Outside (14 page)

“TV is just like that, but the shows are shorter and usually have less kissing, depending on what you’re watching.”

I look up at him and blurt, “Have you ever kissed anyone the way they kissed in the movie?” As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I want to shrivel up and die. My eyes widen in horror and I clamp my free hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to say that,” I say, only it’s muffled by my palm.

Adam smiles. “It’s okay.” He stops behind his car, still holding my hand. “And to answer your question, yes.” His fingers brush a stray strand of hair away from my face.

My heart thumps in my chest like a galloping horse and I swallow, afraid it will beat its way out of my body if I don’t hold it in. “Does everyone here kiss like that?” My voice is a whisper.

He shrugs, “Yeah. I think so.”

“Oh.” I glance down at the black asphalt.

“No one kisses in Shiloh?”

“They do,” I say, looking up at him again. “Just not… They don’t open their mouths.”

He raises one eyebrow, giving me a crooked grin. “That’s a shame. It’s a lot better that way.”

A thrill ripples through me and I realize I
want
to kiss Adam like that. I want it, badly.

But not today. I’m not ready.

He squeezes my hand after a moment. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”

We pick up two pizzas and take them back to Adam’s house. As soon as we pull in the driveway, he groans.

“Fuuuuck,” he says, turning off the car.

“What’s wrong?” I glance out the window, expecting to see the blue flashing lights of a police car. Instead I only see a sleek red car with no roof and a large black truck with enormous wheels that shine like mirrors under the security light above the garage.

“My dad and his wife are here.”

My eyebrows pull together. “Is that bad? Should I leave?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I just…” He turns to me. “I hate her.”

I flinch. Hating a family member is a sin. “You shouldn’t hate your mother,” I say, quietly.

“She’s not my mother,” he says. “She’s my dad’s wife. My mother died when I was twelve.”

I stare at my hands. “Oh.” Death is something I never had to deal with in Shiloh. No one there ever died. Until recently, I believed it was because we were the Lord’s chosen people. But since Mother confirmed that Elder Berman is a liar, I know that’s probably not true.

I’ve seen pictures of the graveyards they have here. Rows and rows of stone monuments to the dead. I peek up at him, unsure of what to say.

“Sorry,” Adam says, pushing his hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Let’s just go in. You’ve already met my dad. You can meet Christine and we can eat pizza and hopefully they’ll leave us alone.” He smiles, but it’s forced. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

When we open the front door, I’m nearly knocked over by the smell of onions and garlic.

“Gross. She’s
cooking
,” Adam mutters. He shifts the pizza boxes under one arm and points me toward the living room, shutting the door behind me.

I stop in the living room doorway. The TV is on and Adam’s father paces in front of the couch, talking on his cellphone, oblivious to my presence. His voice is low, but I can’t help overhearing.

“…
Get
someone to do it! I won’t lose this case because you’re too-” He pauses, listening to whoever he’s speaking with.

Adam edges past me with the pizza and I jump. His dad turns and nods to him before taking his conversation out the door on the far end of the living room, his voice even quieter.

As if he’s reading my thoughts, Adam says, “He’s an attorney,” and shrugs. He puts the pizza on the coffee table and then settles on the couch, patting the cushion beside him.

As soon as I’m seated, he switches the TV to something I recognize: Baseball.

“Braves are playing,” he says opening the pizza box. He reaches for a slice and stops, glancing up at me. “Have a seat. I’ll get some plates and stuff. Do you want a Coke?”

“Just water, please,” I say.

He nods and disappears into the hallway.

I perch on the couch, staring at the pizza instead of the TV. Moments later, Adam returns, scowling, with paper plates in one hand and a bottle of water and a can of Coke in the other.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up straighter. Then I see that he’s not alone. A woman with enormous breasts spilling out of her top walks in behind him.

“Look at you!” The woman smiles at me, but her large brown eyes narrow as they take me in.

Adam sets the plates and drinks on the table. “This is Alaina. Alaina, this is Christine.”

I stand, ready to greet her, willing myself to look her in the eye.

“Jesus, Adam! Use a coaster!” Christine snaps.

My eyes shift between them. Adam’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he reaches for a stack of discs in the center of the table and plunks two down before setting out drinks on them.

Christine turns her attention back to me. “Aren’t you
cute
.”

I have no idea how to respond, so I just smile and study her wavy, chin-length hair to avoid staring at her breasts.

She eyes the pizza boxes next. “Save room. I’m making my famous manicotti!”

Adam wrinkles his nose and drops onto the couch, grabbing the TV controller and turning up the sound.

“You like manicotti?” she asks.

My eyes flicker to her chest involuntarily. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it,” I say, forcing my eyes back to her face.

“Trust me, you don’t want it,” Adam mutters.

Christine exhales through her nose, reminding me of the way Mother would just before she slapped me. I brace for it, flinching when she lifts her hand to push her hair behind her ear.

“For heaven’s sake, girl!” Christine laughs and pushes my arm down. “I’m not going to
hit
you.” She turns on Adam. “What have you been telling her about me?”

Adam’s eyebrows pull together with unspoken concern before he addresses her. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t tell anyone about you if I can help it.”

The exposed skin on her chest and neck turn a splotchy red. Without a word, she turns and walks out.

I retake my seat beside Adam. He looks me over like he’s checking for injuries and then smiles. “Pizza?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll take you home before she makes you eat her rank manicotti.” He leans forward and puts pizza on our plates.

