Page 6 of For the Fans
I don’t think Becca was able to plant any visible ones, but I can’t be sure just yet.
“As tempting as that sounds”—I grin, kissing her one more time softly while also subtly pushing her off me—“I gotta go. If I piss him off now, I’ll wind up grounded for the rest of summer break. And we can’t have that… Can we?”
She continues to pout, touching me everywhere with needy fingers. But then she sighs, “No, we can’t. Especially because Kim’s pool party is in two weeks, and youhaveto see the bathing suit I bought.” She flutters her long, fake eyelashes at me. “It’s gonna blow you away.”
My fingertips dig into her waist a little. “I look forward to it.”
One last peck on the lips and I manage to extract myself from her grip, rolling off the bed. I wave and blow her a kiss before darting out of her bedroom, heading downstairs. On my way out the door, I’m shaking my head in annoyance.
I can’t believe I have to leave hooking up with my girlfriend to go do this… We have the house to ourselves, for fuck’s sake!
Both of Bec’s parents work during the day, and now that it’s summer vacation, we could do literally whatever we want in her house as long as it’s before six. I’ve been looking forward to having sex with her again. The first time—which was both of our first times—was good, but it was sort of… awkward. Maybeawkwardisn’t the right word…
We were both kind of nervous, I guess. So I’ve been itching to get back on that horse—ew, bad analogy. Practice does make perfect, though. And I’m awesome at most things, so I figure I’ll only need to do it a few more times before I become awesome at sex, too.
Butno. Instead of getting my eager dick back inside my girlfriend, I’m going home on a Friday evening to have dinner with my dad, the woman he’s currently screwing, and her son.
I’d rather rip a shot of bleach.
Yet I’m still doing it, because of my pathological need to please authority figures, my father being the main one. Sometimes I wish I could just sayfuck it. Toss up my middle finger to everything and do whatIwant.
But then I remember that Ineedthe order; the structure. It’s good for me. Keeps me from thinking about… things.
Shoving those thoughts away, deep in the back of my mind, I walk up the block to the bus stop and wait. I’m usually a pretty patient person, but I am so motherlovingsickof riding the bus. I can’t wait to turn sixteen and finally apply for my driver’s license. My dad said if I get straight As my first semester of junior year, he’ll buy me a car. There’s a goal for this fall that I’ll have absolutely no problem achieving.
The bus shows up and I hop on, sitting quietly with my mind thrumming as it drives up Highland Ave. Our house in Somerville is nice… Actually, nicer than the one I grew up in, which was also in Somerville, just across town. I think after the divorce, my father was trying to prove howfinehe was by buying a better house than the one we lived in when he and my mom were still together.
It’s the image. Theportrayal. Everything needs to look perfect on the outside… no matter how decayed and rotten it is beneath the surface.
Grinding my teeth together, I pull my phone out of my pocket and open the camera. I force a smirk and snap a selfie, posting it to my Instagram account with the caption:
Crushin another day in Somerville. Love my hometown. #blessed
I post it and let out a slow breath.
When the bus comes to a stop, I hop off and wander up the block to my house. Thankfully, I don’t see any other cars in the driveway, which means theguestsprobably aren’t here yet.Maybe they cancelled… Maybe we’re not doing this stupid fucking dinner and I can hang out with my friends tonight instead of this parental version of waterboarding.
Unfortunately, when I step inside the house, I smell food cooking, which means a dinner of some kind is happening. I spot Theresa in the kitchen, and I can already tell she’s making a fancier meal than what she usually cooks for just Dad and me.
My father doesn’t cook, or do really any sort of housework, so when he and my mom split, he hired Theresa to do all that stuff. She’s a nice lady, and not that I would ever admit it out loud, but I like having her around. She provides a buffer between my dad and me. A much-needed one.
I don’t even want to think about what it would be like if it were just the two of us in this house…
“You’re late,” my father’s gruff voice calls from the den, and my spine stiffens.
“You said five-thirty…” I murmur, turning around slowly.
“And it’s quarter to six.” He lifts his wrist to display his Rolex, as if to make some bullshit point. “That’s whatlatemeans, Kyran.”
My fist tightens at my side. “Well, they’re not here yet… Right?” He narrows his gaze at me, and I sigh an exhale meant to calm me down. “I was hanging out with Becca.”
His head does a barely visible nod, which means he approves, at least a little. My dad likes Becca, mainly because her family is from Southie, and they’re well-off. Really all that matters to him.
He doesn’t give two shits about personality or interest… If you were raised Irish Catholic in Boston, then you’re alright in Thomas Harbor’s book.
“Go get ready for dinner.” He takes a sip from his glass of Jameson. “They’ll be here shortly.”
There is oh-so much I’d like to say right now, but as usual, I stuff it all down and obey his command, stalking off to the stairs and up to my bedroom.
