Stealing Parker

Chapter 9


getting serious
36 days until i turn 18

No one except Tate calls to find out why I wasn’t at church. Not Aaron, not Brother John, not Laura, not Allie. Will’s right. They aren’t very Christian. Only Tate called—not my cell, but my landline.
“I found your number in the church directory,” Tate says.
“Hi, Parker!” I hear Rachel yell in the background.
He says, “I missed you today.”
“I went to church with Will. You know, Corndog? From JB last night?”
“He seemed nice.”
“He is. We just recently started hanging out.” I tell Tate about how Will and I have been jostling for valedictorian for eons.
Tate asks, “Are you, um, interested in him?”
“My friend likes him,” I say, sinking my head into a pillow. If Drew wasn’t interested in him, and I wasn’t messing around with Brian, and if Will and I hadn’t been rivals all through school, would I be thinking way different thoughts about him? Yeah. But some hands don’t always result in a full house. Sometimes you get two of a kind or an ace high. You don’t get a royal straight flush including two happily married parents, a non-drug-using brother, and a big, slobbering dog, with none of your family members being deathly allergic to said dog.
“So Aaron’s really with Laura?” I ask. I feel bad for hurting him, but I’m ashamed I kissed a guy who was so willing to try to make me jealous.
“For now. He doesn’t like her like he likes you, though.”
“I don’t even get why he likes me.” Why anybody likes me.
He clucks his tongue. “You’re your own person. You wear what you want and don’t bother with people who annoy you. Everyone wants to be like that.”
What? Really? They think I don’t bother with people who annoy me? It was Laura who started those rumors. It was the church ladies who started telling their children to keep away from me, for fear I’d turn out like Mom. Ladies who had once been Mom’s friends.
But even if they did want to talk to me, would I want to talk to them? It’s best to keep people away. Then I remember how I told Will everything last night. Everything. And he still took me to his church. He introduced me to his family.
“Parker? You there?” Tate says over the phone.
“Sorry, I was thinking.”
“About?”
I pick at a loose thread dangling from my duvet. “Do you like our church?”
He chuckles. “Not much. The people are worse than Phillies fans.”
“Harsh. You like baseball? I didn’t know that.”
“It’s hard to talk about anything when we’re always trying to stop Laura from convincing us to burn our iPods because we listen to Coldplay.”
I pause. “Drew plays baseball for Hundred Oaks. Second base.”
Tate exhales. The phone line crackles, as if he’s breathing heavily. “Why’ve you never mentioned him before? Why’d you never bring him to church?”
“Why would I subject anyone to our church?” I say with a laugh. “And like you said, I was too busy trying to stop Laura from burning my iPod to mention friends from school.”
“Ah.”
Tate and I never really talked much before Mom left. Was he lonely? Has our church always made him feel uncomfortable with who he is? Is that why he started hanging out with me? Did he think I’d understand? I flip on my TV and start flicking through the channels, waiting for Tate to add something, but he doesn’t.
I decide to tell a little lie, to get the conversation going again. “Drew said he thought you looked familiar.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Maybe you could look him up on Facebook?”
I hear crackling again. “I’ll do that.”
“His last name’s Bates. Drew Bates.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
I’m grinning as we hang up. I lie back on my bed and decide not to repaint my nails.
???

Sunday night is Veena Comes Over for Dinner, take two. Dad gave me a warning this time so I can cook something good!
I’m using Gramma’s hashbrown chicken casserole recipe, but I make it my own by switching out the Corn Flakes for Frosted Flakes. The sugar gives it a kick. I’m making a salad to go with it, so I’ll have something to eat after my small portion of casserole.
“Smells good,” Ryan says, coming into the kitchen.
“Thanks.”
He takes a glass from the cabinet and pours himself some water. “What’s the occasion?”
I rarely make this casserole, because it takes like two hours to put it together. “Dad’s friend Veena is coming over.”
Ryan pauses before sipping.
“She was really nice at dinner last week,” I tell him, slicing into a cucumber. “I bet you’ll like her. She’s a nurse over at Murfreesboro Regional.”
