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“You're so lucky,” they said in unison and Carol added, “I wish I had a boy like that. Mom would never approve.”
An icy chill worked down my spine and I glanced behind me to see Aunt Kim standing in the doorway. She clutched Deena's uniform so tightly her knuckles were turning white.
“Lark, you must have homework to do. Go do it. Girls, let's clean this up so we can start dinner.”
My attention turned back to the girls, “Thanks for the cookie. Those are my fave.”
“Anytime, Lark,” Carol said, but I was already halfway out of the room.
The look my aunt gave me as I passed had the hair on my arms standing on end. Not sure what it was I did this time, but I felt her glare until I was out of sight.
Chapter Eight
The following weekend I helped Bastian move into his apartment. His landlord had been reluctant at first to rent to a teenager—feared the noise and potential trouble Bastian may cause in their quiet building. His attitude shifted though when Bastian handed him the first and last months’ rent plus security deposit in cash. It was unclear if the landlord's change of heart was due to learning Bastian held a job that paid enough for him to afford the apartment, or if it was just that the payment was in cash. Having a trust fund certainly came in handy.
His new place was both close to school and the garage where he worked. The second floor, two-bedroom-one-bath unit seemed really cozy. He even had a fireplace and I couldn't wait for winter to curl up with him in front of it. A pang of sadness shot through me that his parents couldn't see the gift that they had in him. Never knowing my dad and losing my mom when I was so young, to see parents willingly and intentionally neglecting their child was both inconceivable and heartbreaking. Today was a good day for him, so I turned my thoughts to pleasant ones.
He had ordered a sofa, a bed and a television, so the day we were unpacking his boxes, the delivery trucks came one after another. Once we had most of his stuff unpacked, he ordered a pizza. After we ate, we relaxed on his new sofa.
“There's one more thing I want to do,” he said rather cryptically before he moved from the sofa and disappeared into the second bedroom. He came back into the living room holding my painting, a hammer and a picture hook. “I want to put it on that wall so I can see it when I'm sitting here.”
I was overwhelmed at the sight of him doing something so commonplace. He wasn't just hanging my painting. He was moving me into his apartment too. He confirmed this when he said, “You're turning eighteen. The door's open any time you want to move in.”
My blood actually sizzled in my veins just thinking about moving in with him and where that would lead. The most wickedly sexy look flashed over Bastian's face. Clearly he was thinking the same thing. “I absolutely want you in my bed but until you're ready, there is a second bedroom.”
I had to keep myself from agreeing immediately. I wanted my life as entwined with his as possible, but there was a part of me that held back because of Dominic's warning.
“I want to…but I'm just not there yet.”
“There's no rush, I'm not going anywhere.”
And even as I smiled in reply, I couldn't help the feeling of foreboding that slithered along my skin.
***
The weeks that followed Bastian's move flew by, and before long Halloween had arrived. The school was hosting its annual parade and dance.
Though I had attended these dances every year, I never dressed up for them. This year, my last year, I broke from tradition, but I was keeping my costume a secret. Bastian, learning that I wasn't going to share, decided he wasn't going to share either. Poppy and Sophia tried in vain to guess my costume as we sat in the lunchroom.
“A blue crayon.”
I looked at Sophia like she had horns popping out of the top of her head. “What am I, two?”
“A taco,” Poppy said.
“I don't even like tacos.”
Bastian's long legs stretched out in front of him as he listened, a grin tugging at his mouth.
“Black Widow from the Avengers?” Sophia guessed.
“I could definitely get behind that costume,” Bastian said; my eye roll at him was instinctual.
“You aren't going as something dorky like a water molecule or DNA are you?”
“Sophia, where are you getting these ideas?” Poppy asked.
“They were some of the ideas I had and rejected.”
