The cigarette is because I’m nervous and it sucks that he doesn’t approve, but I can’t help it. I smoked off and on through high school because I thought it was cool and for whatever reason, the summer after I graduated I up and quit cold turkey. For the most part.
But I keep a secret pack on me at all times, like a security blanket, only pulling one out when I’m extremely agitated and I need to calm my nerves.
Like tonight. That introduction to his parents was intense. Normally I go through a pack of smokes in six months. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be smoking a pack a day by the third day of this so-called vacation.
“If my dad saw you right now, he’d flip,” Drew said, drawing me from my thoughts.
I take another drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out and flicking it as far as I can. Not that it’ll hit the ocean, but I like the image of it, the sizzle and hint of smoke the cig lets off upon hitting the water. In reality, I’m a common litterbug and I feel like crap, but Drew’s not chastising me. “It’ll be our little secret, right?”
“We’re going to have a ton of secrets between us by the end of the week, huh.” He’s not asking a question, it’s more like a statement, and he’s right.
“Yeah, we are.” I smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. Instead, he turns on his heel and leaves the deck, slipping back into the house, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.
Leaving me all alone in the cold, dark night with my cold, dark thoughts.
Chapter 5
Day 2, 2:00 p.m.
Love is a smoke and is made with the fume of sighs.
—William Shakespeare
Fable
Rich people suck. They’re rude, they act entitled to everything, and heaven forbid you look like a poor person. I’m wearing jeans and a sweater, nothing fancy, and they all sneer at me like I’m some sort of bum. They flash me dirty looks like I crawled out of a gutter, and then they have the nerve to look scared when I approach them. Like I’m going to pull a knife on them or something and demand all their money.
This is happening to me as I wander the cute shops that line Ocean Avenue in downtown Carmel. Drew dropped me off at the top of the hill, explaining that there’s an endless number of shops and art galleries that line the main drag as well as the side streets. He said I could explore thearea for hours if I wanted to, and I eagerly agreed to the arrangement since I knew his dad wanted to talk to him privately.
That’s what they’re doing right now. Sitting in some restaurant pretending to eat lunch while his dad drills him with the “what are you doing with your life” questions, I’m sure. Luckily enough, Adele had a standing hair appointment and she couldn’t go, though she was ready to cancel. Drew’s dad stopped her, saying he wanted to talk to his son alone.
Her bitter disappointment was obvious to all over that one.
A shiver went down my spine. That woman gives me the heebie-jeebies. I don’t like her and she doesn’t like me. At all. She tries her damnedest to spend time with Drew and he tries to avoid her at all costs. I don’t get it.
Of course, who am I to judge when it comes to screwed-up families? Mine is an absolute mess.
I stop in front of a store window and peer through the glass. The shoes on display are probably so expensive, I figure I can’t afford to look, let alone walk into the place. Luckily my ringing phone saves me from doing something so daring.
“Tell me everything’s okay,” I answer.
“Everything’s okay,” Owen replies. Damn, even his voice sounds like he’s smirking!
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” It’s only two o’clock. He’s not out until three.
“It’s a half-day today.”
He’s lying. The half-day isn’t until Wednesday, but there’s no point in getting on him about it. I’m out of town. There’s nothing I can do. “Has Mom been home?”
“Yeah, last night she was there, but it sucked.” He curses under his breath. “She had her new boyfriend with her.”
Yuck. Glad I wasn’t there. Though if I had been, my mother wouldn’t have brought him around. She would’ve stayed at his place instead. “Is he nice?”
“No, he’s a jackass. Bossed Mom around and constantly ordered her to get him a beer. I finally told him to get his own damn beer.”
I sag against the wall with a groan, earning a few strange looks from passersby. “You didn’t.”
“I sure did. He’s rude as hell and he’s a drunk. Mom deserves better.”