“That’s embarrassing,” I mumbled, and pulled my hand from Mark’s, placing it over my stomach.
“What else can I feed you?” he asked.
“Anything,” I replied. I climbed off his lap and walked to the kitchen.
I felt better and less anxious to be in his apartment. I think that’s why he made me sit on his lap while we talked. He wanted us to get familiar quickly to make it easier for me, less frightening. And it was. I’d already stuffed my face in front of him. Plus he heard my stomach growl twice.
“You can have whatever you want,” Mark said, opening the pantry door.
My eyes immediately went for the Trix.
“I’m having a hard time with this,” I said.
“With what?”
“You make a sophisticated shrimp dinner and eat kids’ cereal for breakfast,” I replied. “Weird.”
“Cadence, I value your opinions. I really do. But don’t make fun of my cereal choices.”
I turned to face him. He grinned at me.
“I like Trix. I’m gonna have a bowl of them, actually. But before I do, will you do something for me?”
“Yes.”
“Will you hold me like you did in your classroom yesterday?”
Mark didn’t hesitate. He wrapped me in his arms and picked me up. I liked being suspended, held like a baby doll. It was effortless for him, like I weighed no more than a bird. I buried my face in his neck, and he spun me slowly, round and round.
“When will you kiss me?” I asked into his neck.
“Soon, Cadence,” Mark replied. “But not today.”
“Is it because my breath smells like garlic?”
He chuckled. “Nah.”
“I’ll be scared,” I said. “When you kiss me.”
“So will I,” he replied.
“But you want to kiss me, right?”
“More than anything, Cadence.”
He rocked me playfully side to side, and I relaxed my legs, letting them swing like cooked noodles.
“I like you very much,” I said, resting the side of my head on his shoulder.
“That’s good,” Mark replied. “Because I like you very much, too.”
I hugged him tighter, and he backed me against the counter, setting me down, standing between my spread legs. He stood there for a moment, hands resting on my hips, studying me.
“You have gorgeous skin,” he said after a time. “The prettiest I’ve ever seen.”
“I do?”
He smirked. “You know you do. And yes, it’s like porcelain.”
I touched my cheek.
“Don’t ever tan or anything like that. Don’t ruin your skin.”
I furrowed my brows. “That’s a weird thing to say.”
“No, it’s not. I’m just giving you some advice.”
“Okay, Marie Claire,” I joked.
“Who’s she?”
“You’re such a guy,” I said, giggling. “It’s a girl’s magazine. About fashion and relationships and skincare and stuff.”
He nodded and opened the cabinet above me. He pulled out a bowl and handed it to me, then walked to the pantry for the box of Trix.
“For kids, right?” I asked playfully, taking the box.
“Not funny,” Mark said. “Nothing about you is childish.”
I squirmed, feeling a rush of something very not childlike between my legs.
Mark watched me fill my bowl to the brim with cereal, and when I poured in the milk, some Trix spilled over the sides, scattering on the counter.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and reached for them.
“It’s okay,” he said, and picked them up, popping them one by one into his mouth. “I plan on sharing a lot of cereal with you. This is a good start.”
I ate the entire bowl of Trix without talking. Mark watched me, and I should have been self-conscious, but I wasn’t. I didn’t care. It felt so good to eat and fill my belly. I’d been hungry for too long, I just didn’t know it until now.
“Another?” he asked when I drained the last of the colored milk from my bowl.
I knew I shouldn’t, but I nodded.
“Note to self: Stock the pantry and fridge when Cadence comes over,” Mark said lightly.
I smiled. “Why am I so hungry?”
He poured another generous amount of cereal into my bowl.
“I think it’s because you’re happy,” he replied.
Was he giving himself props?
“And I suppose you think it’s because of you?” I asked, trying for a playful tone.
He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I think it’s because you got a taste of something you like.” His lips brushed my earlobe. “That’s why you’re happy.”
I won’t lie. I was a shaky, sweaty mess walking into class Friday morning. The euphoria I experienced while I was with Mr. Connelly yesterday quickly evaporated the minute I got in my car and headed home.
What the hell was I doing?
The more I mulled over the situation, the more intense my anxiety became—growing at an unnaturally fast rate until my heart was ready to burst. And not the good kind of bursting. The I’m-going-to-completely-ruin-my-life kind of bursting.
I practically ran to my seat, tore my math book open, then sat perfectly still. That’s what animals do, right? They freeze to evade being seen. To avoid being attacked. I thought I’d try it. See if it’d work.
Mr. Connelly walked by my desk on his way to the back of the room.
“Good morning, Cadence,” he said softly.
“Good morning, Mr. Connelly,” I whispered back.
Okay. It didn’t work.
I can’t do this! I can’t do this! I felt my heart aching to let go of the secret. I’m not joking. I had the hideous urge to scream my confession at the top of my lungs: “I visited Mr. Connelly at his apartment yesterday!! I sat on his lap!” Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. I think I could only blame it on this weird urge to tell the truth, something drilled into me since I was little. “Always tell the truth, Cadence,” I could hear my mother say. “The truth will set you free.”