Page 39 of My High School Rebel Boyfriend
Whereas a few moments ago Mitchell had been calm and relaxed, I sensed his demeanor immediately change.
“Tillie sent me on a break,” Mitchell said defensively, turning behind to face the man, his jaw tightening.
“Oh yeah?” I recognized the guard as one who had been at the coat check, a close shaved head, a wispy beard and thickset, like a bouncer. And full of hostility.
“Yeah.”
The man put a cigarette between his lips, lit it and wound down the window. “So what’s going on in here then?” My heart was beating like a jackhammer, scared that this was his boss and I’d gotten Mitchell in trouble.
“Uh, this is Harper,” Mitchell said, “uh, she’s a friend from school.” His eyes flitted to me. “Harper, this is my father.”
“Hi?” I hesitated, trying not to show I was blown away by this introduction. Mitchell might have called him his father, but I was pretty certain he wasn’t a flesh and blood relative, not unless his Mom was of Amazonian stature.
“Uh...Wade,” Mitchell said, his voiceon the edge of fear.
A bruised torso flashed vividly in my brain, a feeling that the culprit was right here in front of me. Everything about Mitchell’s reaction told me, his clenched fists, his body stiffening, his eyes dulled.
I acted impulsively. “Hi Wade,” I said, “I just brought Mitchell a few snacks. I thought he might be hungry.” I pulled out the second napkin full of tarts and turned around, offering them to him. “Did you want one?” My smile was wide and cheesy.
Wade’s brow furrowed a fraction, enough that I knew he was curious about my relationship with Mitchell. “Thanks darlin’ but I’m good.”
“Are you sure? They look real good.” I dazzled him with a blinding smile, naively believing that a small gesture of kindness might erase the actions of an abusive parent. Because I was sure that this burly man with tattooed knuckles and deceptively bright blue eyes was Mitchell’s tormentor.
“You go to school with Mitch?”
“Uh-huh. We do Outdoor Ed together. And we’ve been doing sports conditioning together.” Mitchell would probably beg to differ on that one, but I felt the need to keep talking. “My Dad works at Whittaker’s, he’s a factory supervisor but he twisted his ankle, so I had to come with my Mom. So it was kinda good to see Mitchell here, otherwise I was stuck talking with a bunch of oldies.” I laughed, and Wade took a long drag of his cigarette, then blew smoke towards the window.
“I’ll leave you to it then.” He gave a light chuckle and opened the door. “Make sure you keep an eye on the time and clock out with Tillie before you go.” He was back to being gruff again.
“Yep,” Mitchell answered.
“Nice to meet you, Wade,” I said, the car rocking as he got out.
He poked his head back in, “You too, darlin’,” he said with a wink and a smile, a ludicrous thought that I’d changed the man, banished his evil ways. He hadn’t seemedthatbad.
With the slamming of the door Mitchell let out a sigh, staring at the steering wheel. He appeared to be at a loss as what to say and I hated that he felt awkward, like he’d been embarrassed by the whole encounter.
And because he knew that I knew.
“What time do you finish?” I asked, the strawberry tarts tempting me with their delicious smell.
“Midnight,” he said. “Is your Dad’s ankle going to be okay?”
“Yeah, it will be. He was kinda glad to miss this. The Country Club isn’t really his scene,” I said with a laugh. “Here, eat these.”
Mitchell took the bite-sized tart and popped it in his mouth. “Thanks.” Then he took the other one. I watched as he swallowed, head down. “I should get back to work,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, “and I should get back inside.”
“Thanks for the food.”
“You’re welcome.” I opened the door, about to jump out into the wintry night when Mitchell’s hand touched mine.
“Hey, I could give you a ride home later. If you want?”
I think my mouth opened, but it took me a second to comprehend.
“Yeah, okay.”
