Divine (14 page)

“
My mom keeps it
really hot in here,” I told him as we stepped into the entry
way.

“
Yeah, Arizona,”
he remembered.

“
Exactly.”

I put the keys on the
table and dropped my purse to the floor. “Mom, we’re
here.”

Moments later the heavy
steps of her excited feet came tumbling down the carpeted staircase.

Oh god. Is this a
bad dream?

Nope.
It wasn't a bad dream, it was my unfortunate reality. I don't know
what had gotten into her, but my mom was making her way toward us
dressed comfortably in her pink flannel pajamas, teddy bear slippers,
and her pink fluffy robe.

“
Mom, what are
you wearing?” I cried out, completely embarrassed. “I
told you Jonah was coming over today.”

She held out her arms
to Jonah and pulled him in for a bear hug, ignoring my complaining.
“Hi Jonah. I'm Bethany Peregrine, but you can call me Beth.”
She pushed him back but held onto his shoulders in her usual hugging
technique. “Wow, you sure are a sturdy young man, aren't you?”

Jonah looked nervous
and gave a laugh at my mom's comment, unsure how to answer.

“
Mom,” I
cut in, making her release her friendly grip from his shoulders. “Why
are you in your pajamas?”

She looked down at her
outfit and then back up at me. “It's cold and rainy outside; I
wanted to be comfortable. I don't think Jonah cares what I wear, do
you Jonah?”

“
No Ma’am,
I wish I was in my pajamas, too,” he sided with her with a
smile.

“
See? No big
deal. Jonah even wants to be in his pajamas.”

“
Well, okay
then,” I gave in with a laugh. “Since I lost the vote I
guess that means I'm in charge of getting the drinks. Would you guys
like some coffee or hot tea?”

“
No thanks,”
my mom replied.

Jonah nodded. “Yeah,
I'll take some tea, please.”

My mom smiled and
motioned toward the living room. “Come sit on the couch,
Jonah.”

He smiled at me and
then followed her over to the couch, sitting down nervously on the
sage green cushions as my mom sat across from him in the recliner and
started chatting him up.

In the kitchen I
listened to their chattering as I filled our metal tea kettle with
water and sat it on the hot stove. The sound of Jonah's smooth,
masculine voice floated toward me through the air and filled my ears
with satisfaction; I could listen to him talk for hours.

After a few minutes the
whistle of the kettle brought me back to my task at hand. I turned
off the stove and reached into a high cabinet for two coffee mugs
that clanked loudly as I sat them down on the tiled counter top.

“
Jonah,” I
called to him in the middle of my mom's rambling.

“
Yes Ash?”

The sound of my name
leaving his tongue made my face flush hotter than the boiling water
in the kettle. “Um,” I laughed quietly, taking a second
to collect my thoughts and remember my question. “What kind of
tea do you want?”

“
What kind do you
have?”

I pulled open the
drawer in front of me where we kept our teas. “A whole drawer
full.”

“
Hold on, I'll
come look.” He excused himself from the conversation with my
mom and walked to the kitchen, out of her view.

I looked down into the
drawer at our array of teas and thumbed through the small boxes for
something I liked. A second later Jonah came up and stood behind me
with his five-foot-eleven frame, the scent of his cologne wrapping
around me as he looked over my shoulder at the drawer. I closed my
eyes and breathed in his scent as the fabric of his sweatshirt
lightly brushed against my back.

His slightly calloused
hand reached around my waist and pointed to a loose red packet of
tea. “Passion,” he whispered deeply next to my ear.

The heat from his body
and the warmth of his breath on my neck formed goosebumps along my
skin where I wished his fingers would explore. I turned around to
face him and met his intense stare, our faces so close together that
our lips could almost touch, if only he would lean forward.

But as quickly as the
moment had happened he pulled his arm away and brought his hand to
his eyes.

“
Are you okay?”
I asked, confused by the sudden change in his behavior.

He lowered his head and
rubbed his eyes as if they itched. “Yeah, I'm fine. I'll take
the passionfruit tea, please,” he said as he turned around and
went back to the living room, leaving me standing perplexed in the
kitchen.

I turned back to the
drawer and grabbed the red packet of passionfruit tea for him and a
chamomile one for myself; I needed to relax after that confusing
ordeal. I unwrapped the wrappers and dropped the bags into the cups,
then wrapped the strings around the handles so they wouldn't get
knocked down into the brew. The boiling water bubbled as I poured it
out of the kettle and over the tea bags, releasing a mixture of their
sweet aromas into the air.

I
stood there for a moment and watched the steam swirl up from the
cups.
What was that all about?
I could have sworn that he was going to
kiss me, but he always seems to draw away from me. Why?

I knew what the answer
had to be: my age.

Irritated by the
thought, I slammed the drawer of teas shut with the thrust of my hip
and grabbed the cups forcefully, spilling some of the liquid on the
counter.

“
Jonah,” I
called out, “do you want sugar?”

“
No thank you
Ashy.”

Ashy. Just another
twist on his nickname for me. I loved anything he called me, except
for friend; I wanted him to call me more than that.

I carried the cups into
the living room and handed him his, trying carefully to maneuver the
handle from my slender fingers to his sturdy ones. He looked up at me
with slightly swollen eyes and smiled warmly. I smiled back, unsure
of how to feel about what had just happened between us in the
kitchen.

