Damaged: A Violated Trust (Secrets) (8 page)

“Thanks.” I set my guitar aside. “Rough night?”

He rubs his stubbly chin and chuckles. “Not particularly.”

I want to mention that he got home kind of late but control myself. He asks about the game and I tell him a little. I consider mentioning Harris to him, but my mom has trained me well. Best to keep my mouth shut about boys. Pretend I don’t even know they exist. And while Dad is way more laid-back than Mom, I’m still not willing to risk this. However, I do decide to mention the guitar lessons.

“Really?” He takes a sip of coffee. “You’re that good?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. But this guy wants to learn and I offered to help him.”

“That’s nice.” Now his brows lift. “Is he a good-looking guy?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, Dad.”

He laughs. “Just curious.”

“I guess so.” I look around the living room. “I thought about giving the lessons here, but I don’t want to disturb you or — ”

“Not a problem. Estelle wanted to drive over to Monterey today. I thought you might want to come, but if you have other plans …”

“I did promise to do the lesson,” I say, trying not to look too eager.

Dad tilts his head to the side. “Okay, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. How far away is Monterey anyway?”

“About two and a half hours if the traffic’s good.”

“Oh … that’s a lot of driving.”

He nods. “But she really wants to go and I’ve been promising her for a while now.”

“So you’ll probably be home late again?”

He shrugs like he’s unsure, but I can tell by his expression that he knows they’ll be late and that he’s a little uncomfortable about it.

“It’s not a problem. I just wondered.”

He smiles. “You’re a good kid, Haley.”

“You’re a good dad, Dad.”

“Well, I better grab a shower. Estelle will be here in about twenty minutes. She’s insisting on driving.”

“That’s nice for you.”

He nods. “Yeah. She’s got a Mustang convertible that’s a nice little ride.”

“Sounds like fun.”

He pauses as he’s going into the hallway. “You’re sure you don’t want to come along?”

“Positive. In fact, I have some homework I should probably work on today.”

“Okay. And maybe we can do something together tomorrow.”

“Great.” I smile.

...[CHAPTER 7].................

A
s Dad is getting ready for his day trip with Estelle, I start to worry about whether or not Estelle’s little brother will report to her that he saw me kissing Harris in Wet Willie’s parking lot. I can’t see any reason Buck would do that, but who knows? Then again, Estelle seems pretty cool about that sort of thing. And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why Dad came home so late last night. So hopefully she’s into the whole live-and-let-live thing too. Besides, there’s no law against kissing.

Estelle arrives at just a little past noon. “You look pretty,” I tell her as I let her into the condo. She’s wearing white pants and a yellow sweater set — very classic and mature looking compared to last weekend. Is she trying to look older for Dad’s sake?

“Thanks.” She pats her sleek blonde hair. “Although, I’ll probably look totally frazzled before the day is over. Your dad likes us driving with the top down. You coming, Gordon?” she yells down the hallway.

Before long, Dad’s ready and they both tell me good-bye and to have a good day, and, once again, I have the condo all to myself. Only this time, instead of feeling a little left out and lonely, I’m totally jazzed. I can have Harris over here and not worry about a thing.

I go around straightening things up, making the place appear as tidy as a bachelor pad can possibly look — I even dust the ficus plant — and then I check my phone again. Still no calls, no texts. Has he forgotten me?

Harris doesn’t call until after three and I try not to sound impatient or overly eager, but it’s not easy.

“So is now a good time to come over there?” he asks hopefully.

“Sure.” Then I explain how my dad and his girlfriend have gone to Monterey for the day.

“Cool, I’ll be there in about fifteen, okay?”

“Okay.” I close my phone, then rush to the bathroom to: (1) brush my teeth, (2) check my hair, and (3) put on some fresh lip gloss. Then I open the door to the terrace since the sun has come out and I sit out there playing my guitar until I hear the doorbell ringing. Suppressing my nerves and trying to act very casual, I open it.

“Come on in,” I tell him as he carries his guitar case into the living room and looks around.

“This is a cool little place.” He sits on the black leather sofa. “Very manly.”

I laugh and sit down in one of the chairs. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Harris pats the seat of the sofa next to him. “Why are you so far away?”

I giggle, then go over and sit down, but as soon as I do this, I wish I hadn’t. I don’t want to look too eager … too easy. But then just like last night, we are kissing again. It feels a little different in the bright light of day and at first I feel self-conscious, but before long I’m used to it. Then after a while, just like last night, Harris’s hands are wandering again. And suddenly I feel like I need to draw some boundaries — without offending him.

I sit up and shake my head. “Harris, this is supposed to be a guitar lesson, remember?”

He looks disappointed.

“Or was that just a line?” I frown. “I thought you really wanted to learn guitar.”

He gives a sheepish smile. “I do. But I guess that’s not all I want.”

I laugh and go get my guitar. “Come on. Let’s do this right, okay? Playing guitar is really fun and I’d love it if we could play together.”

Now he brightens. “That’d be cool.”

So for the next couple of hours, we work on the basic chords and some simple picking and strumming techniques, and we actually manage to play a song together. Harris seems quite pleased with himself. “That was great,” I tell him.

“You’re a good teacher.” He zips his soft guitar case closed.

“Thanks!” But now he pats the spot next to him on the sofa again and I know exactly where this is going.

Instead of joining him, I tilt my head to one side and study him, almost wishing he wasn’t so good-looking. It would be very easy to go over there and comply with his wishes and kiss some more. But I’m starting to get worried. The more we kiss, the more he seems to want to push things further — further than I thought I wanted to go.

