Turning Home (A Small Town Novel) Page 5

  “Look, honey, I know leaving home for school can be stressful,” she began. Giving me her best motherly tone that I knew was as fake as her nails, she continued, “… but running away from your problems will not solve them, and that’s not how your father and I raised you. If you’re stressed about something, you need to find a way to fix what’s bothering you.”

  I wondered what she would say if I told her it was her and my daddy bothering me. What sort of advice would she give me about fixing that problem?

  “I wasn’t … running,” I told her, trying to keep my voice low. “I just felt like driving around with the windows down. It’s beautiful out today, and once I’m in school I won’t have a lot of free time.”

  “Oh,” she said, her tone brightening. “I used to do that all the time when I was your age. There’s just something so freeing about blaring the radio while the wind whips your hair, isn’t there?”

  My face scrunched in confusion. My mother had never admitted to doing anything fun when she was my age. Most of her stories consisted of how much she had helped the community and the importance of using sunscreen so I didn’t ruin my youthful skin. I tried to picture my mother when she was eighteen and what she must have been like, but the only picture that popped into my head was June Cleaver. My mind was a confusing place sometimes.

  “Well … you should head home.” Her regular uptight voice was back in place. “James is waiting.”

  The line went dead, and I pulled my cell away to stare at the screen. What the hell had just happened?

  “Time for Cinderella to get home?”

  I turned at Dylan’s voice. He was still standing in the same spot, his face a mask of indifference. I had no idea what I was doing entertaining the idea of anything happening between the two of us, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret coming today.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry to cut this short.”

  His broad shoulders lifted up and down in a slow shrug. “I should head back to work anyway.”

  I took a step toward him, fidgeting with my phone in my hands. I didn’t want to go home and deal with my mother or James. When it seemed like he wasn’t going to say anything else, I gave him one last look and turned around to head for my car.

  “Meet me tonight?” I called after Brooke. I hadn’t planned to see her again. After that kiss, I knew it would never be enough, and I couldn’t use her like I used the others. All that sweet innocence wasn’t meant for someone like me.

  She turned, smiling at me over her shoulder, and I felt my own lips mimicking hers. She was so fucking beautiful and struck me like a bolt of lightning when she looked at me like that. I knew I didn’t deserve that look, but it didn’t stop me from wanting it.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “It’s a surprise,” I said. “Pick you up at seven?”

  Her smile faltered, and I knew why. She didn’t want me coming to her house, to reveal with whom she was spending her time. It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did. I knew my place, and it wasn’t on the Kingsley’s side of town. I needed to remember that—maybe one of these times it would stick.

  “I’d rather meet you, just in case I need a quick escape.” Her eyes were playful, but she chewed on her bottom lip, the telltale sign of her nervousness. “If I can even make it. I’m supposed to start packing.”

  I smirked at her coyness. I knew, just like I had today, that she would make it. Now that we weren’t just stealing glances at one another or accidentally-on-purpose running into one another in town, she would take the opportunity to spend as much time with me as possible. After the party, my little game of teasing her turned into something more. Today had been fun, albeit short, and I didn’t want to say goodbye, yet. I needed to explore her.

  I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket and tapped on the camera button. Holding my arm out, I snapped a quick picture of Brooke and examined it. She had her body half turned, strands of her hair blowing against her ivory skin and an embarrassed smile on her face.

  “What’s your number? I’ll text you the details.” I looked up at her through my eyelashes. “You know, just in case you can make it.”

  As she rattled off her number, I punched it into my cell and saved her in my contacts as Princess.

  “Got it.” I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed back to the pond to retrieve the fishing poles, blanket, and tackle box. When I looked back at Brooke, she was halfway to her car, but peeked over her shoulder at me, quickly turning around. I laughed to myself, knowing I was in way over my stupid head.

  * * * *

  “Party at old man Baker’s barn tonight,” Jase said, walking into my room eating a cold piece of pizza. He was freshly showered and was wearing his rebel flag t-shirt that had a bloodstain from when he got in a bar fight.

  “I have plans.” I was stretched out on my bed, my back against the headboard and my guitar in my hands. I strummed a few chords, adjusting a couple of the keys. I ran my fingers over the strings, smiling at the tune. When I needed to get out of my head, I turned to music. Right now, my head was one huge clusterfuck of thoughts—all of Brooke.

  “With the princess?” Jase leaned against the doorframe, shoving the last of the pizza into his filter-free mouth.

  “I don’t think she’s as much of a princess as everyone accuses her of being.”

  Jase smiled, revealing cheese and marina sauce covered teeth. “Dude, seriously?”

  I ignored him and concentrated on the song, strumming and closing my eyes as I mentally sung the words. My eyes shot open when Jase punched me in the arm.

  “Fuck, man.”

  Jase sat on the edge of my bed, brushing the crumbs from his shirt. “So, are we gonna dish like two chicks, or what? What happened today?”

  I knew spilling any details to Jase was a mistake. He wouldn’t only make fun of me; he would make sure all of our friends knew. I’d be labeled a hard-up fool until another idiot did something dumber to draw attention away from me. The thing was, I was so confused that I needed his insight. If anyone could make me see reason, it was Jase.

