Misunderstandings (7 page)

Present Day
1:37
PM

Justin had remained stoically silent since his last outburst. I acted like I didn’t care and felt my indifference was well played by the way he would glare at me every few minutes. While he sat contemplating my demise, I played the “if only” game in my head.

If only I hadn’t stopped to stare at the building when I first arrived, I might have wound up on a different elevator. If only I’d stayed in the bathroom a few seconds longer, I could have missed the ride in Elevator Hell all together. If only I had stayed out of Seattle, I wouldn’t be sitting here playing the damn “if only” game.

Eventually I realized the game only made matters worse. It wasn’t like I had a time machine and could go back and fix any of this mess. Justin was still avoiding my eyes, so I took my time studying him. Two years ago, he was already pretty much a man, but I noticed subtle changes that showed he had completely outgrown boyhood. His shoulders seemed wider and his face looked leaner and more defined. Everything else about him was the same. Like the way he ran his hand over his scruff-covered face when he was frustrated or trying to make a point. I was sad the eyebrow ring was gone, but truthfully, its absence only enhanced his looks. With it gone, you were able to appreciate the golden specks in his brown eyes without interruption. My eyes moved from his face, down his arms, and to his hands. His hands were my favorite thing about him. They were large with rough calluses like a man’s hands should be but gentle enough to create beautiful works of art. The idea that he was so creative always enchanted me.

I forced myself to pull my eyes away from him. It was almost painful to remember how those hands had felt on me.

November 2010

“Don’t be silly. Of course you’ll join us for dinner,” Trish, Justin’s mom, chastised as she hustled around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the pasta feast she’d been preparing all day.

“Thanksgiving is a family holiday, Mrs. Avery. It would be tacky if I showed up,” I countered, ignoring the smirk Justin was throwing my way.

“Trish,” she reminded me.

“Fine. Trish, it’s not necessary for you to feel obligated to invite me to a holiday dinner because a certain manipulator strong-armed you into it,” I said, glaring at Justin.

“As if that lightweight could strong-arm anyone,” Hollie,
Justin’s precocious ten-year-old sister piped in from her perch at the counter, where she was shredding lettuce for our salad.

“Who you calling lightweight, short stuff?” Justin demanded, pointing the knife he was using to dice tomatoes.

“Don’t point that thing at your sister,” Trish admonished, handing me a cucumber to slice. “And, sweetie, Hollie is right. Justin didn’t tell me to invite you. We all want you here.”

“It just seems fast,” I replied. “Justin and I have only been dating for a couple of weeks,” I reminded them. I refrained from mentioning that the last few weeks had been the best weeks of my life. Once I’d let my guard down and agreed to let my misgivings about him go, I quickly realized Justin was different from any other guy I had ever dated. We traded the traditional dates of dinner and a movie for more walks around Puget Sound and afternoons strolling through the Seattle Art Museum. Justin was an attentive date and made sure that he never dominated the conversation. Girls still checked him out wherever we went, but I was able to ignore it. He never returned the attention and instead focused solely on me. It was a heady experience to be treated with such devotion. Any ideas I might have entertained at keeping it casual were long gone. He was becoming like a drug I couldn’t get enough of.

“Two weeks? That’s like a year by Justin’s standards,” Hollie giggled, ducking as Justin reached over to mess up her hair.

“Don’t think Brittni’s track record is any more pristine. She goes through guys like most girls go through hair products.”

“Wow, what a way to throw me under the bus,” I griped.

“It’s every man and woman for themselves,” he teased,
dropping a kiss on my lips, despite the fact that his mom and sister were looking on. I flushed, still not used to such open affection in front of others.

“Say you’ll come,” Hollie begged, pushing the serving bowl of lettuce toward me so I could add my sliced cucumbers to the salad. “Please,” she added with wide eyes.

I contemplated my options. I could stick to my plan of eating a frozen meal in my dorm room, or I could have a real meal. It seemed like a no-brainer. I just wasn’t sure it was a smart no-brainer. “Okay, I’ll come,” I caved as the three of them beamed at me.

“Well played, kid,” Justin said, reaching into his wallet and extracting a five-dollar bill. “I think the puppy-dog eyes sealed the deal.”

“I figured those would work. Did you like how they were even watering a little? I was pinching my hand for that effect. I should charge you extra,” Hollie said, grinning at me as she shoved the five-dollar bill into the back pocket of her jeans.

“You bribed your sister to talk me into coming over?” I sputtered out, glaring at the guilty duo that had just played me.

“Just covering my bases,” he answered, dragging me from the counter and leading me toward his small but functional apartment in the basement.

“Dinner will be ready in twenty,” Trish called as Justin closed the basement door behind us.