I consider mentioning this to him, but I’m not even sure how to put it. How do you tell the guy you love that you’re not ready to have sex with him? What if he dumps you?

“Okay, okay … I get it.” He stands and I’m worried he’s going to leave and never speak to me again.

“Get what?”

“I promised you a real date, and that’s what you’re waiting for, right?”

I glance at the wall clock in the dining room, then nod. “Well, it’s almost six now. I suppose if we were going to go on a real date, I might want a chance to get ready.”

He looks down at his sports shorts and flip-flops. “Me, too. How about I come back and get you at about a quarter to seven? Can you be ready that fast?”

“No problem.”

Now he looks at the clock. “By the way, when does your dad get home? Do you need to check with him first?”

“He said he’ll be home late, but it’s okay if I go out. Dad and I kind of have an understanding. He goes his way and I go mine. We’re very adult.” I giggle.

“Nice arrangement.” Harris nods. “Wish my parents were more like that. I mean, here I am almost eighteen, going to college next year, and they still treat me like a juvenile sometimes.”

“My mom was like that — and more so. I don’t miss it at all.”

“I’ll bet you don’t.” Now we kiss good-bye, and for some reason I get the feeling that I have more power in this relationship than I thought before. I just need to remember to use it, draw the line, assert myself. Even if you love someone, you don’t have to let them push you around.

I’m sure I’ll eventually need to figure out a way to let Harris know I’m not ready for sex. Although I’m surprised I’m partly questioning my abstinence pledge now — a part of me wonders … I mean, if I’m in a committed and loving relationship (kind of like Dad and Estelle), then is it okay?

Yet at the same time, another part of me firmly says
no,
do not compromise, do not give in — stick to your guns and wait until your wedding day. Because the truth is, as great as Harris makes me feel, the idea of going all the way scares me a lot. I would have no idea what to expect, what to do, how to handle any of that. Seriously, I know I’m not ready for sex. At least not yet.

Besides, I’ve heard stories of girls who have sex with their boyfriends and the next thing they know, the guy breaks up with them. If for no other reason that that, I decide it’s better to abstain from sex and continue this relationship, even if it feels like I have to string him along a little. In time he’ll get it, and if he loves me like I love him, he’ll respect me even more for my decision. It makes perfect sense to me. Now if I could just figure out what to wear tonight.

I go through my closet and try on several outfits, but nothing seems perfect for my first date with Harris. Then again, this isn’t really my first date with Harris. Last night, even though impromptu, was a date. After all, we went out in his car together, ate a meal together, kissed afterward, and he brought me home. That means it was our first date. So this is actually my second date with Harris! So, really, I should relax a little.

Finally I decide to go with a flouncy little skirt Estelle said looked great with my legs. I top this with a figure-fitting light green top I got at the Gap, add some hoop earrings and my favorite sandals, and I feel pretty good. I check myself in the mirror. I look pretty hot too. This is going to be a fun evening, I just know it!

“You clean up good,” I tell Harris when he picks me up.

He lets out a low appreciative whistle. “So do you, Haley.”

Then we kiss, and tingles run relays up and down my spine. “And tonight I’m starving.”

“Good.” He opens the front door. “So am I.”

I pause to lock the door, vaguely wondering when Dad will get back. It doesn’t really matter. Harris links arms with me, and as we walk to his car, I feel so happy that I wonder if I could actually burst with happiness. No wonder people are so into love — who knew it could make you feel so good?

...[CHAPTER 8].................

I
honestly don’t think it will matter where Harris takes me tonight. A taco stand or McDonald’s or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in his car would be just fine — as long as we are together. Plus, with so many butterflies in my stomach, I wonder if I can even eat at all. Even if this is my second date, it feels like a first and I’m so nervous I feel giddy. I hope I don’t say anything too stupid.

“If we do something quick for dinner, there’s a movie we can catch at seven thirty.” Harris starts his car. “That is, if you like action flicks. Do you?”

“Sure,” I tell him. Okay, that’s not exactly honest. In fact, it’s a great big lie. But I feel like I can make it true. Because if I’m watching an action movie with Harris, I will love it. I know I will.

“Great. I’ve really wanted to see it. A lot of girls aren’t into that kind of thing, but I had a feeling you’d be more open-minded.”

“I try to be open-minded. I really don’t like being around people with closed minds. It seems to lead directly to bigotry and smallness.”

He nods, then points toward the strip where several fast-food restaurants are located. “You have any preferences?”

“What’s your favorite?”

He shrugs. “I kinda like the fish and chips place, but if you’re like other girls, you probably think it’s too greasy.”

I laugh. “I love fish and chips.”

“Really?” He grins at me. “See, I knew you were my kind of girl!”

Thankfully, I wasn’t lying this time — I really do love fish and chips. And although I don’t order the same size basket as Harris, I don’t get the smallest one either. After a few minutes we are settled at a tiny wooden table, so close that our knees are touching and it feels like little sparks of electricity are flowing between us.

“Do you like malt vinegar on yours?” Harris asks me.

I really don’t, but because he’s generously pouring that brown stuff on his, I tell him I do. He hands me the bottle and I follow his lead by dousing my food, and the fumes coming up from the vinegar make my eyes water. I blink and take a bite, bracing myself for the bitterness and managing to keep a pleasant expression on my face.

I wish I hadn’t done that — and I don’t even know why I did. It’s like I’m in second grade again, trying to be just like my new best friend. But how desperate and pathetic is that? Still, it’s like I can’t control myself. I so badly want this relationship to work and to last.

“Have you always loved football?” I reach for my soda, longing for something sweet to wipe out the bitterness.