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His eyes flashed.
“Tell us what?” Alex asked.
Still holding my gaze, where I was feeling he was looking inside of me, he shared, “That Clint’s right. I’m starting to like your cousin, and no, I have no intention to stop fucking you. How’s that for a share?”
That hadn’t been what I thought he was going to share.
71
RAMSAY
Over the next week, a few things changed. One was Gem, who wanted all the details about Scout and me. I shared what I could.
“We’re sleeping together so no feelings would start.”
“No feelings?”
“Except sexual ones. That’s changed now, though.”
“You don’t have sexual feelings now?”
“No, we do. That was there before we even started.”
“But other feelings changed?”
“Right.”
“Now you have feelings? But you’re not sleeping together?”
“No, we are. We’re not stopping.”
“So . . . you’re sleeping together, there are feelings, but you’re still not friends?”
“I think we’re friends now.”
“But, wait. What?” She had her hands twisted in her hair. “Are you a couple then?”
“God, no.”
“Wha . . .”
Theresa had come over to us, so we’d stopped talking. Gem tried asking later, but it was the same conversation.
“Okay. I get it now.”
“What do you get?”
She gave me a long and inscrutable look. “That you have no idea what you’re doing.”
“Well.” Duh. “Yeah.”
After that, we were on the same page. It felt good.
A second thing that changed was Homecoming. The planning ramped up.
Also, that Alex was going to be Homecoming King. That wasn’t really a change, but it was news to me. The other guys elected for Homecoming court were Clint, Trenton, Cohen, and four guys I didn’t know.
The big surprise was that Scout’s name wasn’t on the voting sheet. He wasn’t even an option.
I asked him the night after we voted.
We’d been at my place, in my room, on my bed, with the door open. My mom was home.
It’d been a week since Family Explosion. That was what I was calling the night Nick dropped the bomb he was leaving my aunt, all the other bombs we dropped after the run in with Rho Mu Epsilon, the bomb my mom dropped after everyone else had gone home.
If I was going to keep doing whatever I was doing with Scout—those weren’t her exact words—we needed rules.
Rule one: Scout and his uncle came over for dinner.
That hadn't been awkward. (Sarcasm inserted.)
Rule two: Scout and I needed to be defined.
“It’s not for you. You can think whatever you kids think nowadays, but I need to know. What do I call him? Are you having sex?” she said after dinner the next day, but then she shot a hand out. “No. I don't want to know. I should know. I need to be a proactive mom here, but I’m not blind. It’s obvious whatever you're doing, that you've been doing a while. I’m playing catchup and I'm worried about my daughter. Just tell me you're being smart? Are you being smart?”
We were folding clothes when she started. I lifted the fitted bed sheet, took in the three knots she had tied it into, and nodded. “I'm being smart.”
Her chest lifted and held as she bit her lip. "What is he to you? So it makes sense to me."
What were we? “He’s my Homecoming date.”
Her eyes lit up. A big smile started, and she burst into tears.
Turned out, Homecoming was a sensitive topic around the house, which was what I was currently trying to explain to Scout. That she cried because she was happy I was being “normal” again.
He seemed stuck on one point.
“I’m your what?”
“Homecoming date, and also, why weren’t you on the voting ballot again? You’re one of the top guys here.”
He sat up. “Is this your way of asking me to Homecoming?”
Okay. Now I was sitting up. “Were you planning on going stag?”
“I wasn’t planning on going. That was why I got my name off the ballot.”
“What?” Also, “How did you do that?”
His eyes narrowed. “I have my ways, and the whole point was so I wouldn’t have to go. I don’t go to dances.”
My eyes narrowed right back. “You’re going to this one.”
“I don’t like dances.”
I sighed, sitting back on my butt and crossing my legs in front of me. “You’re saying that like you have a choice in this matter.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.” I leaned forward, leveling him with a look. “My mom was asking me to define us. After you told my cousins you were starting to like me and not adhering to the original rule of stopping what we’re doing, which we haven’t.” I raised my eyebrows.
So did he. He was following me.
I kept on, “Your uncle came over and met my mom. My mom met your uncle. There’s now a whole ‘thing’ going on.”
“Thing?”
I ignored that. “And since I have to go to Homecoming, and my mom is asking for a title for us—”
“Title?”
I ignored that too. “I went with the least responsibilities choice. Homecoming date. You. Me. You’re going.” For added clarification, I said, “With me.”