“What is it, though?” My curiosity has gotten the best of me.

“Cheese-stuffed noodles with sauce on it. It’s good if a normal person makes it, but Christine uses cottage cheese instead of ricotta. And like, a million garlic cloves. It’s a train wreck.” He takes a bite of his pizza.

I didn’t understand much of what he just said, but I take his word for it and bite into my own pizza. It’s delicious!

My eyes widen and I can’t help the grin that creeps across my face. Forget TV, how is everyone here not addicted to food?!

“Good?” he asks.

I nod vigorously and take another massive bite.

Adam pulls into Beth’s driveway. The sun is all the way down now. I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach for the door.

“I’ll walk you,” he says, unbuckling his own seatbelt.

He follows me up the front steps onto the porch. “I hope you had fun,” he says as we stand under the porch light.

“I did.” Visions of Avryn and Hayze kissing flash through my head. And then Adam’s admission that everyone here kisses like that echoes in my ears.

Down the street, a beat up white car rolls to a stop in front of a house, turning its headlights off.

“…again.”

I look up at Adam. “What?”

“I said we should definitely go out again. Maybe next time we can avoid my crazy ex and Christine.” He laughs.

“Are there more movies we could see?” I ask.

“Sure. Or we could do something else. You ever been downtown?”

Shaking my head, I say, “No. What’s downtown?”

He smiles cryptically. “You’ll see.” He takes my hands in his and leans forward. “I’ll text you if I don’t see you tomorrow.” And then, he presses his lips against my cheek.

He steps away, letting go of my hands. I’m speechless. He
kissed
me!

My grin is impossible to hide. I touch my cheek as the door swings open behind me.

“I thought I heard voices out here,” Beth says.

Adam backs toward the steps. “G’night Ms. Roberts.” He gives me that dangerous crooked grin before turning and taking off down the steps toward his car.

I watch him drive away. As he goes, my eyes settle on the beat up white car still parked down the street.

“Spill!” Holly bounces onto the porch, grabbing my arms. “Tell me
everything
!”

I let her pull me into the house, craning my neck to see the white car until Beth shuts the door.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ALAINA

My stomach is in knots during the ride to visit with Mother.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Beth says.

I run my hands over my knees. The skirt I’m wearing is made of a clingy knit material. I’m hoping she doesn’t notice the way it hugs my hips. My more appropriate skirts are in the laundry basket waiting to be washed.

“Just thinking,” I say. Thinking about Adam, to be honest. Thinking about the days since our trip to the movie theater. The texts, the visits during my paper route, the kiss he gave me on the front porch that night.

He hasn’t kissed me since and I think that’s a good thing. I feel like I’m marked now. Like I’ll walk in to Ms. Jackson’s office and Mother will just
know
. She was suspicious last time, I think. But this time, as we make the final turn and pull into the parking lot, things are different.

When the elevator doors open, Ms. Jackson is already walking out of her office.

“Oh, good,” she says. “I was just on my way down to the conference room. Your mother is already there.”

Beth smiles and pats my arm. “I’ll be right here.” She points to the waiting room.

Taking a deep breath, I follow Ms. Jackson to the conference room.

“Your hair looks very nice like that,” she says as we walk.

I touch my tamed waves. Jacki gave me some hair cream and showed me how to use it. At the time, it wasn’t a big deal. Now it seems like too much. Will Mother think it looks nice? Or will she see it as a sign that I’ve given in to the sinners?

When Ms. Jackson pushes the door open, my teeth are clacking together behind my closed lips. My hands shake and my palms sweat.

Mother is seated in a chair with her back to the door. Her spine is stiff, straight, and perfect. I straighten, realizing I’m slouching.

“I’ll just sit here.” Ms. Jackson waves me down to the other end of the table to sit with Mother.

With my eyes lowered, I take my seat and wait. Last time I spoke before her. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

“Stand up,” she orders.

My shoulders hunch, but I do as I’m told, wordlessly. Her eyes are on me, but I don’t dare look up.

“That skirt,” she says. “It’s inappropriate. I can see the outline of your thighs.” She says it in an even, conversational tone, but the meaning is clear; I’m in serious trouble. “Sit down.”

I drop into my chair, blinking back tears. Apologies form on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them down.

“Do you have your bible?” she asks.

I glance up and meet her eye for the first time since I walked in. The rage is written in her clenched jaw and cold, hard stare.

“No, I’m sorry.” I barely get the words out around the lump in my throat.

She blinks hard and her lips pinch together. In Shiloh, I would have been slapped by now. “Fine. We’ll share mine. There are some scriptures I think you need to read.”

Exhaling softly, I nod. Scriptures. I can handle reading some scriptures.

Mother flips through her large, leather-bound bible, stopping in the New Testament. “First Corinthians five-eleven,” she says, pushing the bible across the table so I can see.

My eyes scan the words that I’ve read and recited a million times before as she reads aloud.

But now I have written unto you not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolator, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner; with such a one no not to eat.

My eyes flicker up to hers. There’s a question in her eyes. Do I understand her message?

“Let’s read another one.” The conversational tone is gone. Her anger bubbles just below the surface as she flips to another scripture in 1 Corinthians. She taps the page with an agitated finger. “Maybe
you
should read this one aloud for us.”