“
No tea for me,
huh?” my mom questioned with a smile.

“
I asked you if
you wanted some,” I sighed. Honestly, she could of had the
whole cup if she wanted; I wasn't even sure if I felt like drinking
any anyway.

I plopped down on the
couch on the opposite end from where Jonah was sitting. I could tell
that he was cutting his eyes toward me, but I ignored him.

“
I'm just
kidding, I don't want any,” my mom said from her comfortable
position on the sage recliner. She rocked back and forth in the
overstuffed chair and glanced over at Jonah. “Are you okay?
Your eyes look all red . . .”

He dropped his head and
rubbed them again with his free hand. “Um yeah, I just have
allergies I think; they were itching me.”

“
Oh, okay.”
The explanation seemed to appease my mom.

“
Thank you for
the tea,” he said, looking toward me from the other end of the
couch.

I looked up from my mug
and smiled hesitantly at him. “You’re welcome.”

A chatter-filled hour
passed before my dad arrived home. We heard his entrance: he let out
a loud shiver as he opened the front door and let his keys drop to
the entry table.

“
We're in here,
honey,” my mom shouted, “with Jonah.”

My dad's heavy steps
made the old beams underneath the new carpet squeak as he tromped
toward the living room. From the sound of it, anyone would have
thought that he was a burly man who was pummeling through the house
toward us. But once he rounded the corner into the living room, he
showed his true form: a tall, skinny, man with glasses and a receding
hairline. I'm sure Jonah was relieved that he wasn't as big as he had
sounded.

He stood at my dad's
arrival. “Hi, Sir. I'm Jonah.” He offered his hand to my
dad and he took it willingly.

“
Nice to meet
you, Jonah. I'm Scott.”

They released their
friendly grips and sat down on the couch, this time Jonah in the
middle and my dad farthest from me.

“
Well, Jonah,
we've heard a lot about you,” my dad said, of course.

I hung my head and
brought my hand to my face to mask the onset of redness. “Dad,
really? Come on,” I muttered.

“
Well it's true.
I know you've been spending some time together and that's okay with
me.” He sat back against the couch and crossed one beige
slack-covered leg across the other. “Summer is a good judge of
character.”

“
Yes, we've
become good friends,” Jonah told him.

I shuttered at his
statement. Friends was the worst “F” word in the world,
at least when it came to me and Jonah.

“
I heard you are
a mechanic?” my dad went on.

“
Yes, I am.”

“
Do you enjoy
your job?”

“
I love my job;
I've basically been a mechanic all my life. My dad and uncle taught
me everything I know.”

My dad nodded with
interest. “I wish I knew how to work on cars. I'm a computer
man myself . . .”

“
I wish I knew
how to work on computers,” Jonah laughed, with my dad quickly
joining in. It was nice to see that they kind of had something in
common.

My dad's chuckles
dwindled into a slightly serious tone. “So, Summer tells me you
will be taking her to a concert tomorrow?”

Jonah leaned forward
and rested his elbows on his knees, setting his tea on the coffee
table and clasping his hands in front of him. “Yeah, if that's
okay with you. It's downtown at the concert hall; it's a pretty safe
area.”

“
Yes, I know the
area,” he nodded. “I'm not too worried, I just want her
to check in with us to let us know she's okay after a couple of
hours. We don't have a curfew for her; she's responsible enough to
stay out as late as she wants. Well, that is as long as she keeps
being the same responsible daughter that we have always known.”
He looked past Jonah and gave me a tender smile.

“
I'll call you,
Dad, don't worry about that.”

“
I know you will,
Sugar Bean.”

Jonah shot me a
quizzical look. I could tell that major fun poking was going to
happen in the moments ahead.

My dad stood up from
the couch. “Well Jonah, it was nice to finally meet you. I've
got to be getting in the shower; I had a long day.”

He stood and shook his
hand. “It was nice meeting you too, Sir.”

“
I've got to get
dinner started,” my mom added. “Jonah, you're welcome to
stay and eat.”

“
Oh, thank you
but I have to go help my mom with some car trouble. I promised her I
would do it today.”

“
Okay, well,
rain-check then,” she told him.

My parents smiled at
him and then left the room heading in different directions, my mom
strolling to the kitchen and my dad tromping up the stairs.

Jonah faced me with a
serious look, his body inches from mine.

“
What?” I
asked nervously; I wondered if his seriousness was the result of what
had happened between us in the kitchen earlier.

He put his hand up and
cupped my cheek while his crystal blue eyes gazed deeply into mine.

Is this it? Is he
actually going to kiss me?

He leaned forward and
parted his lips, whispering softly to me, “Sugar Bean . . .”

I playfully slapped his
arm away, moving his strong hand away from my cheek. “Oh shut
up,” I blurted. “I knew you were going to give me a hard
time about that.”

He laughed loudly at
his own humorous joke. “What kind of a nickname is that?”

“
A dads nickname
for his daughter,” I giggled.

“
Oh, man. That
was a good one, if I do say so myself.”

I put my hands on my
hips and shook my head. “Yeah, that was pretty funny; I'll give
you that.” I was good at taking jokes, but I wished the
seriousness of his face and the gentle touch of his hand on my cheek
hadn't been something to laugh about.