Finn yelps out a loud, vicious bark.
I could pretend I’m not home. Disappear into my room. He wouldn’t come looking for me.
Finn barks again, this time in rapid succession. He is determined, deafening. He crouches in front of the door and scrapes at the base with his claws.
This is stupid. I should just answer the door. Invite Dad in. See him. Deal with this now since there will probably never be a perfect time.
But as my hand turns the doorknob I feel weak, like I’ve forsaken any control I might have.
I open the door a crack and turn to the table. I swallow hard.
Behind me, Finn barks louder, which pleases me since I want him on my side, not Dad’s.
“Hello?”
That’s when I realize it’s not my father’s voice. I whip around and see Alec in the doorway, holding a foil-wrapped dish.
“Alec?” I cringe at how I must look in my Boston College sweatshirt and ratty sweatpants. I’m wearing zero makeup and my hair is a rat’s nest with at least one pencil sticking out of it.
“Isn’t this the part where you ask me in?”
“Of course. Yeah. Come in.”
He steps across the threshold, hefts the plate. “I owe you edible eggplant parm.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” I peek down at Finn, who growls. “Be kind, Finn!” If Finn could only know how much Alec’s done for him.
“He looks good,” Alec says.
“Yeah, and I’m going to pay you back. I promise.”
“The money’s not important.” He waves away my concern. “I wanted to help.”
I blush, overwhelmed by his commitment. It’s almost enough to forget I look like a horror show.
“I hope you’re hungry.” He peels back the foil from a corner of the plate. Steam rises. “Good. Still hot.”
“You or the food?”
His eyes widen. “Both, I hope.”
I chin-nod toward the plate. “The verdict’s still out on the eggplant.”
He grabs my wrist, locks his gaze onto mine. He kisses me roughly.
I pull away, breathless. “Alec, we can’t. What if my mother comes back?”
He rakes his hand through his hair. “She won’t. I watched her pull out.”
Panic nudges me. “Did she see you? Were you in the driveway?”
“Of course not. I waited on the street. Very clandestine.”
“Stalker.”
“Just being careful.”
“Good. She thinks I’m studying.”
“Not anymore.” His wink causes a corkscrew of want to churn through me. How can I be expected to focus on Milton or quadratic equations when I have this boy in my life? He gives me a long, deep kiss, bolts his hips to mine.
When I can barely stand, he sets me into a chair, moves my books to make room for place settings. “I hoped you’d be home. I didn’t want this meal to go to waste.” He insists I sit while he fumbles around the kitchen for utensils. He opens all the drawers. Finds what he needs.
He places a serving in front of me and I pull in a deep, delicious breath. “You’re spoiling me.”
“You deserve it.”
I scoop a forkful of eggplant and take a bite. It is soft and perfectly spiced. “Oh my god, this is phenomenal!”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” I chunk out another bite.
“You might be biased.”
“Yeah, but this is reality show cook-off awesome.”
“I need you to always believe in me.”
I tap on the dish. “Feed me like this and I’ll forever be your biggest fan.”
“Deal.” He smiles. “I have one more thing for you, Zephyr.”
I lower my fork, setting it softly to the edge of the plate. “More? Okay, I’m officially spoiled.”
A gleam jumps to his eye. “Wait here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
While Alec’s outside, my mind stretches with possibility for what his gift might be. And then, too quickly, guilt invades for not surprising him with tokens of my love. I wish I knew how to be a better girlfriend. I wish all of this came to me as easily as it does to Alec.
Then I hear his car door slam and when he returns, Finn barks at Alec as if they’ve never met.
“Enough Finn!” I scold. He slinks to the living room.
Alec comes to the table with a stack of papers. Mail?
“I checked the mailbox for you on my way in. Hope that’s okay.”
“Of course!” My concentration slips to the one large white envelope. The familiar maroon crest peeks out from underneath the cable bill. I reach for the packet slowly. The seal comes into full view. Maroon and white letters. Boston College.
I look to the addressee: “Miss Zephyr Marie Doyle.”