  “I took her to Lilac Pond and taught her how to fish.”

  Jase waggled his eyebrows. “I bet you did. Did she shriek when she saw your worm?” He slapped the side of my leg. “Oh … or more importantly, did she take the bait?”

  Why in the world did I think this Neanderthal would offer sound advice?

  “No, we literally fished.” I thought about how cute she looked when she tried to cast her pole before failing miserably.

  “What is that?” Jase pointed a finger at my face.

  “What?”

  “That look,” he said. “Wait, do you actually like her? Brooke fucking Kingsley?”

  “Nah, man. I just get a kick out of watching her get uncomfortable. You should have seen her face when she found out we were going to fish.”

  Jase studied me for a little bit. “Look, man,” he began. “She’s hot as fuck, so I get it. Go ahead and hang out with her. Hell, sleep with her if she lets you, but don’t go getting any frilly ideas about you and her. She’s on a whole other level than us and is probably just hanging out with you to piss off Daddy for buying the wrong Mercedes or some shit. Don’t let her get inside your head. You and I both know people like them don’t end up with people like us. You know that better than anyone.”

  I nodded and said, “You’re right, man.”

  “Damn right I am.” He stood up. “Now let’s go drink some beer and find you a woman in your league.”

  I smiled, setting my guitar off to the side and stood up. “Thanks, man,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Brooke Kingsley … what the hell was I thinking?”

  “Are you expecting a call from someone?” my daddy asked, raising his fork to his lips. We were having one of our rare family dinners. Normally it was just my mother and I at the dinner table, but tonight Daddy made it home at a decent hour. James sat next to me, his hand having slipped onto my leg again. I had already
removed it three times.

  “No, why?”

  “That’s the fourth time you’ve checked your phone,” Daddy’s voice held its normal disapproving tone.

  It was a quarter ‘til eight, and Dylan still hadn’t sent me a text with the details of where he wanted to meet. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to, but I kept hoping something was wrong with my phone. I had a bad habit of letting the battery run out.

  My daddy shot my mother a glare as though it was her fault I had broken their rule about no cell phones at the table. I thought about the tears I had seen her crying this morning and wondered why she stayed with my daddy.

  “Brooke, please put your phone away.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I stood up and exited the dining room. When I rounded the corner, I leaned against the pale yellow wall of the hallway and clutched my cell to my chest. I’d been too embarrassed to ask Dylan for his number. I knew I would never be forward enough to invite him to do anything. Half of my brain still thought I had made up last night and this morning. After years of crushing on Dylan Crawford, it just seemed surreal to have his actual attention.

  I checked my phone one more time, noting the full battery and reception. Grimacing, I dropped it into my purse on the hallway bench and headed back to the dining room. My daddy and James were avidly talking about football while my mother knocked back her third glass of red wine. I toyed with my food, pushing it around my plate with my fork. My mind had been on that kiss with Dylan since I left him at Lilac Pond. I had felt so alive in that moment, as though his lips were a livewire jumpstarting my sleeping state.

  “Brooke, did you hear me?”

  My eyes snapped up from my plate to meet my daddy’s. His light brown hair reminded me of James’s—parted to the side—and his blue eyes were so blue they almost looked purple. His face was thin with sharp features. Tonight he wore a green polo with the country club’s logo embroidered over the chest and a pair of khakis.

  “No, sir,” I said, apologizing.

  “What is going on in that head of yours tonight?” When I didn’t respond, he continued, “I asked you if you signed up for the Open Hearts Charity, yet. They only take so many volunteers, and it fills up quickly. You need to make all four years at UA count so that when you apply for law school at Yale, you’ll be a shoo-in. Not that any daughter of mine wouldn’t be. I am an important alumnus there.”

  My parents had my schooling—like everything else—planned out for me. After UA, where I would follow my mother’s legacy, I would transfer to Yale to study law, following in my daddy’s footsteps. His dream was that he and I would be partners in his law firm someday. I could barely stand having dinner with him—forget working alongside him every day. I always wished they had had more children so that some of the pressure would have been evenly distributed rather than all of it landing on my shoulders.

  “Yes, sir,” I lied. “I called them Monday and have an appointment to meet with them next week.”

  A big smile spread across my daddy’s face, a rare sight in our household. “Very good.”

  A cell phone rang and both my parents’ eyes landed on me accusingly.

  “Sorry, sir,” James said, standing up and pulling his phone from his pocket. “I thought I turned the ringer off.”

  My daddy’s icy glare thawed, and he waved off James’s apology. “No problem, son. Go ahead and take your call.”

  My lips parted, my tongue wanting to spout off how they had just bitched at me for checking my phone, but I was used to Daddy’s ridiculous love of my boyfriend. It was why I hadn’t broken up with him yet. The best time to do it would be once we were at school—far away from my daddy’s disapproving lectures.

  When James exited the dining room, my father said, “You have a good one there. Boy’s gonna take Alabama to the championship. I wouldn’t be surprised if the NFL came calling as soon as he’s of age.”

