Part 66 (1/2)
She shrugs and pulls the tray of chicken in front of her, slathers the pieces in the buffalo sauce lining the bottom of the tinfoil pan, and scoops up great big gobs of blue cheese dressing before gobbling them down. I resolve to eat some pizza before I lose my appet.i.te from watching.
”d.a.m.n,” Apollo blurts out, ”This is better than I expected.”
”It's Antonio's. Local place. They know me.”
The three of us eat in silence. Charity eats almost all the chicken, but Apollo tries it and eats the rest, complete with the dressing, while I polish off half a triple cheese meat sensation pizza by myself. Antonio is creative with his naming. When Charity finishes eating, she wanders back into the sitting room and sprawls out on the couch, thankfully laying on her side as she begins to snore.
”She's going to have a monster headache in the morning,” Apollo notes, peering past me to watch her. ”She only has her mother?”
”Yeah, her Dad was killed in Iraq.”
A pall falls over the room.
”Oh. s.h.i.+t.”
”You didn't know. She's a mess. Charity's uncle does a lot for them, gave her the job. She'll probably take over the shop one day. She likes it.”
”She have a boyfriend?”
”No. She did but they broke up when he moved away.”
”How about you.”
”No, I don't have time for-”
He's grinning.
Oh.
I turn beet red. ”As I was saying, no time. You don't get a 4.0 average at a private school by twiddling your thumbs. It took a lot of work.”
”School's over, right? You can let your hair down.”
”Hardly. Now I have to go to college.”
He turns solemn, staring at nothing. ”That's how it is, isn't it? You finish one thing and then there's another thing and something else after that, and it's like all the time between them just goes up in smoke.”
I get up and move to the fridge, to grab another soda. As I pa.s.s he catches my wrist, lightly, and pulls me to him. A squeak jumps out of me as I fall right in his lap, wide-eyed. Our faces are inches apart. I can feel his breath tickle my chin, warm my lips. Holy c.r.a.p he's handsome, like model handsome. Just looking at him makes my heart flutter, and more than that, I feel a stir between my legs that makes me bite my lip and rub my thighs together, like an itch.
Then he kisses me.
Sparks fly. The world swims around me, and I feel something I've never felt before. This is supposed to be happening. Right now there is a center to the universe, and it is in this room. I slip my arms around him, and he feels so warm under that tight s.h.i.+rt. His arms fall around me, settle around my waist and I breathe against him, pressing my chest to his. The kiss deepens and I feel like I'm falling into a pool of warm syrup, heat flus.h.i.+ng through my body.
As first kisses go, this is pretty good.
Then I hear my mother's voice, and soft laughter, then concerned voices. Mom walks into the sitting room with her new boyfriend, and they contemplate the drunken girl with the buffalo sauce smeared on her lips currently lying on the one hundred and ten year old antique couch, and then they both look at us.
Still sitting in Apollo's lap, I smile weakly. ”Uh, hi, Mom.”
”Hi, Dad,” Apollo says.
Wait, what?
Chapter 5: Apollo.
Well, this is a problem.
I remember this happening when I was in ninth grade. I had an erection and I had to stand up for some reason. That was merely embarra.s.sing, this is a little different. This isn't one of those involuntary teenage b.o.n.e.rs. I have a raging hard-on from Diana sitting on my lap. I very slowly move my hand down her side, away from her breast, as our parents stare at us. When she moves on top of me to swing her legs around and stand up, it's agony. I want her right now, bent over the table, and I don't care who sees. It takes everything I've got not to pull her back into my lap. As she stands up I cough and try to figure out what the h.e.l.l I'm going to do. I could try a reach-and-tuck while they're all distracted. As I stand up, I poke Diana right in the b.u.t.t. She flinches and glances over her shoulder at me.
”So,” she says. ”Hi.”
”This is awkward,” I mutter.
Her mother speaks in clipped tones. ”Diana. Upstairs. Now.”
I turn around and smooth back my hair with one hand, and tuck myself up with the other. It'll have to do. Dear G.o.d, please don't let Diana's mother look at my crotch.
”What are you doing here?” Dad asks.
”It's a long story...”
He sighs and folds his arms over his chest. I can't tell if he's acting or not. He may genuinely be mad or he may expect me to play along. Either way the safest option is to act naturally.
”I ran into Diana at the bookstore. Her friend,” I nod towards the pa.s.sed out goth on the couch, ”was at this party at this kid Lucas' house. We went to get her,” I consciously leave out the bit of tossing Lucas and his friends around, ”and ended up eating some take-out.”
”You neglected to mention the part where you groped my daughter,” Diana's mother (Carol, right?) chimes in, scowling at me.
”I, uh, didn't know she was your daughter...”
I must have carried the lie off well enough. She looks stern until she catches a hint of a smile on my father's face, and a little smirk cracks on hers. She is actually pretty, Diana's mom, but doesn't hold a candle to her daughter. I s.h.i.+ft on my feet, stick my hands in my pockets and look apologetic and sheepish.
”Have you been drinking?”
”No. She has,” I nod out to the living room. ”We didn't attend the party. We just went to get her.”
Carol scowls at me. ”How old are you?”
”Twenty.”
”My daughter is eighteen years old, young man.”
”Uh, good?”
Her scowl turns into a sneer, and Dad grabs her arm.
”It's fine, hon. Just a... misunderstanding. I'm sure it won't be a problem in the future, will it?”