My brother doesn’t answer, but he sits down at the table while I work. It surprises me that he’s willing to keep me company.
I prepare a plate of cheese and crackers, which I push in front of him, making him smile a little. “Be right back,” he says, disappearing. When he comes back, he’s changed out of a T-shirt and into a navy blue polo shirt. If he’d cut his shaggy hair already, he’d look exactly like he did in high school, when so many girls liked him because he was so cute. I bet if Macy saw him in a polo shirt, she’d probably recite some Nietzsche quote and go on about how third-world children sew them in sweatshops, and then say if Ryan wears one, he’s the harbinger of the apocalypse.
Then the apocalypse truly happens: Ryan helps set the table.
When Veena shows up, Dad answers the door. I peek around the wall into the foyer, to see them laughing quietly and chatting as he takes her jacket. Dad leans down and gives her a peck on the lips, which makes me wonder what they did after we went to Crockett’s Roadhouse last week.
I can’t stop smiling as we sit down to eat. Dad leads us in the Lord’s Prayer, then we put our napkins in our laps and dig in.
“This looks really yummy,” Veena says, forking up some casserole.
“Thanks,” I reply.
“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since I left New York.”
“Is your family there?” Ryan asks, salting his casserole.
“My parents, my sister and her husband, and my grandmother. And two nieces.”
“You’re a nurse?” Ryan asks her.
“Yep,” she says, chewing.
“Did you always know that’s what you wanted to do?”
She smiles, thinking. “I wanted to be an astronaut more, but I stink at math.”
“It’s my worst subject too,” Ryan replies. “But I still want to go to med school.”
“What programs are you thinking about?”
“Vanderbilt is one of the best, but I’m not enjoying my undergrad classes there.”
She nurses her iced tea. “I didn’t like mine either. I hated taking all those politics and English courses. And don’t even get me started on art. But it’s all a means to an end.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Ryan says. This is the most I’ve heard my brother speak in forever.
“If you want, we can get together for coffee this week sometime and talk more. Or you can come by the hospital and talk to some of the other doctors about what their undergrad experiences were like.”
“That sounds good,” Ryan replies, tapping his fork on his placemat.
Dad beams so hard he seems ten years younger.
It almost feels like a family, but I still wish Mom were here.
???

It’s getting serious, yet it’s staying the same. Every night this week I’ve made out with Brian. Ryan and Dad notice nothing, obviously, so it’s no problem for me to sneak out of my room and dart across the street to Brian’s parked truck tucked behind the Dumpsters after eleven.
On Monday night, we just kissed.
On Tuesday night, he went up my shirt.
On Wednesday at school, I stopped by Coach Lynn’s office during study hall. Brian’s squatting there until he gets his own office next year.
“What are you doing here?” Brian asked, slipping a pen behind his ear. He leaned back in his seat and wrapped his hands behind his head, smirking at me.
I waved a hall pass. “I nicked this from Mrs. Perkins. I wanted to see what you’re up to.”
He jumped to his feet, closed the door behind me, and locked it. I walked around the office, looking at Coach Lynn’s things: silk roses in a vase, pictures of her family, the cat calendar on the wall.
“Love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Smart ass,” he replied, following me as I weaved around the desk and chairs. I wiped a finger across the desk, pretending to check for dust.
I knew it was wrong. All of it. Kissing him, and wanting to kiss him again. But when his arms are around me, everything feels good. I feel safe and cared for. And the kissing is very, very okay.
“So why did you stop by again?” He scratched the back of his neck and squinted.
I smiled mischievously. “I was in study hall and couldn’t stop thinking about last night.”
He closed the blinds. He breathed heavily. He ran a hand through his hair. He loosened his Best Buy Geek Squad tie. Then his lips were on mine and he lifted me onto the desk. He pulled my hips to his and kissed me until I was so dizzy I could barely breathe. Brian began to grind against me and I was so drunk on him, I couldn’t think at all.
