FIFTEEN YEARS OLD
IT’S ALWAYS weird when Adrian joins us for dinner.
The banter that is usually had throughout the meal between the three of us is nonexistent. Paxton hardly looks up from his plate and Rafferty’s spine is so rigid, you’d think it was made of a metal rod.
Mollie, who is never hungry in general, just pushes her food around her plate and cuts it into smaller and smaller pieces. At least when he’s gone, she’ll take a few bites of whatever the chef prepared. She seems more relaxed when her husband is away at work. When he’s here, she becomes a doting housewife. She’s never cooked a meal in her life, but she makes him his plate as if she’d been the one standing over the stove for hours, and she gets up multiple times from the table to refill his glass. When he tells her thank you, her eyes, which are usually kind of dull, light up with joy.
The whole dynamic is off when he’s home. Thankfully, he only eats with us a couple times a month. The rest of the time, he’s either out of town or wining and dining business clients.
Taking a bite of green beans, I try to make eye contact with Rafferty. He sits directly across from me at the big grand table. That’s another thing. We only eat in the formal dining room when Adrian is home. The rest of the time, we’re at the smaller breakfast nook in the actual kitchen. It’s a lot more casual, and I’d prefer it if we were there now.
Rafferty is looking anywhere but directly at anyone sitting at the table. It’s as if he’s doing his best to block out his current surroundings. I wish I knew why he gets so tense when his dad is home.
Adrian uses a cloth napkin to wipe his face before saying, “Paxton, your mother tells me that you asked a young lady to the upcoming dance the other day.”
Pax’s eyes snap up from his plate and he sits up straighter in his chair. “Uh… Yes, sir. Her name is Sadie. She’s in my class.”
Mollie’s face splits into a big smile at this. She’s so proud of her son. “You know who her mom is, Adrian. She’s the chef at that French restaurant you like downtown. The one with the soup you really like? You know, the onion one…”
“Yes,” he interjects, harsher than I think warranted. His shift in tone has Mollie flinching in her chair. “I knew what you meant. There’s no need to elaborate further.”
Sitting here with all of them, it’s easy to compare their features and know which parent they inherited it from. The only thing they got from their dad is their height and broad shoulders, and they both have inches to go before they’re done growing. I would bet they’ll both end up being taller than Adrian. The rest of their features they got from Mollie. I’ve always thought she resembled Snow White with her dark hair and pale skin. Her eyes are the lightest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. She’s slight and slender and looks amazing in her designer clothes.
She’s a stunning woman, but she’s always seemed sad. If my mom were still around, I could ask her if Mollie was the same way when they met in college.
“What about you, Rafferty?” Adrian turns his attention to his older, broodier son. “Are you going to this little dance thing too?” He doesn’t even attempt to hide that he believes the whole thing to be a ridiculous waste of time. Pax, who also catches on to his dad’s blasé attitude physically deflates in his seat. It’s not often I see Pax get excited about something, and I hate that his dad is shitting on it.
“Nope.” Rafferty shrugs, flicking a piece of meat across his plate. “Not interested.”
“What about you, P?” Mollie jumps in. “Have you given any more thought to going?”
Adrian looks at me with the same look he always has. Indifferent. He doesn’t care if I’m going to the dance or not. He’s never loved that Mollie stepped in when my mom decided being a wife and mother wasn’t her thing and headed back to Spain and her affluent family. He’s simply tolerated my presence. While Mollie feels guilty her best friend left me behind, Adrian doesn’t owe me anything. I’m thankful to him nonetheless for allowing me to be here as often as I am because it means my dad can excel at his job.
Putting down my fork, I shake my head. “No, I don’t think I’m going to.”
Mollie frowns. “That’s too bad. It would be a good way to meet kids outside of a stuffy classroom.”
“Maybe,” I offer, not wanting to completely disappoint her.
Then Pax says something I really wish he hadn’t. “Well, if you don’t go with Chance, you can still come with my group.”
At the same time, Mollie and Rafferty speak.
“Who’s Chance?”
“Chance?”
I wince at Rafferty’s bitter tone and glare coming from across the table. Anxiety pools in my tummy, and I wring my hands nervously around my cloth napkin.
Delaying looking directly at Raff for a minute, I turn to my best friend first. “How do you know about Chance?” I haven’t told him about my brief interaction yet. Hell, I hadn’t even decided if it was a story worth repeating.
Pax, seemingly unaware of Rafferty’s shift in mood, happily relays the story, as if he’s sharing a juicy bit of gossip. “He told a couple people at lunch that he asked you to the dance, but you hadn’t given him an answer yet.”
I think back on my conversation with Chance. Had he really officially asked me to the dance, or was it just a casual comment he made in passing? Looking back, I’m not totally sure of the answer. “That’s not… that’s not what happened,” I stammer. “He asked if I was going, and I told him I didn’t think so. He made some joke about being a good dance partner and if I changed my mind, I should let him know. Either way, I told him no.” Finally looking at Rafferty, I repeat, “I told him no.”
Rafferty doesn’t have to say anything. One look in his cold blue eyes tells me the damage has already been done. He’s pissed and he’s probably going to take it out on me.
I don’t really understand why he’s mad though, if I’m being honest. The mixed signals coming from him lately are giving me whiplash. Is he mad because I’m going against his so-called rules about making friends with the fellow students at Hemlock Hill, or for some other reason? I wish he would just use his damn words and stop with the mind games.
