Sweet (True Believers #2)(56)
Author: Erin McCarthy

But Riley ignored me just like my father did. He met his hard stare with one of his own. “No, sir, I am not.”

I wasn’t sure how entirely accurate that was, considering we did dry hump on a regular basis, but I was just so appalled by the question that I wasn’t even sure what to say.

“But you want to.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

Riley nodded. “Of course. Jessica is a beautiful woman and I care a great deal about her.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. Did anyone notice that I was still in the room while they sat there and discussed me?

“Dad, my sex life is none of your business,” I told him firmly.

It was that point that my mother walked into the room. “What on earth?” she asked, coming to a complete stop in the doorway, her hand going to her throat. “Jessica, what sex life? What the hell is going on here? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

Mom was swearing. And saying the word “sex” out loud. Now I really knew I was in trouble.

“No sex life,” I said firmly. “We are not having this conversation.”

“Who is this?” My mother eyed Riley like he was mold growing in the shower grout.

“This is her boyfriend, she says. This is why she lied to us, she clearly wanted to spend the summer with him.”

“That is not true,” I insisted, feeling this spiral out of control even more. I was trying to be honest for the first time in, oh, ever, and no one would listen to me. The irony was frustrating. “I lied to you because I didn’t want to come home for the summer and deal with having to do what you want me to do.”

My mother said, “What, like helping with Sunday school? You’d rather be getting drunk and dancing suggestively with random boys?”

Well, when she put it that way it didn’t sound very good. “No. I just want to be able to make my own choices. I’m not interested in the legacy of the church. I’m sorry, I know that hurts you, but I’m not going to marry one of your staff, Daddy. I can’t. I would be horrible as a preacher’s wife and the thought makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs.”

I hadn’t meant to get so specific. I had intended to just explain why I hadn’t come home, but I guess the truth was it was all interconnected. I couldn’t explain without being completely honest. “I don’t want to study theology and I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not when I’m with you.”

My mother made a sound of annoyance.

My father studied me. “Are you saying you’ve lost your faith entirely?”

“No.” I fingered my cross necklace. “I believe in God and I believe in Christian kindness. But I don’t believe in judging other people and I don’t believe that I’m a bad person because I do things you may not like.” I wasn’t a bad person. I really wasn’t, and I realized that maybe with the freedom to be myself, I would become an even better person. That I would discover my purpose, my passion.

“So basically you’d like a personalized Jessica Plan, with the rules changing with your mood? Whatever you like is okay morally?” Dad said. “Moral ambiguity is a slippery slope to Hell.”

Uh. No. I had firm beliefs and that sentence sounded super snarky. This conversation was not going to go in my favor. Though why I had thought it would was beyond me.

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t just come to us and say you didn’t want to come home,” my mother said, her bobbed hair not moving an inch even though she was shaking her head rapidly.

“Come on, if I had done that, you wouldn’t have let me stay in Cincinnati.”

Neither disputed that.

“Where are you staying?”

“I subletted an apartment.”

“So you’re not living with him?” my father asked, gesturing to Riley.

“His name is Riley,” I said pointedly, because I was super embarrassed by my dad’s pretentious treatment of him. “And no, technically I don’t live with him, but I spent a lot of time there. And yes, sometimes I spend the night.”

“Are you still pure?” was the awesome follow-up question.

The implication that if I wasn’t a virgin I was impure—dirty—made me flinch. But I held up my head and said clearly, “No.” Let them vilify me.

Riley made a sound in the back of his throat.

My mother made a sound of horror and she looked at me with such disgust that I dug my nails into my legs, a sense of shame that I didn’t want to own rushing over me.

“Him?” Mom asked, gesturing to Riley. “This is who you gave your virginity to?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Riley.” It could be amusing to think that we hadn’t even had sex yet, but I was too upset to appreciate the irony. “This is about me trying to explain to you that I can’t be who you want me to be.”

“What, modest? How many boys have you slept with?” Mom asked. “Please tell me it was just the one.”

“I’m not discussing this with you.” And I would keep saying it until someone heard me. “What I’m trying to get you to understand is that I get it that you think of women as fitting into two categories—whores and the Madonna. But I’m neither. I’m just Jessica, somewhere in between, and I love you and I want you to accept me.” Tears formed in my eyes and I could hear the pleading in my voice and it horrified me. Being vulnerable wasn’t easy, especially not with Riley sitting next to me seeing my humiliation.

“So in other words, it was more than one.” My mother’s mouth pressed into a thin line, her red lipstick disappearing into her frown.

My heart sank. So that was that. That was her response and it wasn’t even close to what I wanted, no, needed, to hear.

My father cleared his throat. “You have two choices, Jessica. You can stay here for the rest of the summer under our roof with our rules and go back to school for the coursework we agreed on together, you and I”—he pointed back and forth between us—“or you can stay in Cincinnati now and lose our financial support. I cannot condone your lifestyle choices with my wallet.”

My mother was crying now, silent, pretty tears that wouldn’t wreck her makeup.

“I understand,” I said, feeling very calm all of a sudden. Hadn’t I been expecting this for years? I couldn’t pretend forever that I was going to walk the path they had chosen for me and in a sense it was a relief to know I wouldn’t have to anymore. “I don’t want to waste your money so I think it’s best if I withdraw from school for a while. Can I get my stuff from my room?”