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“I still think you should quit being an architect and become a chef, Mr. E. This is delicious,” Quaid proclaims in between bites.
“Thanks, son. But cooking is just a hobby, not my primary love.” Dad winks at me.
I throw him a smile and take another forkful of my salad, my eyes discreetly lingering on Quaid’s broad frame from time to time. His brown hair is still a bit wet from his shower, but apart from that, he looks incredible in his blue Henley and jeans. All his defined abs are on display, making my mind wander.
“Are you going somewhere after dinner?” Dad asks, voicing the burning question in my mind.
“Yeah. A couple of the guys on the team are going to a back to school party later on, and I said I would tag along,” Quaid replies, grabbing another serving of cannelloni goodness.
I bow my head and keep eating, although each forkful suddenly isn’t as delicious as it was.
“Whose party?”
“Tracy Hollis, a girl in my calculus class. Her folks are out of town for the weekend, so she’s throwing a bash,” Quaid explains, not one bit aware of the jealousy brewing inside of me.
“Will there be alcohol at this party?” Dad interrogates.
“Duh. It wouldn’t be a kegger without a keg,” Quaid jokes, causing my father’s deep frown to come forth.
“I see. Are you going to take your car?”
“How else would I get there?”
“Don’t get cute with me, son. If you’re taking your car, then I hope you are intelligent enough not to drink and drive.”
Quaid’s eyes lift from his plate and look in my dad’s direction.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, old man. Logan is coming, too. He’s going to be the designated driver. I’m not going to go and drink my body weight in alcohol, either. Just have a few beers. That’s all.”
“Hmm. Well, if Logan is going, then I have nothing to worry about. But still, if he drinks, give me a call and I’ll pick you both up. No matter what time it is. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Quaid replies, and I don’t miss how his green eyes soften with my dad’s concern for his well-being.
Quaid is just a few months shy of his eighteenth birthday, and even though he acts like he’s the big man on campus, he’s still a minor who shouldn’t be drinking in the first place. As much as Dad tries to be there for him, he’s not his actual father to forbid him not to drink. I guess I should be content he is taking Dad’s counsel to heart, even if he is going to Tracy Hollis’ stupid party.
Quaid has always been the social butterfly in our group. He likes being the center of attention. He likes it when the kids back at school gawk and admire him. You don’t need a psychologist degree to know that his instant need for validation and adoration stems from his parents being such jerks. They’ve never had much of a presence in his life, nor do they really care that they are absentee parents. It’s been that way since I’ve met him, and neither his mom nor dad have ever tried to remedy that fact. God gave them this wonderful, good-hearted son, and still, they just don’t give a crap about his happiness.
But right now, Quaid’s narcissistic parents are not the reason I’m stewing in silence in my seat. Just the idea of Logan and Quaid going to one of Tracy’s parties irks me to no end.
I’ve heard the rumors.
Her parties always end up with kids hooking up in her various empty bedrooms. It takes all the faith I have in Logan and Quaid not to ask if they have ever been with another girl. But I guess if I truly wanted answers, then I could always go to one of her parties and see for myself. Quaid doesn’t even invite me to go with him anymore. Not that I would go if he did.
I might be on the cheerleading squad, but I know my place. Most of the girls at school look at me like I’m something they want to squash with their high heels. I’m okay with their stares and whispered comments behind my back. Well, maybe not okay, but used to it at least. It’s when this sort of thing happens that I get insecure. When the boys I adore go their separate ways from me.
Dad and Quaid continue to talk about one thing or another, but my mind is too muddled to keep up. All I can think about is all the girls that will be at this party that want a piece of the boys I have given my heart and soul to.
When we finally finish dinner, I’m still in a mood. As usual, Dad leaves us alone to do some work in his office, while Quaid and I tidy the kitchen and wash the dishes. It’s been that way since forever, and I think it’s Dad’s way of giving Quaid and I some alone time under his roof. After he caught Carter and me making out a couple of years ago, my room became a no boys allowed zone. Even for Quaid, who basically lives at our house.
“You were quiet all throughout dinner. Is something wrong?” Quaid asks as I pass him a plate to dry.
I shake my head, not wanting to look him in the eye.
“Liar.”
I scoff, scrubbing the dish ferociously.
“Are you angry at me or something?”