“Your mom’s going to think we’re coming down here to make out,” I commented as I sat on the small leather sofa in the living room of the basement. I’d been down in his apartment one
other time, but Hollie had been excitedly chattering away at my side as she gave me the tour. Justin’s bedroom was at the far end of the large space. The bathroom was beside it and could be accessed through the bedroom or the large living room. A full-size kitchen sat at the other end of the living room with an island that separated the two spaces. Justin had confessed to me that he had yet to use the kitchen. He felt guilty about it, but the kitchen had been his mom’s idea. She had told him when he moved back home that he deserved his own space. My favorite part about his mock apartment was the door that led outside. It wasn’t like I planned on sneaking in or out, but having a separate entrance offered up a small measure of privacy.

“If she’s going to think we’re down here doing something, then why hide it?” Justin said, pulling me to my feet. He wrapped his arms around me and lowered his mouth to my neck.

“It doesn’t make you uncomfortable that she knows what we’re doing?” I asked. It came out as more of a sigh as his lips found the sensitive skin behind my right earlobe.

“We’re both adults and she respects that. I’m just glad we’re alone,” he said, trailing his lips over my cheek until they settled fully on my own lips. I whimpered with pleasure as his tongue parted my lips. I had made the startling realization on our second date that I was a fan of kissing him. I mean, I absolutely loved kissing him. It had become my favorite pastime, making me feel like a crazed hormone-driven teenager.

Justin eased us toward the full-sized sofa, never taking his lips from mine. I felt the sofa against the back of my knees and smiled as he slowly lowered me to the cushions below. I pulled
him down with me so that his body was flush against mine. With only twenty minutes until his sister came barreling down the stairs to get us for dinner, we were playing with fire. Over the last two weeks, we’d had our share of heavy make-out sessions in his jeep, but that was as far as we’d taken things. The couch, unlike the jeep, had no obstacles, allowing me to feel every inch of him against me. I enjoyed his weight on top of me and I couldn’t help shifting beneath him as he deepened the kiss. He groaned against my lips as our bodies settled fully together. Feeling powerful from the effect I was having on him, I shifted again, grinding my hips against his. Fire spread through me as his body reacted to my movement.

The sound of Hollie calling our names only seconds before she clamored down the stairs had us springing apart like two guilty teenagers. Justin was busy hiding the sudden bulge in his jeans, while I pulled down my shirt that had somehow crept all the way up to my neck.

“What are you two doing?” Hollie asked, bouncing onto the couch between us.

“Uh, watching TV?” Justin answered, reaching for a throw pillow and setting it on his lap. I chuckled at the look on his face.

“How can you watch TV when it’s not on?” Hollie asked. “I think you were watching
Kissing 101
,” she added, smirking at us.

“You do, do you?” Justin asked, ruffling her hair. “You’re too smart for your own good. Now beat it, squirt. Tell Mom we’re on our way.”

“Fine, but hurry. I want Brittni to sit by me at dinner,” she
said. “Hey, Mom, they said they’ll be up as soon as they finish making out,” she called prior to racing up the stairs before Justin could hit her with a pillow.

“Having trouble there?” I joked, looking at his obvious problem the pillow had been covering.

“Are you offering to help?” He winked.

“If only we had time.”

“Tease,” he said, helping me rise from the couch.

“Hey, you’re the one who started this. I distinctly remember mentioning we only had twenty minutes. You know what they say about those who play with fire getting burned.”

“True, and in Hollie’s world, that’s closer to five minutes. Someday we’re not going to have a gearshift to stop us or my kid sister.”

“Promises, promises,” I said, stepping on my tiptoes so I could place my lips on the back of his neck as we headed for the stairs.

“Who’s playing with fire now?” he asked, turning so abruptly I almost fell down the few stairs we had started climbing. He reached out to steady me before dropping a hard kiss that was filled with promise and need on my lips.

“Can you two ple-e-e-ease stop kissing so we can eat dinner?” Hollie demanded at the top of the stairs.

“I need to muzzle her,” Justin mumbled against my lips, making me giggle.

We could here Trish chastising Hollie to leave us alone. She stomped away from the door, complaining that she didn’t get the big deal about kissing and that she personally found it gross.

“One day you won’t,” Trish said as we entered the kitchen, handing Hollie a stack of plates to add to the table. “Hopefully that day is way down the road,” she added under her breath, shooting Justin and me a wry look.

“Years and years,” Justin clarified, looking green at the thought of his little sister lip-locking with anyone.

“Boy, I pity the first guy who asks Hollie out,” I remarked, carrying drinks to the table.

“Don’t drop those,” Justin mocked, making a production of helping me with the glasses.

I stuck my tongue out at his reminder of my previous clumsiness.

“Why?” Hollie asked inquisitively.

Justin grimaced, making Trish and me laugh and only confusing Hollie more.

“Why do you pity the boys?” she demanded this time, afraid that she was the butt of the joke.

“Because, honey. Your brother is just a wee bit protective over you. I’m afraid it’ll make the Spanish Inquisition look like a walk in the park,” Trish laughed.

