Faster We Burn (9 page)

“Maybe.”

I gave her a quick kiss that turned into something more before she pulled away.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she said.

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but I could tell she’d been thinking about it.

“I usually just spend it with Trish, or go to Allan’s house. His mom always invites me and sends him to come get me if I try to bail. Why?”

“Do you want to come home with me?”

I leaned back so I could see her face better. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. You’ll have to deal with my family, and my sister won’t be there, but I want you to come.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stand being around all my relatives without wanting to kill myself and I need someone to take the fork out of my hand if I try.”

I gave her a look.

“Oh shit. That was meant to be a joke and I –”

I put my finger on her lips.

“It’s okay. I actually enjoy a little suicide humor now and then. If you can’t laugh about death, then you end up worrying about it all the time and that can consume you. Trust me.”

She pressed her lips against my finger and I moved it away so she could talk.

“It’s okay if you have plans.”

“Katie. I would be happy to come to your Thanksgiving with you.”

Her face lit up. “Really?”

“Really. I’m just not sure if your parents are going to like it. Have you ever brought anyone like me home before?”

She tapped her chin and squinted at the ceiling as if she was thinking really hard about it.

“Uh, no.”

“Have you asked your parents if you can do this yet? Your dad doesn’t have a lot of firearms, does he?”

“No, and just a few hunting rifles. He likes to go moose hunting.” Like nearly every man in Maine.

Fantastic, that was just what I needed. “Jesus, Katie.”

She patted my cheek and then got up. “Oh come on. You’re a big boy. You can handle it. Breakfast?”

“Yeah, sure. Be right there.” She skipped out of the room and I heard the fridge opening a second later.

I shook my head at myself. What the hell was I thinking? I knew what would happen if Katie brought me home. I’d been down that road before. It never led anywhere good. I was about to tell her no way when I heard her singing as she cracked some eggs into a pan.

I leaned out of the doorway and watched her in the kitchen. She was singing the Taylor Swift song again and dancing a little as she minded the eggs. My shirt just barely covered her ass, but she didn’t seem aware.

I couldn’t say no to her. At least not about this.

“What about Trish?” I said. She looked up and stopped singing.

“She can come too, if you want. The more the merrier.”

I walked until I was standing behind her. “I really feel like you should check with your parents first.” I put my arms around her waist and rested my chin on her shoulder.

“It’s fine. Trust me. They love having people join. They’re always telling me to invite people. My mom always cooks too much and we end up foisting it off on the neighbors.” She flipped the eggs over gently and turned in the circle of my arms.

“It’ll be great. I swear. I hope you like pie.”

“Who doesn’t like pie?” I said.

“No one.”

Katie

“Are you seriously taking him home?” Audrey said as we rested our eyes for a moment after a marathon study session. It was just the two of us since Lottie was out with Zan and Trish had to work and the guys always studied in their room. In my opinion, it was just an excuse for them to say they were going to study and then play video games instead.

“Yes, I am. He doesn’t have anyplace to go,” I said, stretching my neck. I was still a little haunted about what Stryker had told me about his past. I knew it was worse than he let on, but he glossed over it. I wasn’t sure if that was for me or for him, so I didn’t push.

“What are your parents going to say about that?” she said.

“Honestly? I don’t know. It’s going to be interesting.” Understatement.

“And you’re bringing Trish, too?” She put the cap on her highlighter, setting it back beside her pen. That girl had studying down to a science. I wished I could emulate her, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

I shook my head. “I was going to, but she’s actually going home with Lottie. We’re all going to rendezvous the day after and have dinner together.”

“Well, I want a phone call, or at least text updates. Things are going to be really dull at my place.”

“What about Will?”

She sighed and blushed at the same time. If my relationship with Stryker was complicated, I knew that Audrey’s and Will’s was, too, only I couldn’t figure out why. Obviously they liked each other and I didn’t think either of them had massive baggage, but I couldn’t see the hold-up.

