Wasn’t this a chick thing—worrying about clothes and what other kids thought? Being the father of a boy, I always figured I wouldn’t have to worry about such things, but I was quickly realizing that middle school was an exception to the rule. It made everyone nervous, gender be damned.
After we got home and Noah raced upstairs to most likely play video games, I shuffled into the living room, still brimming with my grandmother’s antiques and handmade doilies, and I tried to remember what it was like to be Noah’s age. Taking a peek out the window where I’d watched Liv disappear into her own house minutes earlier, I recalled that eager, nervous feeling I’d had when starting a new school and settling into a completely different way of life.
Middle school was the big leagues as far as any kid was concerned. It was when a kid would put away dolls or action figures and grow up. It was a hard middle road, one that I still recalled living. Even though I couldn’t remember making my mother buy me clothes or worrying about my haircut for the first day of school, I did remember coming home and racing up the stairs to play with my favorite toy and realizing I couldn’t—or shouldn’t.
What if the other kids found out? Would they call me a baby?
Sadly, I had packed everything up and stuffed it under my bed, saying good-bye to the little boy I’d been the day before.
I guessed Noah had been doing the same thing all summer.
The familiar sound reminding me of wild elephants alerted me that my son was flying down those ancient wooden steps once again. No matter how many times I’d reminded him, he’d always take them two at a time and race down as if he were being hunted by an ax murderer.
“Hey, Dad! Bye, Dad!” he announced before running to the door. A stuffed backpack was slung over his shoulder.
“Hold on!” I called out, halting him mid-step.
He turned just before he reached the front entrance, and a smug grin was on his face.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked, wrapping my arms across my chest.
This was my fierce, imposing dad pose. It was supposed to cause fear and rampant obedience. It wasn’t working. He didn’t look threatened.
“I’m spending the night at Leah and Declan’s house. They have a son around my age. His name is Connor. He likes soccer, too, and baseball and Xbox.”
My head hurt. Too many words were coming out of his mouth at once.
“You mean Liv’s friend Leah—the one I’ve never met?” I asked.
“Yep.” He shrugged.
So damn confused.
“And you’re spending the night?”
“Yeah, Liv called and said Leah and Declan had a son named Connor, and he really wanted to meet me, so they invited me over to spend the night. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Uh…”
“So, I’m gonna go. Leah is picking me up, and she just texted to say she’s outside. I sent you the number. It’s on your phone. See you tomorrow! Bye!”
Then, he was gone, just like that.
What the hell?
I stood there in a daze. I turned back to the window and watched as a beautiful blonde woman around Liv’s age greeted my son. A young boy got out of the car, and he waved at Noah. Minutes later, they were gone.
I’d been dragged through the mall for hours with nothing more than a crappy hot dog to keep me going. I’d spent hundreds of dollars on clothes my son apparently needed to feel grounded and better about this life-altering shift in his existence.
Now, Liv had taken it upon herself to send him away for a bros’ sleepover—without my permission.
I was not in a good mood.
Stalking forward, I yanked the door by the handle and stomped forward. That woman was about to get a piece of my mind. We might be close, but there were lines, and this was one of them.
I didn’t bother knocking on her door. Knowing she would have locked it, I fished out the key she’d given me after last week, and I slipped it in before turning the knob and stepping inside.
The house was quiet. There was no sign of Liv anywhere.
“Liv!” I shouted. “Where are you?”
“Upstairs,” she responded, seeming unfazed by my abrupt appearance.
Grumbling, I headed for the stairs, practicing my speech as I went. I would tell her how much I appreciated her help, how I understood her love for Noah, but I was the parent, so I made the decisions.
She would understand.
As I took the last step onto the top floor, I noticed an amber glow reflecting off the oak hardwood just outside Liv’s bedroom. It flickered and danced along the floorboards, creating a pattern all its own. Walking farther, I noticed the origin of the lights. Candles lined the entire entryway of her bedroom and beyond. Treading softly, I entered, seeing the same flickering pattern from the hallway dancing up the walls and across the bed—where I found her.
Covered in satin and lace, she looked like a divine virgin sacrifice ready to give up her mortal soul.
“Sweet Jesus,” I cursed.
Bad mood gone.
The only thoughts running through my mind were Liv, lace, and mine.
“You’re drooling,” she said, her lips curving into a smug grin.