Crushed
Page 64
“Has been unreal,” she agrees. “But what happened next? Did you guys talk? Hug? Did you ask him to go play catch in the park or take you to a baseball game?”
“Yes. And then I called him Dad, and he gave me my first beer and told me what a condom was for, and then we took a bunch of selfies and made a father-son scrapbook.”
Chloe laughs, and the sound is nice. Right. Of course she was the right person to tell. “Seriously, though. Where do you guys stand?”
I shrug. “We’re … he says it’s my call. He told Mariana. She was shocked, obviously, but then she hugged me. Hugged me, Chloe. Her husband had a kid with another woman, and she hugged me.”
“I told you they were good people.”
“Yeah. They are.”
“So then what?”
I shrug. “Then Devon came downstairs. We all had dinner, and it was awkward but nice, you know? They asked a million questions.”
“And I bet you were super forthcoming,” she says sarcastically.
I’m silent for a few minutes, and she props her elbow on the back of the couch, resting her head as she watches me. “What happens now?”
I sit up, leaning forward, holding my beer with both hands and staring at the ground. “I don’t know. In a way, it was anticlimactic, you know? Like this has been building up for nearly a year, and now it’s out there, and the ball’s in my court—”
“Says the tennis pro.”
I’m used to her interruptions, so I keep going. “I told them that I didn’t want to disrupt their family, and Mariana told me I was family now. Just like that. I’m part of their family. It’s not supposed to work that way.”
She puts a hand on my back. “Does it feel good?”
I roll my shoulders. “It’s weird. Like, I have two sets of parents now, and yet I also don’t really have any.”
“You haven’t talked to your mom? Your … Mike, Sr.?”
I grunt. “I’ll call them. Soon.”
She nods. Takes a sip of beer. Belatedly I remember that she doesn’t even like beer.
“You don’t have to drink that,” I say gruffly.
She shrugs. “It’s fine.”
And then we’re just … quiet.
“Thanks for telling me,” she says finally.
“Yeah, well. I figure I kind of owe you.”
She tilts her head in question.
“Devon told me. That it was you who told him to reconsider.”
She holds up a finger. “Actually, what I told him was to stop being a douche.”
“Well, whatever,” I mutter. “I just … thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
There’s no smugness in her tone, no condescension or agenda.
“It’s so easy with you,” I hear myself say.
She laughs. “You sound irritated.”
“I am irritated. You’re just good, Chloe. It’s annoying.”
She blows me a kiss, then her expression grows a little serious. “Hey, while I’m on your good side, there’s something I want to say, too.”
“Shoot.”
“I’m sorry about the other day. And about the Fourth of July.”
“Hey, don’t—”
“No, let me finish.” She holds up a hand.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and if roles were reversed, and it was a guy looking to use a girl for sex, it would be so gross.”
I laugh. “Trust me, Chloe. I can handle it.”
She kicks at me, not all that gently. “You shouldn’t have to. You’re not a piece of meat.”
“Says the girl who calls me Beefcake?”
Her eyes shadow. “I won’t anymore.”
“Hey!” I say, sitting up straight. “Would you stop? I take back what I said about things being easy with you; you’re acting weird and girly.”
She takes a sip of her beer and studies me. “Okay. Fine. Truce? We go back to the way we were before. I still call you Beefcake, but not one that I want a piece of.”
“Does this mean I’m your personal trainer again?”
“Hell, no. I’m paying a shitload of money for a fancy gym to have a bald guy with a Russian accent whip my butt.”
“I see. I’ve been replaced.”
“Totally. But look on the bright side: Our delightfully sweaty time together was going to come to an end anyway. I leave in a couple weeks for school.”
I nod. The thought of a Chloe-less life depresses me more than it should.
She sets her beer on the table and stands. “All right. Drive me home, Jeeves. I want to see if Kristin’s gone snooping through my latest wardrobe additions.”
I set my own beer aside and stand, reaching for my coat. “You know, I can’t say that Kristin and I are on the same page very often, but I’m with her in that you don’t exactly seem like a mall rat.”
“I’m not. At all. But I can’t keep wearing the same ugly shit from my senior year of high school that no longer fits.”
“Usually when girls say their high school stuff doesn’t fit, it’s a bad thing,” I say, grabbing both bottles by their necks and taking them into the kitchen—I’m not a total slob. “You sound happy about it.”
