Page 21 of The Beginning and End of Everything
Brandon’s gaze tore from mine, and he took a sudden step back, running a hand over his messy hair.
"I know I don't have to, Connor,” I snipped, angry he’d distracted Brandon.
Connor held up his hands, palms out while directing his attention to an invisible, loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt. He mouthed sorry, then grabbed his cigarette and took a small puff.
Guilt twisted my insides. I was tired of Connor attempting to be the angel on my shoulder while it was so painfully obvious that all he wanted to do was wear Brandon’s horns.
I pressed my thumb over the wheel. A flame sparked to life, and I inhaled, watching in horror when the end of the cigarette went from white to orange to bright red, and a taste similar to burnt popcorn coated my tongue. I blew out a thick stream of smoke, triumphantly, because I—Poppy Turner—wasn’t coughing like everyone else in the caravan. "Not that bad.” I shot the smuggest grin I could muster to Brandon, while I took another drag like a champ.
He shook his head on a cough-laced laugh.
"What?"
"Poss, you ain't even inhaling."
"What? Am too!"
He kept laughing, Hope was fighting a laugh, and Connor was staring down at the table. Brandon moved toward me, placing his cigarette to his mouth. He inhaled a deep breath and held it before allowing the smoke to slowly creep between his lips like fog rolling through a cemetery. "Act like you're about to go under water. Take a breath like that, poss."
I took a hefty drag, sucking the smoke deep inside my lungs. My throat and chest burned, my stomach rolled, and the smoke came out in a fit of coughs that had me bent at the waist and desperate to drag in fresh air.
Howling, Brandon slapped his hand on his thigh, then wiped tears from his face. Heat stung my cheeks. All that, and he would still see me as the good girl.
Still choking on the smoke, I dropped the cigarette into a soda can in front of Connor. The ember hissed, and I flopped down onto the floor beside the table topper Christmas tree, dejected and angry at myself for even trying to do something so stupid to impress Brandon.
“Do you have things to do in this…” Hope glanced around, a slight snarl of disgust on her lips. “Caravan.”
Brandon grabbed a box from the corner and dumped a pile of DVDs out on the seat beside Connor. Several of the plastic cases clattered to the floor.
Hope and Connor sifted through the pile while I sulked. "Die Hard.Monty Python. Oh!” She held one up. “Titanic."
“Oh, that’s my favorite!”
Brandon snatched the DVD from her hand and hurled it across the room. "I'm not watching anything with Leonardo DiCaprio in it. Even if he does die at the end." Gripping the cigarette between his lips, he grabbed a case. "Die Hard, it is."
Hope crossed her arms over her chest with a roll of her eyes, and we both groaned in unison.
Brandon was already crouched in front of the ancient box TV when Connor took a movie and flipped it over in his hands. "Deep Throat?" His brows pinched together. “What's that?"
"Don't know. It's my dad's. He says not to touch it." Brandon tossedDie Harddown reached across the table to snatch the one from Connor’s hand. "Which means it's probably something we should watch."
Brandon switched on the TV, then shoved the disc into the DVD player, and took a seat next to Connor.
Hope crouched beside me, pressing a hand to the carpet before inspected her palm. "Is it safe to sit?" she whispered.
I grabbed her arm and yanked her down.
The beginning of the movie was full of permed hair and men with thick mustaches. Brandon had already popped openDie Hardand started to the TV but stopped midstride when some weird 80s music started, and the woman on the screen slowly pulled her shirt over her head. Brandon inched closer to the screen. Connor pulled a Milkybar from his pocket, peeled back the wrapper, and took a bite, his eyes glued to the movie. Brandon raked his teeth over his lip, and all I could think about was how I wanted him to look at me with that same intensity.
The woman stripped down to nothing, then the man touched her in ways that brought a strange, fluttering sensation to my stomach and between my legs. I wanted to look away, but as ashamed as I was to think it, I liked it. I liked watching Brandon’s reaction to it until he turned and glanced at me. Then embarrassment bled through me, and I slammed a hand over my face.
A long moan came from the screen, and I peeked through the slit in my fingers.
Hope was right beside Brandon, and she’d lit another cigarette. “Your dad’s a pervert,” she said, taking a puff.
“You’re watching it, too.”
She shrugged, then whacked him on the back. “So I am, pikey. So I am…”
