My Sweetest Escape (My Favorite Mistake #2)(19)
Author: Chelsea M. Cameron

“Douche bag!” She managed to pinch Mase’s side and wiggle out from under his arm and rush toward Hunter.

“See if I do anything nice for you anytime soon.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was talking about sexual favors. Disgusting.

“How was your day, Little Ne?” Mase moved my feet and sat down next to me. I hoped he wasn’t going to wipe his sweat on me. Not that it would be any different than being at home with my siblings who often used my jeans and shirts as tissues.

“Same as yesterday. It will probably be the same tomorrow.”

“Wow, don’t sound so depressed. Most people your age would love to be living in this house. I mean, what more could you want?” He gestured to the beautifully furnished house.

Freedom to do what I wanted. Freedom from being watched and criticized. But Mase wouldn’t understand that.

“Nothing, I guess. You can ignore my bitching if you want,” I said.

“Please tell me you won’t sync your period with the rest of the ladies in the house. It’s bad enough, and now the guys are outnumbered,” Mase said.

“I’ll give it a shot, but no promises.” He held his fist out and I bumped it with mine and then we exploded at the same time and I couldn’t help but laugh. Hunter sat down on the recliner and Taylor sat in his lap.

“So, I’ve got a performance this weekend. You guys in?” he said.

Mase nodded. I was missing something.

“Performance?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m in this a cappella group, the Steiners. God, that still sounds lame when I say it out loud. I was sort of forced to join after someone saw a poster for auditions,” Hunter said, staring at Taylor.

“I’m someone,” Taylor said, raising her hand. “And you should come. It’s actually really cool. Dusty’s in it, too. He’s their beat boxer.”

I wasn’t even surprised. Dusty Sharp was destined to show up in my life. I might as well accept it.

“We might even do a certain song that I think you’d like. I can put in a request,” Hunter said.

“Sure, why not? It’s not like I have anything better to do.” I needed to get a job soon, but I hadn’t talked to Renee about it yet. The plan was to find something, get myself hired and then tell her about it later so she couldn’t say anything about it.

My first inclination, when I found out that there was a Bull Moose close to campus, was to try there, but now that I knew Dusty was there, that was out. I just wanted to do something that wouldn’t suck, but the chances of that happening were pretty slim. Still, I’d have to start looking. Maybe Hannah would have some ideas.

“Awesome. You’ll like it, I swear,” Taylor said, tracing Hunter’s number seven tattoo. Paul was the only guy in the house without any ink. I’d considered getting some myself, especially now. I wanted something on my body that reminded me of him. Something that would make me think of him and what little time he’d been in my life that would influence me. That was what I missed the most, second to him. It was his influence.

But I knew Renee would have a litter of two-headed kittens if she found out I was even considering getting inked. I’d have to wait until she’d stopped watching me like a hawk. It was something to think about. Soonish.

Soon everyone was home and the dinner-making commenced. It was Renee and Paul’s turn and they opted for pasta again, since they could make a ton of it and different sauces and satisfy everyone. I lurked in the kitchen, feeling crappy about the conversation I’d had the night before with Renee. I was pretending to work on my homework for the next day, but I couldn’t focus on it.

She was busy informing Paul the correct way to cook pasta, and he was taking it in stride. He was a saint, I swear. I couldn’t understand why he put up with her, except that he must really love her this time.

“My God, Paul, it’s not rocket science, which you happen to know.”

“I’m not a rocket scientist,” he said, leaning back and giving me a look.

“Clearly not,” she snapped.

“I’m going to go…be somewhere else,” he said, heading for the living room, where the rest of Yellowfield House was engaged in homework warfare. Renee put her hand on her head as if she had a headache when he left.

“I swear, he gets on my last nerve sometimes.” She turned off the pasta pot and leaned back against the counter. “It’s a lot, you know? Living together.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No, definitely not. It’s just…sometimes I wonder if we moved too fast. Getting back together and then the house and everything. But that’s none of your business. I’m fine. How was school today?” My mother had never been the one to ask me that when I got home every day. It was always Renee who wanted to know about my assignments and so forth.

“It’s fine. Pretty much the same.”

“Are you still okay with your major?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what I was saying.

“I never thought you would say that. I remember when we were kids and you snuck out of bed to watch the election results. I used to think you were a robot, or that there was at least something seriously wrong with you.”

Yeah, I remembered that little girl. She’d grown up, and now she was gone.

“Pasta’s getting cold,” I said, using my pen to point at the large pot. Renee seemed to snap herself back into place and remember that she was in the middle of making dinner. She went back to the sink and drained the pasta as I took my unfinished homework downstairs. I’d deal with it later. I had at least done the reading and made notes for Pam’s class. No way I was looking like a moron in that class.

Dinner was pretty quiet. Darah was at work, so there was one less member, and it felt weird to not have her there, getting on everyone about putting their elbows on the table and using napkins and not damaging the finish on the table.

Renee and Paul seemed to be okay again. I caught him whispering in her ear and giving her a hug. He always knew the right things to say to her. Most often, the best thing to do with Renee was to make her think she’d gotten her way and give her some space to realize that she didn’t know everything. She’d come around and apologize and promise never to do it again, even though she’d do it again in two hours.

* * *

“At the risk of sounding like I’m asking you out, do you want to come to this thing I’m going to this weekend?” I said to Hannah before class the next day.