CHAPTER Five
“You’re wrong,” she says.
We’re standing in my kitchen. Her back is pressed against the counter and I’m standing in front of her with my arms on either side of her. I catch her lips with mine and shut her up. It doesn’t last long because she pushes my face away.
“I’m serious,” she whispers. “I don’t think they like me.”
I bring a hand up and wrap it around the nape of her neck and look her directly in the eyes. “They like you. I promise.”
“No we don’t,” my dad says as he makes his way into the kitchen. “We can’t stand her. In fact, we hope you never bring her back.” He refills his cup with ice, then walks back to the living room.
Six’s eyes follow him as he exits the room, then she looks back up at me, wide-eyed.
“See?” I say with a smile. “They love you.”
She points toward the living room. “But he just . . .”
My father’s voice cuts her off when he walks back into the kitchen. “Kidding, Six,” he says, laughing. “Inside joke. We actually like you a lot. I tried to give Danny-boy Grandma Wesley’s ring earlier but he says it’s still too soon to make you a Wesley.”
Six laughs at the same time she breathes a sigh of relief. “Yeah, maybe so. It’s only been a month. I think we should wait at least two more weeks before we talk proposals.”
My dad walks farther into the kitchen and leans against the counter across from us. I feel a little awkward standing so close to Six now, so I move next to her and lean against the bar.
“Did you come back in here so you could think of things to say that would embarrass me?” I ask. I know that’s why he’s standing here. I can see the glimmer in his eyes.
He laughs, then takes a drink of his tea. He scrunches his nose up. “Nah,” he says. “I would never do that, Danny-boy. I’m not the type of dad who would tell his son’s girlfriend how he talks about her incessantly. I would also never tell my son’s girlfriend that I’m proud of her for not having sex with him yet.”
Holy shit. I groan and slap myself in the forehead. I should have known better than to bring her here.
“You talk to him about the fact that we haven’t had sex?” Six says, completely embarrassed.
My father shakes his head. “No, he doesn’t have to. I know because every night he comes home he goes straight to his bedroom and takes a thirty-minute shower. I was eighteen once.”
Six covers her face with her hands. “Oh, my God.” She peeks through her hands at my dad. “I guess I know who Daniel gets his personality from.”
My father nods. “Tell me about it. His mother is terribly inappropriate.”
Right on cue, my mother and Chunk walk through the front door with dinner. I glare at my father, then walk toward my mother and grab the pizza boxes out of her hands. She sets her purse down and walks over to Six and gives her a quick hug.
“I’m sorry I didn’t cook for you. Busy day today,” she says.
“It’s fine,” Six replies. “Nothing like inappropriate conversation over pizza.”
I watch as my mother spins around and eyes my father. “Dennis? What have you been up to?”
He shrugs. “Just telling Danny-boy how I would never embarrass him in front of Six.”
My mother laughs. “Well, as long as you aren’t embarrassing him, then. I’d hate for Six to find out about his lengthy showers every night.”
I slap the table. “Mom! Jesus Christ!”
She laughs and my dad winks at her. “Already covered that one.”
Six walks to the table, shaking her head. “Your parents actually make you seem like a gentleman.” She takes a seat at the table and I sit in the chair next to her.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to her. She looks at me and smiles.
“Are you kidding me? I love this.”
“Why would long showers embarrass you?” Chunk says to me, taking a seat across from Six. “I would think wanting to be clean is a good thing.” She picks up a slice of pizza and begins to take a bite, but then her eyes squeeze shut and she drops the pizza onto her plate. By the look on her face, the meaning behind the long showers has just hit her. “Oh, gross. Gross!” she says, shaking her head.
Six begins to laugh and I rest my forehead against my hand, convinced this is more than likely the most uncomfortable, embarrassing five minutes of my life. “I hate all of you. Every last one of you.” I quickly look at Six. “Except you, babe. I don’t hate you.”
She smiles and wipes her mouth with a napkin. “I know exactly what you mean. I hate everybody, too.”
As soon as the words fall from her mouth, she looks away like she didn’t just punch me in the gut, rip out my intestines, and stomp them into the ground.
I hate everybody too, Cinderella.
The words I said that day in the closet are screaming loudly inside my head.
There’s no way.
There’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed she was Cinderella.
I bring my hands to my face and close my eyes, trying hard to remember something about that day. Her voice, her kiss, her smell. The way we seemed to connect almost instantly.
Her laugh.
“Are you okay?” Six asks quietly. No one else can tell something major is going on with me right now, but she notices. She notices because we’re in sync. She notices because we have this unspoken connection. We’ve had it since the second I laid eyes on her in Sky’s bedroom.
We’ve had it since the second she fell on top of me in the maintenance closet.
“No,” I say, bringing my hands down. “I’m not okay.” I grip the edge of the table, then slowly turn to face her.
Soft hair.
Amazing mouth.
Phenomenal kisser.
