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“Want me to go inside with you to explain?” He asked.
“Nope, I can face this on my own.”
He leaned over the seat and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. “Get before your dad comes outside. He’s at the window.”
“Shit,” I responded. Then I saw him too. My dad was not happy with me.
“I really think I should go inside and apologize. You made my sister happy. I really appreciate that.”
“I’ll explain. If I had my phone I would have called.”
Cal frowned at me. “You could have used my phone, Abby.”
“I didn’t think of that. I was having such a good time, Cal.”
He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Go, before he comes outside to drag you inside.”
I laughed. “Mom wouldn’t let him do that.”
I got out of the car and peeked in one last time. Cal winked at me causing that familiar flutter of emotion in my belly to stir and take flight. I smiled at him then told him goodbye one last time not wanting to leave but I had to go inside and face the music and procrastinating wasn’t going to help my dad’s mood.
At the front door, I looked back because Cal was still sitting in the driveway. His hand rested on the steering wheel, in a casual, cool sort of way. He was waiting for me to go inside. I waved. He smiled. Finally, I opened the door and went inside. Cal wasn’t leaving until I was gone. I peeked through the sidelight and watched him backing out.
Then I turned and saw Dad at the entrance to the family room. Mom was walking down the hall. She didn’t appear to be as angry as he was.
“You’re grounded for a month,” he said with barely controlled anger.
I started to protest then I saw her hold her hand up telling me to be quiet. “Where have you been?” She asked me and I knew in that moment that she wasn’t angry at all.
“Cal’s sister lost her baby yesterday. She was six months pregnant. She was sad. His mom thought Cal and I could cheer her up. She’s a lot like me. We have so many similar interests, but she’s talkative. They are so different than us.”
Mom’s eyebrow raised at that statement. “They say what’s on their mind. Kind of embarrassing at times,” I explained. She chuckled knowing how easily I embarrassed. What she didn’t realize was that I liked their openness. We always had to keep up appearances. I didn’t like that about us.
“So, you can’t tell time?” Dad asked. His tone was still harsh.
“I was having such a good time with them. I lost track of time. Cal asked what time I had to be home and it was already six-fifteen. I’m sorry, Daddy.” I tried smiling and cocking my head to the side looking sweet and innocent. I hadn’t called him Daddy in over six years.
He scowled. “That isn’t going to work,” Dad declared. “If you’re going out with Cal or any other boy you have to follow the rules, Abigail.” He knew how I hated my full name.
I knew if I rolled my eyes at him, he would just get angrier, so I refrained from any rude gestures. “Fine,” I said but I couldn’t keep the pissy tone out of my voice.
Mom glanced at Dad then she looked at me. “One week. You can go to the game with us but no after game activities.” Dad was really, mad now. “Tyson, it’s her first offense. Cut her some slack.”
He started to walk around me to head to upstairs then he stopped on the bottom step. “No Cal, Abby during this week. He doesn’t bring you home. He doesn’t come here to hang out with you. Nothing, got that?”
This time I did roll my eyes at him.
“Would you like for it to be two weeks?” He asked.
“Nope,” I replied. “I’m good with one week.”
Dad went upstairs after that. I glanced down the hall where Mom leaned against the wall. Her long legs were bare in short cut offs that she wouldn’t be caught in outside of this house. She wasn’t wearing shoes either. I liked her like this. All natural and pretty.
Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. Her tank top was tight on her slender frame. She was hot. I had a MILF for a Mom and I loved this look on her. I wished she would dress like this more often. Dressed down. More natural. I shook my head and followed her to the kitchen.
“So, you like Cal?” She asked as I slid onto a barstool.
“I do.” I decided not to tell her how much or what we were doing in his room. Not much but enough that she might not like it.