Audrey rolled the highlighter back and forth on the fake mahogany table. DU was a state school, so everything was meant to look real, but it was only a painted or varnished façade. “He asked me to come home with him, but I felt weird about it. My parents are big on family and all that, so there’s no way I can miss my family thing. He was so sweet when he asked, though.”

“He’s a really great guy.”

“I know.” She looked down at her book.

“So what’s the problem?”

She looked like she was going to say something and then shook her head.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Hey, you want to get some coffee or something?” It was classic deflection, but I let it go. Maybe she did have something dark in her past, although she hid it much better than I did. Audrey was one of those beautiful girls who looked like they had all their shit together, but maybe not. Huh.

***

Simon decided to have another huge dinner the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving break started, and Stryker volunteered his apartment as a gathering place.

“Does this mean you’re going to wear that lovely apron again?” I said as we dragged grocery bags full of food up the stairs.

“The first rule of cooking is: Don’t speak of the apron. It is sacred and no one must know about it,” he said in a serious voice. “Never speak of it again.”

“Okay, rule one: Don’t speak of the apron. Any other rules?”

We set our bags down on the kitchen floor and I stretched my back.

“Don’t mess with my spice rack. If you take something out, put it back.” He opened one of the cabinets and showed me an epic spice rack with everything alphabetically organized. I’d seen it once before, but hadn’t mentioned it to him. Stryker just didn’t seem like a spice rack kind of guy. I figured it was a gift from someone.

“You’re a closet foodie. I knew it,” I said, pointing at the spice rack. “Nice try, Mr. Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but you couldn’t fool me for long.”

He shut the cupboard.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. “Or I might have to kill you.”

I moved to kiss his lips but someone knocked.

“Damn,” he said, brushing the side of my face with his hand. “They have the worst timing.”

“Knock, knock!” Simon yelled. “You’d better be decent.” Stryker gave me a look and went to open the door and everyone piled in, also carrying bags.

We ended up making the most random, weird dinner ever. From pancakes to steak tips to pizza, with chocolate covered pretzels and white chocolate raspberry cookies for desert. There were way too many cooks in the kitchen, and Stryker tried to rein everyone in, shouting orders like a general and trying to organize the chaos that refused to let itself be organized. We didn’t even bother to take everything over to the couch and futon, we just stood around and piled our plates high, stuffing our faces until we’d had enough and we had to sit down.

“I don’t think I can move,” Will said, putting his hands on his stomach.

“Ditto,” Lottie said, her head lolling on Zan’s shoulder.

“Who knew pancakes and pizza made such a good combination?” Simon said. Brady raised his hand.

“I did.”

“Sure you did,” Simon said, honking his nose.

Stryker had found a pen and was busy drawing something on my arm as I sat in his lap. He wouldn’t let me look at it until it was done, so I was just watching everyone else as they debated about the best Thanksgiving side dishes.

I’d told my parents I was bringing a guy home, but I hadn’t told them much more than that. Trish had accused me of being ashamed of Stryker, but it wasn’t true. I knew if I went into too much detail, they’d either tell me that he couldn’t come, or read too much into our relationship.

Yes, I liked him. I could no longer deny that. Yes, I enjoyed spending time with him and yes, that included having sex with him.

No, I did not want him to be my boyfriend. Things were fine the way they were, and besides, we weren’t headed for commitment. Boyfriend came before fiancé came before husband. I wasn’t going to marry Stryker, so why even go down that road?

“You can look now,” he said, holding up my arm. He’d drawn a silhouette of my face with a frame around it, like a picture. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” I turned my arm to see it better. “Now I’ve got ink, too.”

“Would you ever get a tattoo?”

“I’ve thought about it, but I could never decide what I wanted.”

“They say you should sit on a tattoo idea for two years before you get it.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Not exactly, but it’s a good idea. At least for your first one.”

“If I make up my mind, I’ll let you know and you can go with me. Deal?” I held up my hand and he shook it.

“Deal.” He capped the pen. “So I was thinking I should bring something.”