“What’s the Spanish Inquisition?” Hollie asked. She was easily distracted.

“It was the way they handled certain religions back in the fifteenth century. I remember hearing about it in a history lecture years ago, but more notably, it was a Monty Python skit I saw years back, before you or your brothers were even thought of.”

“What’s Monty Py—”

“Why don’t you go see if Travis is ready for dinner,” Trish interrupted, dropping a quick kiss on top of Hollie’s head.

“How’s the play going?” I asked at the mention of Travis as I sat in what had become my normal seat at their dinner table.

“Good, if the new bounce in his step is any indication,” Trish said, smiling broadly. I had learned on my first visit to their house two weeks ago that Travis had landed the role of Ebenezer Scrooge in his high school’s production of
A Christmas Carol
.

“Yeah, except he’s taking his role a little seriously,” Justin complained. “He tried to con me into giving him extra dough so he’d know what it would feel like to have some wealth. Those were his words.”

“Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying,” Travis said, entering the kitchen. “Brittni,” he smiled widely, happily pulling me up for a bear hug. Travis was a hugger. I was slowly adjusting to it. Slowly.

“Hey, Travis,” I said, returning his smile. When Travis was around, you couldn’t help responding to his enthusiasm and personality. “How goes the showbiz?”

“Well, it’s tough to be a star, but I’m adjusting to all the fame and paparazzi,” he joked, taking his own seat.

“Oh boy. You better get the contractors out here, Mom. Looks like we’ll need to have the doors widened to fit Travis’s head and ass if he doesn’t stop eating all the bread,” Justin growled, moving the bread from his brother’s reach before he could add a third roll to his plate.

“I can’t be blamed for being a growing boy,” Travis answered, unfazed by the ribbing. Justin held the bread basket out to me so I could claim my own roll.

“Key word there being ‘boy,’” Justin joked. Travis retaliated by throwing a piece of the rolls in question at Justin, who deflected it, where it ended up landing in Hollie’s glass.

“Ew, gross. Can you two please act your age?” she huffed, stomping to the kitchen to get a new drink.

“Boys, behave,” Trish said, looking up from a stack of papers from school she was grading while we ate.

I still liked the fact that Trish was a teacher, which is what I wanted to be for as long as I could remember. My friend Tressa said it was because I was born bossy, which was probably true. I liked the idea of teaching others. I wasn’t the most affectionate or easygoing person, but I really did like kids. Even if I did gripe about the ones I worked with at the daycare. It was just the way I was. I put on an air of gruffness, but working with kids was my passion.

“Yes, Mom,” Justin and Travis answered in unison. They both exchanged silent death threats once her head was bent down again.

Hollie and I laughed at their antics, which made Trish’s head shoot up again as she mockingly glared at both of them. “I mean it, or I’ll put you both on dish detail for a week without the dishwasher.”

Her words had the desired effect, as both guys instantly grimaced at the idea of a week of hard labor.

“Harsh, Mom,” Hollie quipped, taking a large bite of her salad.

“Sometimes the dish card is necessary,” Trish laughed, pulling her reading glasses off and placing them on top of the stack of papers. “Now, tell me about your day.”

“Molly threatened to cut my braid off if I wouldn’t let her cheat off my paper today,” Hollie piped in while helping herself to a serving of the big bowl of spaghetti at the table.

“What the hel—” Justin started to say as Trish sent him a warning look for his language. “What the heck?” he clarified.

“You can say ‘hell.’ Ms. Johnson says it all the time,” Hollie said nonchalantly as she took a hearty bite.

“I thought you said this charter school would be a good experience for her,” Justin said, shooting his mom a look.

“It is a good school. Hollie, what did you do when Molly threatened you?”

“Nothing. Mr. Davis was right behind her and heard the whole thing. You should have seen her face.”

“I bet. What did Mr. Davis do?” Trish asked, holding up a hand so Justin wouldn’t interrupt again.

I smiled and patted his leg as he clamped his lips closed.

“He sent her to Principal Rhodes. She didn’t return to class, so I’m pretty sure she got suspended, which is too bad since we took the test and she wasn’t there for it.” She grinned mischievously.

“Okay, that’s good. Now what is this about Ms. Johnson?”

“Well, a couple of kids in my class have been cussing lately.
Not me,” she added quickly when everyone pivoted to look at her. “Anyway, Ms. Johnson told us that chances are we were all going to be exposed to swearing and most likely do it ourselves. She made us think of all the swear words we could and she wrote them on the board. The only curse word she wouldn’t write was the F-word because she said that’s just vulgar,” Hollie continued around a bite of her roll. “She said as long as we use them in context, she was fine with us using them, but if we use them out of context, we have to write a five-hundred-word essay on the origins of swear words. None of the boys want to write the essay, so the cussing has stopped. I guess they were using them wrong.”