Then someone knocked on the door and Brian rushed to answer it, but stopped for a second to control his breathing. He motioned at me to fix my shirt. I leaped into the chair across from his desk. He opened the door to find Sam, who had dropped by to say he wouldn’t be at practice that day because his mom was sick and his dad was out of town.
As soon as Sam left, Brian exhaled, mussed his black hair, and grinned. He moved toward me. I was shaking like crazy. He swept me up in his arms and gave me a quick kiss.
“That was insanely hot,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said with a tiny voice, trembling. Honestly? It was fun, but it filled me with shame. I hope God was looking the other way.
He went on, “But it can’t happen again at school.”
“I agree.” Goose bumps popped up on my arms. I shuddered.
“We’re okay.” He pressed his forehead to mine and squeezed my hips. “You’d better get back to study hall before I give you detention.”
Brian tried to joke it off, but I had seen the change on his face. What happened freaked him out too.
My face must’ve been blazing red, but Sam didn’t say anything when I saw him later in chemistry.
On Wednesday night, Brian went up my shirt again and unsnapped my bra, and ran his hands over my bare breasts. Him running his calloused fingers over my skin took some getting used to because I couldn’t stop trembling. But when I calmed down, we fell into a rhythm. A rhythm that kept getting faster and faster until our shirts and my bra ended up on the floorboard of the truck. I touched his abs, which I’m fairly certain are made of marble. His teeth sank into my shoulder, making me gasp. I discovered he has a tattoo on his shoulder blade. A symbol, but when I asked what it meant, he refused to tell me, saying it’s private.
“Where’s your tattoo?” he teased, trying to peek under my waistband. I smacked his chest and we laughed. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that tattoo and what it means and why he couldn’t share with me.
On Thursday night, he kissed my breasts and felt me through my jeans. I wasn’t comfortable enough to touch him yet. But he took my fingers and put my hand there anyway.
A cold sweat tore over my body.
Then a cop knocked on the truck window and told us to move it along. I jumped out. Dashed into my house, to my room, panting and freaking out. My bra hung loose around my shoulders, and the top button of my jeans was undone. Brian called me when he got home. The whole thing upset him too.
But when I asked, “Can we go to your place instead of parking? I don’t want to risk getting caught again,” he replied, “We’ll find another place to park.”
“Why can’t we go to your house?”
“Because I live above my parents’ garage. What if they see you?”
“They don’t have to know I’m seventeen. Just tell them I’m older.”
“They might know you from church. I would be embarrassed if they found out about this.”
“You’re embarrassed by me?” I whispered.
“No, no. Just the situation would embarrass me. You’re a student.”
Even with my reputation, Will seemed proud of me at his church last Sunday. When he’s lying on top of me, Brian seems pretty damned pleased with me.
“Sounds like you’re embarrassed by me.”
He sighed exaggeratedly. “Whatever.”
“Could we go someplace else tomorrow night? Like dinner in Nashville?”
“That’s not a good idea. We could get in a shitload of trouble. Who knows who might see us?”
“But making out in the parking lot across the street from my house is a good idea?” I really wanted to do something other than talk on the phone and make out in his truck. That used to be enough for me with other guys. But I’m starting to want the whole shebang, and the whole shebang should include going someplace…even Foothills Diner.
At the same time, my friendship with Will keeps getting better and better. Sometimes we walk together between classes, and two times this week he called me after practice.
Wednesday night, I lay on my bed, listening as he told me a story about how when he was three, he was so smart he figured out how to unlock the gate at his preschool’s playground and he waddled down the street to McDonald’s, where he walked in, clapped his hands and yelled, “Happy Meal!”
“Why don’t you ever date?” I asked him quietly. Thinking of Drew, but also thinking of him. Him, and how my feelings for him were ballooning and floating off without my permission.
“Ehhhh,” he said. “It’s kinda silly, I guess. I never really felt like I knew who I was, and I was so into beating you at valedictorian, I didn’t want that extra burden, especially considering my parents need help with Bo and the farm.”
“I get that.”
