believe she’s the same controlling woman Alec’s described.
“I’m going to walk Zephyr out, Mom.”
“So soon?” A silent language exchanges between them before Mrs. Lord forces cheer. “Well, it’s too bad you can’t stay. Will we see you again, Zephyr?”
Alec squeezes my hand, too hard.
“I look forward to it,” I say.
Her gentle smile widens. “Merry Christmas, Zephyr.”
“Merry Christmas.”
Alec walks me to my car. “You okay?”
“Hardly. That was beyond awkward.” I peer around him, looking for Ellen’s face in one of the gatrillion windows.
“But nothing happened. Everything’s so okay.” He kisses me gently and my mouth responds obediently. “I wish you didn’t have to go, though. I wish I could lie in bed with you forever.”
“Me too. Without your mom home, of course.”
“We could have that next year.” When he opens my door, I slide onto the cold seat. He pulls a paper tube from his back pocket. When did he pick that up? He hands it to me. A booklet? A magazine? “I’m glad you’ll think about it.” He extends my seat belt over my front, clipping me in safely. I place the roll onto the passenger seat and it spreads open. A lapis blue brochure for University of Michigan. “Go Blue,” Alec says.