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I sit next to him, leaning my back against the wooden headboard. “I think you made quite the impression.”
He starts to laugh. “I bet.”
Reaching over, he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth. One kiss and then two more are placed on the top of it. It’s not sexy like the idea of sitting on a bed together might summon, but it’s sweet like first kisses and the excitement of newly dating should be.
He slides down lower, settling in again. Looking up at me, he slips a wry grin into place. “So what do you want to do today?”
15
Harbor
I don’t recognizewho I am when I’m with Lark, but for some fucking reason, I don’t mind the difference.
She’s as innocent as can be, but she smarts back, like at the gas station when we first met and last night when she tried to convince me to fuck her.
It’s good that she has bite and speaks her mind. She’ll have no problem handling when my inner asshole shines through after walking a straight fucking line all day in order to appease everyone around me.
My current mood is courtesy of her having prior plans with her dad and me getting a text from Marina guilting me into coming to the house for dinner.
I shift the car into park and cut the engine, sitting, and staring at the house through the windshield. I unlatch my seat belt and pop the door open. With one foot planted on the ground, the other stays firmly inside the vehicle. My hesitation to attend this dinner comes from months of building my tolerance for avoidance. It was better not to see too much of my family than for them to see the pain I was going through. I wasn’t going to add to the devastation of what happened.
I’ve mastered the character flaw of avoidance, but I always was a fast learner.
The door opens and Marina steps out, looking right at me. Standing there on the brick landing, she leans against the railing. She shakes her head but then smiles and waves me in.
After a great night with Lark, I’m not in the mood to disappoint anyone today, especially not my sister. The way she viewed me never changed. That’s the bliss of youth. The dirty details are left out of the conversation when a story is explained.
“Come on, Har. I want to show you something.”
I get out and make my way up the steps. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” I reply, sounding a lot like an old man. Closing the door behind me, I follow her into the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom.” I come around the island just as she turns around.
“Harbor.” Her arms go out to bring me into a hug. “I’m so happy to see you.”
She holds me tight, and for a minute, I’m reminded how she always made me feel loved. If I wouldn’t have lied to protect Lucas’s memory, I know I wouldn’t have left home. But I had to because Mom would have seen right through me. Now I only grant her glimpses. “Happy to see you, too.”
She leans back and takes a good look at me. “You look tired but happy.” My mom notices every little detail about her family. If I let her look closer, she might even see Lark hanging around my thoughts tonight. “Oh, to be young. I just look tired these days.” She laughs as she stirs what looks like a soup on the stove.
“You look beautiful, as always,” I say, knowing she’ll never believe me as if it’s my job to tell her what she wants to hear since I’m her kid. But it’s the truth—my mother is the embodiment of grace and class. Plus, she’s basically a saint for dealing with us four kids. I’m quickly waved off, exactly as expected.
“Something to drink?”
“I can get it when I’m thirsty.” I know she tries to make me feel at home when I’m here, but it feels strange to fall back into the kid role after living on my own for the past couple of years. I don’t have anyone offering me anything in my apartment, so I’m not used to being catered to anymore.
I take a seat on the other side of the island next to Marina. Her laptop is open, and a page from Beacon University is loaded. I ask, “What is it that you wanted to show me, kiddo?” I like to remind her she’ll always be my baby sister.
She rolls her eyes from the moniker. “I’m not a kiddo anymore, Harbor.”
I chuckle from the staunch stand she takes. “Noted.”
Tugging me by the shirtsleeve, she says, “Pay attention. Remember the girl from the gas station that you tried to pick up?”
“What girl from the gas station?” my mom asks, angling to look back at us.
“What gas station has chicks hot enough to pick up?” Noah asks, joining in the conversation. I look behind me as he crosses the family room and comes to stand behind Marina to look over her shoulder.
Fuck me.