“You don’t have to do that, I swear.”

“Still, it is a tradition in polite society to bring the hostess gift at least.”

“Well, I have the green bean casserole covered, and Mom always does potatoes, squash and sweet potatoes.”

“How about a baked brie?”

“A what?” I’d never heard of such a thing.

“It’s cheese baked in a crust with jam. It’s delicious. I swear, you’ll love it.”

“Brie? The boy with the banjo, tattoos and lip ring eats brie?” He leaned in and snuffled my neck, making me giggle.

“Shhh, that’s the third rule of cooking: Don’t speak of the brie,” he whispered in my ear before biting my earlobe.

“Okay, I won’t speak of it.” I slid my hand down and squeezed his dick once when no one was looking. He made a little sound of surprise and shifted under me.

“Dirty. You play dirty, sweetheart.”

***

Mom was in full panic mode when I got home on Wednesday night, and I could hear her fighting with Dad all the way from the front door. They’d put the turkey flag outside and I knew the house was going to be dripping in leaf cutouts and various other Thanksgiving memorabilia. My mother had an entire room in the house reserved for her various holiday decorations.

“Gina, you need to calm down. You do this every year and it always turns out fine,” Dad said in a soothing voice. “Hey, Katiebug!” His face broke into a smile.

“Hi, Dad.” I set my bags down in the doorway and headed into the warzone, otherwise known as the kitchen. The table was set with the maple leaf placemats and a Yankee Candle store’s worth of spice-scented candles were burning. And, of course, Mom had her traditional rust-colored turtleneck on. Dad leaned down from his towering height to give me a hug.

“How is she?” I whispered.

“I’ve hidden the coffee so she won’t get crazy on caffeine. So far we haven’t hit panic mode,” Dad whispered back before letting me go.

“Hey, Mom. Do you need any help?” The counter was covered in cans and bags of flour and cooking spray and spices galore. Stryker would have been horrified at their disorganization.

I’d said good-bye to him this morning and I was already itching to text him. I’d put my phone in my glove box so I wouldn’t be tempted to look down at it while I was driving.

“No, I’m fine. Just trying to get organized. When is that guy coming?” As far as my parents knew, Stryker was a friend who was also a guy who didn’t have a home to go to on Thanksgiving. Granted, this was true, but I knew my mother was painting an Oliver Twist-like picture in her head that the reality was going to shatter.

“Um, I told him to be here by eleven.” We usually ate around one, so that would give my parents enough time to get used to Stryker before we all sat down to dinner. It would also give my relatives enough time to properly embarrass me in front of him.

“That sounds good. Is he staying the night?” She wiped the counter down with a leaf-shaped sponge. I had no idea where she got this stuff from, but she always managed to find things to fit the holiday.

“Uhh,” I said, stuttering. I hadn’t anticipated that. “I don’t think he’d planned on it.”

“Well, didn’t you say he was a couple hours away? We could always make up the extra room for him.” She rinsed the sponge out and I could feel Dad staring intently at me. Normally Mom was the one who read too much into situations with boys.

“I’ll ask him,” I said, getting out my phone.

My mom wants to know if u’ll stay the night. In the guest room. I think she thinks ur a loser I’m being nice 2
.

He responded immediately.

Can I sneak into your room for pity sex
?

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes because both my parents were watching.

I told you, my dad has guns
.

I could almost hear his sigh through the text.

Fine. We can rendezvous in the shower. To be continued

I smiled as I typed
dot dot dot

“Yeah, he’s going to stay.”

“What did you say his major was?” Mom said, fiddling with the oven.

“He’s a double mechanical and environmental science major.” Stryker’s majors painted the picture of a helpless dork, complete with glasses and a pocket protector.

“Impressive. He must be really smart.” Dad was still giving me a searching look.

“He is. He’s also musically inclined, and may or may not bring a guitar with him. He usually always has one in his car.” I didn’t know which car he’d be bringing, because he was always working on two at once.