She stops by my front door and turns to face me, her voice happy. “Can I tell you something?”
“Yes. And then I called him Dad, and he gave me my first beer and told me what a condom was for, and then we took a bunch of selfies and made a father-son scrapbook.”
Chloe laughs, and the sound is nice. Right. Of course she was the right person to tell. “Seriously, though. Where do you guys stand?”
I shrug. “We’re … he says it’s my call. He told Mariana. She was shocked, obviously, but then she hugged me. Hugged me, Chloe. Her husband had a kid with another woman, and she hugged me.”
“I told you they were good people.”
“Yeah. They are.”
“So then what?”
I shrug. “Then Devon came downstairs. We all had dinner, and it was awkward but nice, you know? They asked a million questions.”
“And I bet you were super forthcoming,” she says sarcastically.
I’m silent for a few minutes, and she props her elbow on the back of the couch, resting her head as she watches me. “What happens now?”
I sit up, leaning forward, holding my beer with both hands and staring at the ground. “I don’t know. In a way, it was anticlimactic, you know? Like this has been building up for nearly a year, and now it’s out there, and the ball’s in my court—”
“Says the tennis pro.”
I’m used to her interruptions, so I keep going. “I told them that I didn’t want to disrupt their family, and Mariana told me I was family now. Just like that. I’m part of their family. It’s not supposed to work that way.”
She puts a hand on my back. “Does it feel good?”
I roll my shoulders. “It’s weird. Like, I have two sets of parents now, and yet I also don’t really have any.”
“You haven’t talked to your mom? Your … Mike, Sr.?”
I grunt. “I’ll call them. Soon.”
She nods. Takes a sip of beer. Belatedly I remember that she doesn’t even like beer.
“You don’t have to drink that,” I say gruffly.
She shrugs. “It’s fine.”
And then we’re just … quiet.
“Thanks for telling me,” she says finally.
“Yeah, well. I figure I kind of owe you.”
She tilts her head in question.
“Devon told me. That it was you who told him to reconsider.”
She holds up a finger. “Actually, what I told him was to stop being a douche.”
“Well, whatever,” I mutter. “I just … thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
There’s no smugness in her tone, no condescension or agenda.
“It’s so easy with you,” I hear myself say.
She laughs. “You sound irritated.”
“I am irritated. You’re just good, Chloe. It’s annoying.”
She blows me a kiss, then her expression grows a little serious. “Hey, while I’m on your good side, there’s something I want to say, too.”
“Shoot.”
“I’m sorry about the other day. And about the Fourth of July.”
“Hey, don’t—”
“No, let me finish.” She holds up a hand.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and if roles were reversed, and it was a guy looking to use a girl for sex, it would be so gross.”
I laugh. “Trust me, Chloe. I can handle it.”
She kicks at me, not all that gently. “You shouldn’t have to. You’re not a piece of meat.”
“Says the girl who calls me Beefcake?”
Her eyes shadow. “I won’t anymore.”
“Hey!” I say, sitting up straight. “Would you stop? I take back what I said about things being easy with you; you’re acting weird and girly.”
She takes a sip of her beer and studies me. “Okay. Fine. Truce? We go back to the way we were before. I still call you Beefcake, but not one that I want a piece of.”
“Does this mean I’m your personal trainer again?”
“Hell, no. I’m paying a shitload of money for a fancy gym to have a bald guy with a Russian accent whip my butt.”
“I see. I’ve been replaced.”
“Totally. But look on the bright side: Our delightfully sweaty time together was going to come to an end anyway. I leave in a couple weeks for school.”
I nod. The thought of a Chloe-less life depresses me more than it should.
She sets her beer on the table and stands. “All right. Drive me home, Jeeves. I want to see if Kristin’s gone snooping through my latest wardrobe additions.”
I set my own beer aside and stand, reaching for my coat. “You know, I can’t say that Kristin and I are on the same page very often, but I’m with her in that you don’t exactly seem like a mall rat.”
“I’m not. At all. But I can’t keep wearing the same ugly shit from my senior year of high school that no longer fits.”
“Usually when girls say their high school stuff doesn’t fit, it’s a bad thing,” I say, grabbing both bottles by their necks and taking them into the kitchen—I’m not a total slob. “You sound happy about it.”
She stops by my front door and turns to face me, her voice happy. “Can I tell you something?”
