The discomfort of having my parents watch this exchange fades to the background when his eyes lift to mine. “You ready to go?”
A broad grin takes over my face as I nod.
“Not yet!” my mother cries from behind me. “We need pictures!”
With the grin still on my face, I roll my eyes comically at Clay, and am relieved when he winks in return. I know this is lame, especially to him. To be honest, I’m surprised he’d wanted to go to prom at all. It’s not exactly his thing.
Together, we follow my mother out onto the front lawn, where she subjects us to an embarrassingly brutal ten-minute photo shoot. As we pose, it doesn’t escape my notice that while my father had followed us outside, he hasn’t said a single word, and he looks nothing less than disapproving. I know that when he looks at Clay, all he sees is his messy hair and his eyebrow ring. Maybe it’s the spacers in his earlobes, or the bit of tattoo that is poking out of the neckline of his shirt. It’s good that Clay is wearing a collar, because since he turned eighteen four months ago, he’s been a regular at the tattoo parlor in town, and is accumulating some amazing artwork on his skin. My father would have a stroke.
With the photo shoot out of the way, Clay walks me to his father’s Cadillac and opens the door for me to get in.
“Have her back by eleven,” my father orders, a growl in his already deep voice.
“Make that twelve,” my mother pipes up from behind him, giving me a wink. My father turns to glare at her, but doesn’t say another word.
As we pull away from my house, towards what would turn out to be the most incredible first date ever, Clay gives me a broad grin.
“So…your dad hates me.”
I chuckle and shake my head, leaning across the center console to place a loud smacking kiss on his cheek. “He’ll come around.”
Chapter 3
Knives and forks scrape against the china plates, and nobody says a word, except for the occasional request to ‘pass the butter.’ This was a bad idea. We shouldn’t have come here, but it’s too late now. We’re here, smack in the middle of the most uncomfortable meal I’ve ever been to. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. The silence and discomfort are so thick, I feel like I’m choking.
“Daddy, are you ever going to talk to me?”
My father’s fork pauses midway to his mouth, and his eyes fall closed. I wait quietly, the lump in my throat burning me from the inside out. “Not now, I’m not.”
“Look—”
My father’s hand shoots up, effectively silencing me as his eyes pop open. “Let’s just try and get through this meal for now, okay?”
His voice isn’t filled with anger, but with defeat and sadness. I hate that he feels this way because of me. I hate that he won’t talk to me so we can fix it.
“So, where are you two living now, Clay?” my mother asks.
Clay smirks as he finishes chewing his food, knowing that she’s only asking him to change the subject. “Just a few blocks over, actually. We moved in last week.”
A loud clatter rings throughout the room as my father drops his silverware to the table and pushes his chair back. Standing, he dabs the corners of his mouth with his napkin, then drops it on his plate and walks out.
My heart plummets.
*
Ten Years Ago
“And this is my bedroom,” Clay says, his eyebrows wagging suggestively. I know he’s teasing, but the grin on his face has me flushing at the thought of what we could do on that bed over in the corner.
We’ve officially been together for almost a year now, and I can honestly say that I love this boy more than air. I love his gruff charm, the way he smirks when I blush, knowing full well he’s got me flustered. I love how he smells of leather and soap, all mixed with the grease from the old motorcycle he spends so much time fixing. I even love the way he smells my hair to calm himself when he’s having a shit day, like I’m the only thing that can do that for him.
I’ve been sneaking dates with Clay since prom. Nothing too extravagant, but we try to get out once every couple weeks. Of course, my father forbids this, so I have to fabricate fake study sessions with my friends to get away from the house undetected. I’m still amazed I haven’t been caught, but I have no intention of stopping.
But this is the first time I’ve ever dared to have a sleepover. I’d told my parents I was staying over at Kerri’s tonight, and we were going to stay up late, watching old movies. My father doesn’t like me being away overnight anywhere, but he’d relented, against his better judgement. Kerri had shown up at the house, picked me up, and brought me straight over to Clay’s house, where his parents just happened to be away for the night. They had gone to some motorcycle rally in another state, and weren’t expected to be home until Tuesday.
And now we’re here. In his bedroom. Alone.