My heart sinks in my chest when he leans back in his chair and shrugs nonchalantly. “I think you should go with him.”
There’s an ache behind my sternum as I frown at him. “You do?” Him saying this is a complete one-eighty from what he had said the other day.
“Yep.”
It’s one word, but it hurts more than it should.
Tossing his napkin on top of his half-eaten plate of food, he stands up from the table. He steps two feet away when his father calls him back.
“I haven’t excused you from the table, son,” Adrian snaps over his glass of bourbon.
He looks completely calm when he turns around, but I’ve known Rafferty long enough to notice the little things, like the way his fingers tap his thigh in rhythmic moves or the way his muscles flex. He may look it, but he’s anything but calm staring at his father.
“May I be excused, sir?”
Adrian’s nostrils flare and his eyes narrow at Rafferty’s question. The tension between them is suffocating everyone else at the table.
“You may,” Adrian finally relents.
Without a word or glance back at me, Rafferty leaves the dining room.
IT’S BEEN two days since the awkward dinner, and I haven’t seen Rafferty since. My dad was able to pick me up himself yesterday and spend the evening at home with me. Which is a rarity these days since he was promoted to captain.
I’m sitting under an awning in the school courtyard, eating the packed lunch my dad made for me himself after I told him about what Rafferty said about the food here, when a willowy figure appears in front of me. Looking up from the book I’m reading, I met with the bitchy redhead I’ve seen glaring at me since I first stepped foot on campus. Her two friends, equally as pretty, stand behind her with equally judgmental expressions on their faces.
“Uh…” I start, really confused about what they could possibly want from me. “Can I help you with something?”
Her perfectly-filled lips pull in an arrogant smirk. “With the way Rafferty’s been acting since you got here, I really thought you two had a thing going on and that he’d ask you to the dance.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times as I try to process what she’s saying. It’s so random and out of left field that I’m struggling to keep up. “Rafferty and I aren’t a thing…” I say slowly, while closing the book on my lap.
“Well, I know that now.” Her voice is kind of shrill. It reminds me of that old sitcom The Nanny. I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing aloud at the realization. “I’m not sure what crawled up his ass the other day when he was being a douchebag to me, but since he asked me to the dance, I know now it wasn’t because he has a thing for you.”
A pit grows in my stomach and my heart aches. “Rafferty asked you to the winter dance?”
Why would he ask her? More importantly, why the fuck is he even going to the dance in the first place? He said from the beginning that he wouldn’t be caught dead attending something like that.
“Yep! Just this morning.” Her head tilts and the long curls of her red hair falling over her shoulder. The biggest, fakest smile splits her face. It’s the most condescending look I’ve received since being on this campus, and that says a lot. “I just wanted to clear the air, you know? Just so there isn’t any confusion on either side. Do you have a date yet or are you not going? I’m sure you don’t feel super comfortable going since you’re … the new kid.” When she says new she really means ‘scholarship’.
The way her friends giggle behind her confirms my theory.
Deciding to not answer her question about attending the dance, I wave my hand, dismissing her. “Well, thanks for stopping by and letting me know about Rafferty. I’m so glad to hear he’s taking a nice girl like you with him.” I match her patronizing tone with one of my own.
Her fake smile falls instantly. “Mmmhmm … yeah. You’re so welcome.” With a flip of her hair, she turns her back on me and struts away. Her friends are on her heels like they’re her obedient terriers.
My legs start to bounce restlessly as I ponder over this information. What is his play here? Is he making a point or just trying to make me jealous?
I don’t care what his plan is. I’m not going to let him think he’s won whatever weird fucking game we’re playing.
Across the courtyard, I spot Chance standing at the end of one of the stone tables eating an apple. I’m contemplating waiting to talk to him when it’s more private since he’s currently talking with his friends, but then I spot Rafferty leaning against a wall on the other side, watching me.
Fuck it.
Leaving my belongings on the bench, I stalk across the courtyard toward the lanky blond. He smiles brightly at me when he spots me approaching, which helps settle the nerves swirling inside me.
“Hey!” he greets, swallowing his bite of apple.
Subtly, my eyes flick to where Rafferty is to make sure he’s still watching me before smiling back at Chance. “So, is it too late to accept your offer about the dance?”
I won’t lie, guilt bubbles in my stomach as I ask him this. I know I shouldn’t be using him to … what? Get back at Rafferty? Fuck, I don’t really know what I’m doing right now. What I do know is Chance is the only person who’s been nice to me since I got here. It was very kind of him to offer to take me to the dance, and maybe once we get there, it’ll be the best night of my life. That’s it, Posie. Twist this narrative so you feel better about your actions, I silently chide myself.
He looks completely shocked and elated by my question. “What? I mean, you want to go to the dance now?”
Tucking my hands anxiously behind my back, I shift on my feet. “If you’ve already asked someone else—”
“No!” he cuts me off. “I haven’t asked anyone. I was still kinda hoping you’d change your mind. Wow! Okay, this is great. We’re going to have so much fun together.”
I can feel Rafferty’s eyes on me as Chance and I exchange phone numbers. The way my skin is heating because of it is already making me regret my decision.
What have I done?
