That shocked and delighted him. He loved when she talked dirty. It was a rare treat. He attributed it to the blowjob.
“Say something else,” he ordered, pushing her onto the couch. He grabbed her pants and yanked them off.
“I want your tongue on my *,” she said, and giggled.
“Don’t laugh,” Mark replied. “Be serious when you say it.”
She giggled more while he slipped off her panties.
“Spread those legs,” he said. “And give me something good.”
She shot up suddenly and pressed her lips to his ear.
“I want your mouth on my *, and I want you to eat me until I come. And you better do a fucking good job. Got it?”
She leaned back and curled her lips into a sultry grin. She spread her legs and nestled into the couch. He watched her in utter fascination, mouth hanging slightly open in disbelief.
“Now get to it,” she said.
He dove right in.
***
Cadence and Oliver sat on a familiar bench inside a familiar skate park. They watched a group of young boys practicing tricks, flipping their boards and crashing to the ground in intervals. Cadence thought she could time it—start the ticking of a metronome and watch them fall and stand back up in perfect syncopation.
“What was I thinking?” Oliver asked.
“About?”
“Letting Charlie drive.”
Cadence was quiet for a moment. “Oliver, you weren’t in any condition to tell him not to drive. You can’t put that on yourself.”
“But I feel like I killed him. I mean, how do I answer to God for that?” he asked.
Cadence bit the inside of her lip. “I thought you didn’t believe in God.”
“I do,” he replied. “I always have. Doesn’t mean I’m not angry with him, but I do believe in him.”
Silence.
“Why do we feel like we’re invincible?” Oliver asked.
“Good word.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “I know words, Cay. I’m not a freaking idiot.”
Cadence giggled. “Well, science tells us we feel that way because as teens, we use that part of our brain that’s most impulsive.”
“Hmmm.”
“And our brains don’t even fully develop until we’re twenty-five,” she went on.
“So I’m doomed to be a freaking moron for . . . what is it? Nine more years!!”
Cadence burst out laughing. “Pretty much.”
“I freaking hate my life right now,” Oliver grumbled. “I hate Mom and Dad, my brain is stupid, and I killed my best friend.”
Cadence draped her arm over Oliver’s shoulders. “You didn’t.”
“I did!” he insisted, and then, right there in the open air, in the warm sunshine surrounded by teenage boys practicing their grinds and kickturns, Oliver cried. “Jesus, Cay!” He leaned over and buried his face in his hands.
Cadence rubbed his back and murmured words of encouragement, but she knew he didn’t hear. His grief drowned out the world around him. She felt it as her hand moved over his back—the tension and shell-shock. She was afraid it would twist his heart and make the brother she knew disappear forever.
Oliver wiped his eyes clumsily with the backs of his hands and sat up. He looked directly at a skater who’d stopped to watch him. Cadence hadn’t noticed the boy stared the whole time, trying to make sense of Oliver’s show of grief inside a skate park. It didn’t translate, so he went back to skating, careful to avoid making any further eye contact with Oliver.
Oliver took a deep breath. “What the hell happened to our family?”
Cadence shook her head. “Me.”
“Now if I’m not allowed to take responsibility for Charlie’s death, you sure as hell aren’t allowed to take it for our family falling apart.”
Cadence smiled sadly. “It’s hard to keep from messing up, isn’t it? I wasn’t looking to get in trouble at that party. I wasn’t looking for drugs. Yeah, I should have been stronger and walked away, but I didn’t. That’s my sin. But I couldn’t have known the effects that night would have on us.”
“There’s no such thing as ‘perfect’,” Oliver replied. “I don’t know why Mom and Dad live in this world where they think there is. It’s total denial, and instead of just dealing with our mistakes and helping us grow from them, they ignore. Or in your case, freak out.”
Cadence nodded. “I don’t think they’re very good parents,” she said thoughtfully. “And not because I’m angry with them for cutting me off or anything. I’m looking at it objectively. I really believe they simply don’t make good parents.”
“So what are we supposed to do with that?” Oliver asked.
Cadence sighed. “I’ve no idea. The best that we can, I guess.”
“That’s easier for you because you don’t live with them anymore,” Oliver pointed out.
“Doesn’t mean it’s still not hurtful, Ollie. Doesn’t mean my life is so awesome because I’m no longer under their roof. I miss them—bad parents or not. I miss them. They’re still my parents. And I did spend most of my life in their house. It’s not easy going from that kind of security to living with your boyfriend and pissing off people who think it’s wrong.”
“Do you think it’s wrong?”
“What? Living with my boyfriend? No.”