My mouth is dry, so I reach to my cup and down a huge gulp of water. I slam my cup back down on the table, then turn and face her. I’m trying not to smile, but this whole thing is slightly overwhelming. Realizing that the girl from my past that I wished I could know is the same girl from my present that I’m thankful to have is practically one of the best moments of my life. I want to tell Six, I want to tell Chunk, I want to tell my parents. I want to scream it from the rooftops and print it in all the papers.
Cinderella is Six! Six is Cinderella!
“Daniel. You’re scaring me,” she says, watching as my face grows paler and my heart pounds faster.
I look at her. Really look at her this time.
“You want to know why I haven’t given you a nickname yet?”
She looks confused that this is what I decide to say in the middle of my silent freak-out. She nods cautiously. I place one hand on the back of her chair and one hand on the table in front of her, then lean in toward her.
“Because I already gave you one, Cinderella.”
I pull back slightly and watch her face closely, waiting on the realization she’s about to have. The flashback. The clarity. She’s about to wonder how the hell she failed to realize it, too.
Her eyes slowly move up my face until they meet mine. “No,” she says, shaking her head.
I nod slowly. “Yes.”
She’s still shaking her head. “No,” she says again with more certainty. “Daniel there’s no way it could . . .”
I don’t let her finish. I grab her face and kiss her harder than I’ve ever kissed her. I don’t give a shit that we’re seated at a dinner table. I don’t care that Chunk is groaning. I don’t care that my mom is clearing her throat. I keep kissing her until she begins to back away from me.
She’s pushing on my chest, so I pull away from her just in time to see the regret wash over her entire face. I focus on her eyes long enough to see them squeeze shut as she stands to leave the kitchen. I watch her rush away long enough to see her stifle a sob by slapping her hand over her mouth. I remain in my seat until the front door slams shut and I realize she’s gone.
I’m immediately out of my seat. I rush out the front door and run straight to her car, which is now backing out of my driveway. I slam my fist against her hood as I rush to catch up to her window. She’s not looking at me. She’s wiping tears away, trying her hardest not to look out the window I’m banging on.
“Six!” I yell, repeatedly banging on her window with my fist. I see her hand reach down to put the car in drive. I don’t even think. I sprint to the front of the car and slap my hands down on the hood, standing directly in front of it so she can’t take off. I’m watching her do everything she can to avoid looking at me.
“Roll down your window,” I yell.
She doesn’t move. She continues to cry as she focuses on everything other than what’s right in front of her.
Me.
I slap the hood of the car again until she finally brings her eyes up to meet mine. Seeing her heartache confuses the hell out of me. I couldn’t have been happier finding out she was Cinderella, yet she seems embarrassed as hell that I realized it.
“Please,” I say, wincing from the ache that just reached my chest. I hate seeing her upset and I really hate that this is why she’s upset.
She puts the car in park, then reaches a hand to her door and lowers the driver’s side window. I’m not so sure she still won’t drive away if I move out from in front of her car. I carefully and very slowly begin to make my way toward her window, the whole time keeping an eye on her hand to ensure she doesn’t put the car back into drive.
When I reach her window, I bend my knees and lower myself until I’m face to face with her. “Do I even need to ask?”
She looks up at the roof and leans her head against the headrest. “Daniel,” she whispers through her tears. “You wouldn’t understand.”
She’s right.
She’s absolutely right.
“Are you embarrassed?” I ask her. “Because we had sex?”
She squeezes her eyes shut, giving away the fact that she thinks I’m judging her. I immediately reach a hand through her window and pull her gaze back to mine. “Don’t you dare be embarrassed by that. Ever. Do you know how much that meant to me? Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you? I was there. I made that choice right along with you, so please don’t think for a second that I would ever judge you for what happened between us.”
She begins to cry even harder. I want her to get out of the car. I need to hold her because I can’t see her this upset and not do whatever I can to take it away.
“Daniel, I’m sorry,” she says through her sobs. “This was a mistake. This was a huge mistake.” Her hand reaches down to the gearshift and I’m already reaching into the car, trying to stop her.
“No. No, Six,” I plead. She puts the car in drive and reaches to the door, then places her finger on the window button.
I make one last attempt to lean in and kiss her before the window begins to rise on me. “Six, please,” I say, shocked at the sadness and desperation in my own voice. She continues to raise the window until I’m completely out of it and it’s all the way up. I press my palms to her window and slap the glass, but she drives away.
There’s nothing left for me to do but watch the back of the car as it disappears down the street.
What the hell was that?
I pull my hands through my hair and look up at the sky, confused as to what just happened.
That wasn’t her.
I hate that she had the complete opposite reaction from me when she found out who I was.
I hate that she’s embarrassed about that day, like she just wants to forget it. Like she wants to forget me.
I hate it because I’ve done everything I possibly can to commit that day to my memory, like no one or nothing else I’ve ever experienced.
She can’t do this. She can’t just push me away like this without an explanation.