Interesting. “I haven’t gotten that far, but I’ll let you know if I do since we’re friends and all.”
An image plays in my mind of lifting the back of Beth’s shirt to reveal her skin, my caress causing her to smile. I bet her skin is smooth, like petals. My fingers fidget with the desire to touch Beth and my blood warms with the idea of her whispering my name. Damn.
The girl really does turn me on. I run a hand over my head, trying to rid my mind of the thought. What the hell?
“Ryan. I’m not kidding. She’s not your
type.”
“Then tell me who is.” I say it with more anger than intended, but I’m tired of the game.
“Not her, okay?” Gwen pleads.
The image of touching Beth taunts and
confuses me. Three quick raps on my door and HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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Mom enters. “I’ve gotta go.”
“`Night,” Gwen says with disappointment.
Mom wears a matching blue blazer and
skirt. She attended a women-only dinner with the mayor’s wife this evening. “Am I interrupting?”
“No.” I toss my phone onto the bedside
table.
“You sounded a little upset.” Mom walks
over to my dresser, appraises her reflection in the mirror, then readjusts her pearl necklace. “I could hear you in the hallway.”
I shake my head. “Just Gwen.”
Her hands freeze on her necklace and a
smile curves her lips. “Are you together again?”
“No.” Mom loved Gwen and I think the
breakup was hardest on her.
She continues her grooming. “You should
consider it. I heard that both you and Gwen were nominated for homecoming court.”
News travels at lightning speed in our town.
“Yeah.”
“You know, your father and I were
nominated for homecoming courts. Both fall and winter.”
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“Yep.” She mentioned it. A million times.
They won both times too. If her continued retelling of the events didn’t refresh my memory, the pictures hanging in the family room of them dancing with crowns on is a good reminder.
“I also heard that Scott Risk’s niece was nominated.”
“Uh-huh.” If Mom knows everything, then
why is she bothering me?
“What are your thoughts on the niece? Her aunt, Allison Risk, has asked to be nominated for the empty seat on the church event committee.”
And there’s my answer. Respectability. If Beth is an outcast, then Beth’s guardians will be considered bad parents. Mom wants the prestige of nominating Scott Risk’s wife, but she doesn’t want the scandal of nominating the guardian of the “bad girl.” Both Mom and Dad’s families have been members of this community since the first foundations of home and church were laid hundreds of years ago.
The Stones are a legacy.
“She’s interesting.”
Mom turns. “Interesting. What does that
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mean?”
I shrug. It means that Beth’s in the way of my winning a dare. It means she tries my patience. It means I want to see her tattoo.
“Interesting.”
Mom rubs her forehead in frustration. “Fine.
She’s interesting. If you discover another word, you know where to find me.”
Yep, I do. If in public, she’ll be right next to Dad. In private, the exact opposite of where Dad will be. Mom pauses at the door frame.
“And Ryan, I talked to Mrs. Rowe this
evening.”
I dip my head and briefly close my eyes. Not good. Not good at all. “Uh-huh.”
“She’s curious as to when you’ll be turning in your paperwork for the final writing competition in Lexington.”
Damn. I raise my head, but my shoulders
stay slumped as I look at Mom. “I’m not doing it. It interferes with ball.”
Mom stiffens. “Was that your father’s
decision or yours?”
“Mine.” The word comes out fast. The last thing I want is for them to get into another twelve-round fight, especially over me.
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“I’m sure it was.” Mom gives a
dismissive wave.
Something inside me snaps. “Logan saw
Mark in Lexington a few weeks ago. He asked about us.”
Mom becomes uncharacteristically still.
“Logan knows, Mom. So does Chris.”
Fury flashes over her face. “If your father finds out you told anyone…If anyone in town finds out…”
“They won’t tell.”
She closes her eyes for a second as she
releases air. “Please remember what happens in this house stays in this house. Chris and Logan are your friends. They are not family.”
A simmering anger settles at the bottom of my stomach. How can she shut out her emotions for her oldest son? “Don’t you miss him?”
“Yes.” Her immediate answer catches me off guard. “But there’s too much at stake.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
Mom scans my room. Her eyes linger on my posters. “I think I’m going to redo your room.
Blue isn’t your color.”
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Beth