“I mean, I see the guys on the football and baseball teams who have girlfriends, and it’s like…it’s like it’s their whole lives. I guess I want to have my own life first and then meet someone who can be a part of it…but not fill it…?”
“Huh,” I replied, wiggling my toes at the ceiling. “Cool.”
“What about you? Why don’t you ever date?”
I’m sorta seeing your baseball coach…“Never wanted to get close to anyone. You know that.”
“But you hook up.”
“Yeah, but so do you,” I replied, baiting him.
“Occasionally. But nothing serious.”
“You mean…?” He hasn’t done it yet?
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not doing that until I’m in a real relationship.”
“I’m a virgin too,” I said quietly.
He paused for a long moment. “I didn’t know that.”
Then we went back to discussing the Prom Decisional. But it shocked me to know that Will, a hot eighteen-year-old baseball player and genius, was saving himself. It made me proud that I had saved myself too. Proud that I could tell him that.
During gym on Friday morning, Brian wouldn’t even look my way as I ran around the track with Will. Whatever, I thought.
Brian blew his whistle. “I know you can go faster than that, Whitfield.”
“What’s up his ass today?” Will asked, not bothering to speed up.
“No idea,” I replied, even though I knew. Brian doesn’t like seeing me with Will.
“You talk to him a lot, right?”
I nearly stopped running, to freeze right there beside the goal post.
“Yeah, he’s nice to me,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“He doesn’t bother you, I hope.”
I waved a hand. “No, no. We talk about stats and the Braves and stuff.”
“Okay.” Will stared over at Brian. Fear rushed through me. Had Sam mentioned finding us in Coach Lynn’s office?
Back in the locker room, I overheard a couple girls saying that all I do in gym class is stare at Coach Hoffman, so I told myself not to look at him anymore.
But here I am on Friday night, making out with him in his truck. Dark and midnight. He touches me through my jeans and kisses me hard. The taste of bubble gum fills my mouth.
“You make me so hot,” he says, pulling my leg to wrap around his waist.
It all feels so weird. I want it, yet I don’t, but I’m not going to stop because it feels too good.
“I want to take this further,” he says, gasping, pressing his hardness against my thigh. “But we need to wait until your birthday. Probably until after you graduate.”
“Take this further how?” I reply, nibbling on his ear, making him groan and breathe faster.
His hand sneaks up my shirt. “You know, sleep together.”
Okay, (1) We’ve only been making out for what, a week? (2) I’m a virgin. (3) That’s pretty presumptuous, to think I’d automatically agree to sleep with him. Don’t I get a say in any of this? We barely talk anymore. It’s all kissing and disagreements, and while the kissing is yummy, my heart hurts.
“I’m not ready for that,” I whisper, clutching his shirt.
He looks in my eyes before closing his. “Most people I know do it on the second or third date.”
“Oh.” I can’t even imagine that. Some kids at school casually fool around, but I don’t understand how they can get so intimate so quickly. To me, it seems like sex should happen naturally after a long period of dating and love. Not something that automatically happens because it’s the third date. I guess this means Brian’s had sex. Tons of it, probably, but I’m not gonna do the math.
“I’m not sure I want to.” I avoid his eyes.
“It’s fine,” he mumbles before starting to kiss me again. His stubble scratches my chin. “Can we do something else, at least? For now?”
“What?”
“Will you…?” He unzips his jeans.
He wants me to put my mouth on it. “I can’t,” I gasp, ashamed at the thought.
“Can I touch you?” he whispers, unbuttoning my jeans. He slides them down my legs and stares at my lacy white underwear. I’ve never gone this far with a boy, and the look on his face is so sexy I tug on his jeans, revealing black boxer briefs. He pushes my panties aside, making me moan softly as he works a finger inside me.
Later I straddle him and he wraps his hands around my waist and we kiss and kiss, only thin cotton separating us. I get so caught up in wanting to know what this feels like with a man that I nearly forget he hasn’t even taken me out on a real date yet.
“Next week, can we please do something outside of your truck?” I ask, delirious because of what he’s doing to my neck.
“Really, it’s not a good idea,” he pants, slipping his hand back down my underwear.