  This wasn’t the first time I had heard my father gush over James’s football career. I had gotten good at tuning him out. I wondered what he would say if he saw the way James was looking at those two slutty dancers last night. Knowing my daddy, he would give me the ‘boys will be boys’ line. It wasn’t like he was a model of the male species. I thought about what Dylan said about James drugging my drink. I had meant to ask Dylan about it today to see if he was being honest or lying simply because he didn’t like James. For the two years I’d been with James, I’d never seen him so much as smoke a cigarette. He rarely drank, and when he did, he limited himself to three—max.

  “That was my mother,” James said, coming back into the room. “She wanted to know if Brooke and I would help with decorations for Courtney’s wedding tonight.”

  “Actually,” I said, “I’m kinda tired, and I would like to start packing the last of my stuff so it’s all ready for when we leave.”

  That got me another round of stern glares from my parents. “Don’t be rude, Brooke,” my mother said. “She would be happy to help you and your mother,” she told James.

  I sucked in a deep breath through my nose and rose from my chair. There was no use arguing over the subject. After excusing ourselves, James and I walked out to his silver BMW in silence. There had been a lot of silence between the two of us recently—just a peek at what our marriage would be like.

  I slipped into the passenger’s side when James opened my door for me and watched as he walked around the car. James was good-looking: six-foot, lean and muscular with all-American features, but he didn’t turn me on like a certain dark-haired boy did. He was everything about my world I didn’t like: materialistic, entitled, and shallow. After two years I still wasn’t sure if we even knew each other.

  “I lied,” James said, starting the car.

  “About what?”

  He reached over and grabbed my hand, bringing it to rest high on his lap. I cringed at how close my fingers were to his crotch.

  “That wasn’t my mother who called. It was Grayson. There’s a huge party over at the Bakers’ farm.”

  I frowned. “What is Grayson doing hanging out over there?”

  James smiled as though he held some piece of juicy gossip. “I think he’s hooking up with that girl, Bonnie Carol.”

  “Really? How long has that been going on?”

  James shrugged, shifting our hands so that my fingers inched closer to his crotch. “Not sure. He and Aimee broke up a month ago.”

  Grayson was one of James’s best friends and had been dating a girl from our social circle. The rumor was that Aimee refused to put out so Grayson dumped her. Bonnie Carol was from Dylan’s side of town. I had seen her around school but never met her. As far as I knew, she was sweet and shy. She didn’t seem like the type to readily put out.

  When James moved my hand again, I scoffed and pulled it from his grasp. “What are you doing?”

  “What?” James exclaimed. “We’ve been dating for a year, Brooke, and you freak out anytime I try to take us further.”

  “Maybe because you go about it the wrong way,” I snapped. “You don’t just grab my hand and place it on your … crotch.”

  “Well, when we’re making out you push me away, too. I don’t know what’s been up with you lately, but I’m not going to wait around forever, Brooke.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I either have sex with you, or you’re going to dump me like Grayson did to Aimee?” I wondered if he heard the hopefulness in my voice. If he broke up with me, it would save me a load of lectures from my father.

  He let out an aggravated huff, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just … don’t you want to? Almost all of your friends put out for their boyfriends.”

  It was true; in my circle of friends I was one of the last still holding out. I had never really thought about sex. I had never felt the urge to take our relationship further. After kissing Dylan today, I knew why. James had never gotten my body to respond to him the way Dylan had. There just wasn’t any chemistry between us. I
didn’t want to sleep with him just because my friends were sleeping with their boyfriends. I needed more. People always said you remembered your first. Did I really want to remember James for the rest of my life, knowing I was dreading our future together in the first place?

  “I’m not ready to have sex with you, James. If you want to break up over it, I’ll understand.”

  He took a right turn that led down a long dirt road, leading to old man Baker’s barn. The interior of the car was dark, but I was sure James’s face was stretched in tightness.

  “Just like that? You’ll understand? Do you know how many girls would love to be with me, Brooke? You act as though you couldn’t care less.” He blew out a breath. “I don’t understand you.”

  “And I don’t understand why you always have to make a big deal out of this. I’ve told you I’m not ready.”

  “Because you’re driving me insane, Brooke. You can’t turn a guy on and then slam on the brakes. You’re lucky I’ve put up with it this long.”

  By the time James pulled into the field of the party, I was already ready to go home. I did not want to drink and dance with James, knowing he would only try to change my mind again.

  “Why don’t you just take me back home,” I said. “I’m not in the partying mood.”

  James took the keys from the ignition and snorted as he got out of the car. He held onto the door and leaned down to speak to me.

  “I need a drink. Why don’t you wait here until I’m ready to leave, or find someone else to take you home.”

  I flinched when he slammed the door and watched as he headed toward the barn where a large crowd of people danced and partied.

  I waited twenty minutes before climbing out of the car and heading toward the barn to find someone to drive me home. The Bakers’ farm was just an old barn in the middle of a field, forgotten after a tornado had taken out the Bakers’ house five years ago. Now, kids used it as a place to party.