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“They’re teenagers,” Drew chimes in, saving the conversation from destruction.
Hunter stares at me some more for the better part of the evening. I do my best to return his cocky smile with my death stare, which only seems to spur him on. What an asshole. I can’t stand the way his eyes seem to look right through me, and it has only been a couple of hours. I keep reliving the conversation we had in my head. I should have told Hunter to mind his own business. Once I talk it out with Jay, I’m out of here.
He and my father are quiet while Drew, Mac and I keep chatting on about everyday stuff. Jay gives me curious eyes every now and then like he can’t really believe I’m here. Hunter’s grunts and his eye rolls make me want to punch him in the face. He’s one big distraction I don’t need. And the comments he makes most of the time are downright irritating. He obviously doesn’t like me. Well, buddy, the feeling is mutual.
After dinner, the guys leave me and Jay alone on the porch. I’m grateful Drew dragged Hunter back to one of the garages. I was starting to get agitated with Mister-Grunts-A-Lot. Something about him makes my blood boil, and my heart race.
“Kid?” Jay asks.
“Huh? What?” I reply.
He smiles. “Where did you go?”
“I was thinking,” I say, stretching my legs a little.
“About?” he asks, taking a long gulp from his beer.
“About Mom, Stevie and Conrad,” I lie, and avert my eyes.
He clears his throat. “How is your mother and her husband?”
“He has a name, Jay.”
“What’s the Conrad guy like?”
“Mom loves him,” I answer. My stepfather adores Mom, and has made it his life’s mission to make her happy. “He’s a good guy. He’s been great to me, and loves my little brother,” I tell him, showing him a picture of us in Central Park on my phone.
“He has your mother’s eyes,” he whispers, staring at the photograph of us.
“He’s a great kid,” I say, putting the phone in my pocket.
Jay nods, not saying anything more. I look up and my breath catches as I follow the path of the stars above the house. “Wow,” I breathe.
“What?”
“I forgot how many stars you can see out here,” I say, pointing upwards.
He chuckles.
“What?” I ask, turning toward him.
“You always loved to sit outside and look at the stars when you were a kid,” he murmurs, leaning backwards and scrubbing his face with his hands. His sad eyes catch my gaze. “Kid, I know…”
“I’m really tired, Jay, I’m going to bed,” I croak, and quickly stand.
He gets up as well, pushing his hands in his back pockets. “Maybe I could take you on a tour tomorrow.” He hesitates. “I would like to show you my life here. And we could talk some more, if you’re up to it.”
“Sure, Jay. See you tomorrow,” I say, opening the kitchen door.
“Kiddo?”
“Yeah?” I answer, hovering in the doorway.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he rasps, his eyes misting over.
“Me too,” I reply, quickly turning around before he sees my tears.
