Page 99 of Look at Her and Die

I went to the parent-teacher conferences. I went to the school functions. I went to the soccer practices.

Hell, the first person Anders called “Mom” was me.

For the first six years of her life, I’d had to correct her constantly.

“It might be nice, though, to know what we’re going to have to work against,” I admitted.

“Which is why I’m going to this stupid farce to begin with,” he grumbled.

Tossing his towel into the hamper, which was close to overfilled, he walked straight up to me, planted a soft kiss on my lips, then patted my ass before disappearing into his closet which was off the bathroom.

I followed him in there next, watching as he got dressed.

He put on a pair of worn jeans, a black long-sleeved t-shirt, and followed it up with a pair of black motorcycle boots before he said, “Just need some deodorant and I’m ready.”

My lips twitched. “Are you trying to piss her off, too?”

“Fuck her,” he said. “Just wait until I walk in with my cut on. She’s going to lose her shit.”

Was it bad that I couldn’t wait to hear her reaction? The way he was making it seem was that she was going to totally flip.

Then again, maybe she’d be too distracted by me to care what he was wearing.

Nerves were constant through the ride to his mom’s place.

But the long drive, which took well over an hour since it was on the opposite side of Dallas, was enough to have my nerves slightly under control again as we pulled up outside of the biggest house I’d ever seen.

“My god,” I said when he pulled to a stop and shut the bike off. “How much does a place like this cost?”

He grimaced and pulled his helmet off, staring up at the ostentatious house along with me.

“More than I make in ten years.” He chuckled. “Dad looked it up once out of curiosity at a family dinner with Scottie and my stepmom. He said the number, but at the time, money really wasn’t super important to me, so I only paid half attention.”

“I’m sad that I never got to meet your dad and stepmom,” I admitted.

“You would have adored them,” he acknowledged as he sighed, long and loud, then swung his leg over the bike to come to a stand next to me. “Let’s get this shit over with.” He paused and looked down into my eyes. “I want you to understand something.”

I blinked. “Okay.”

“My mom has this whole ‘poor, woe is me’ attitude. She’ll make you think like I kicked her puppy the entire night. But it’s all an act. She’s perfected it over the years, and swear to God, she’s really good at it. I’m telling you, with one hundred percent certainty, that she’s going to make you question me and my actions. She won’t outright show you how pissed she is that you’re here…but I’d watch your food. When she sets that plate down in front of you, pass it over to me, and I’ll pass it over to my stepsister.”

“You have a stepsister?” I asked as he helped me to my feet.

“Yep,” he confirmed. “And she’s like Switzerland. She’s on both sides, so she’ll let me switch with her, because my mom always forgets that my sister is a vegetarian, and she’ll refuse to eat the food. But it’s okay, because she eats before she comes.”

My lips tipped up at the edges as I said, “Let’s get this over with.”

He sighed. “I’m not sure I want to.”

I caught his hand and guided it to my helmet. “Get this off of me, or I’ll take it off myself.”

His hands came to either side of my helmet as he said, “Anyone touches this helmet, even you, there’ll be hell to pay.”

I wasn’t sure why he liked doing it so much, but honestly, it kind of made me feel precious. And I’d never been precious to anyone before, so I was going to live it up.

Eventually, he’d grow tired of me and leave—most men I’d casually dated had because of my living situation—but until then, I’d definitely protect him from his mother. I’d spend every second of my day with him. I’d hang out until he saw the light and eventually left.

He pulled the helmet reverently from my head, then kissed my hair before depositing both his and my helmet onto the bike.