I want to tell him he can’t kiss away these issues, but somehow I doubt he’ll hear me. I push his hand away and sit up, lifting my hips and pulling my jeans back on. The door handle wedges into my back. It’s painful.
“I don’t want to sleep with you in your truck,” I say, licking my lips. They’re chapped from kissing so much.
He weaves his fingers in my hair and presses his forehead to mine. “We wouldn’t do it in my truck.”
“But you won’t let me go to your apartment now. Why will it be different in a month?”
“We can’t go to my apartment. Ever.”
“Fine.” The windshield is fogged up.
He glances down at where my pants fasten, then leans back in. “We could go to a motel?”
“That’s real classy.”
“I don’t mean to be a jerk…it’s just I’m so scared about this.” His breath feels hot against my face. His face wears a look of desperation. Like he wants me to follow his lead, no questions asked. “And sometimes I get so wrapped up in you and feeling like I’m young again, I forget about how much trouble we’ll be in if anyone finds out.”
I love that he’s into me, but is he only into me so he’ll “feel young again”? It’s not like he’s ancient. It’s like the minute we started hooking up, he got scared, and the fear has changed him.
“I bet you’d take Coach Vixen back to your apartment,” I say.
“You are Trouble, you know that?” he says with a laugh.
“It’s not funny.”
“I’m really into you, Park. I’m not interested in Jenna, I promise.”
“I think I’m gonna go home.” I start to open the door when Brian reaches out and pulls me into his arms.
“I’m sorry…We’ll figure this out.”
“You mean you’ll figure this out. You won’t listen to a single thing I say.” I try to disentangle myself from his arms, but he holds me tighter.
“I’m trying.” He leans his forehead against mine.
“I’m ready for bed.” I’m so pissed, I don’t bother with a good night kiss. “Bye.”
“Good night.” He sighs and drags a hand through his hair, and I climb out and trudge toward my house. Right as I step up to my porch, Drew emerges from the shadows. I gasp.
“Coach Hoffman? Really?” He looks freaked out. “You could get in so much trouble. What if your dad finds out? Or the school?” I hear Brian’s truck squeal out of the laundromat parking lot.
“Oh my God. You can’t tell!”
“I’d never do that. You know that.”
“I know.” I nod, closing my eyes. My body’s shaking all over. Did Drew see us hooking up?
“But what about Corndog?”
“What about him?” I open my eyes to find Drew regarding me warily. Looking at me like he doesn’t even know who I am.
“You know what I mean.”
“Drew…” I clasp my hands. How do I tell him that even though Will’s straight and will most likely never be interested in Drew back, I won’t do that to him? I guess that’s all I can say. “I’d never betray you. You’re my best friend.” I step closer to him and hug him around the waist, breathing in the comforting smell of lemons and cotton.
“Thanks,” he chokes out. “But are you okay? I thought you just had a crush on him, but you’re with him for real? Coach Hoffman? Really?”
“Would you stop saying ‘Coach Hoffman? Really?’”
“How did this even happen?”
“It just did.” My voice is tiny. “We probably won’t last.”
“Are you okay?”
I nod slowly.
“I won’t deny that he’s hot,” Drew jokes. “But it’s kinda pervy that he’s into you.”
I hug him tighter, but I’m wishing I was hugging Will. I feel like I’m gonna barf. “Let’s hang out tomorrow after the game, okay?” he says quietly.
“Okay.” I release Drew and kiss his cheek. He heads toward his trailer down the street and I go to my room. I slide my cell open to find a slew of text messages from Brian and Will.
Brian’s texts are: Does Bates know? Can he keep a secret?
Will’s texts are: You busy tomorrow night? I have to babysit. Would love your company.
I change into pajamas and wash my face, daydreaming about Will coming through my window tonight, to hug me and make me feel safe and special.
Back in my room, I crawl under the covers and send Brian a text: All’s okay. Good night.
I send Will a text: I’d like that.
A calm, cool response that doesn’t betray Drew.
Even though it betrays my heart.