Making Bad Choices Page 12

  What was wrong with me? People didn’t take naps with their stepbrothers. Especially when their stepbrother was as incredibly hot and ripped as Culter was . . . and all that hotness and ripped-ness was completely out in the open from the waist up. And, as if all that wasn’t enough, his amazing chest was at this very moment pressed against my back, and his hand resting on my hip.

  Scooting out of his arm and forward off the bed, my bare feet connected with the hardwood. Gripping my phone in my hand, I rushed out of the room and down the hall, only stopping in the dark kitchen.

  When I pulled my phone up to answer it, it stopped ringing. I blew out a breath and went to my messaging app, texting my dad that I was on the way to the shower. But my dad’s picture interrupted my text as the ringing started all over again.

  I swallowed, staring down at the picture. Shit, this wasn’t me . . . I didn’t act like this. Taking a deep inhale, I answered the phone. “Hey Dad,” I said into the receiver.

  “Hey, honey. Everything okay? I’ve called a couple times.”

  “I—fell asleep,” I said.

  “Oh, of course. Of course, going back to school has to be taking it out of you. You know, you’re welcome to take a few days off,” he said it so sympathetically, I only felt like more of an asshole.

  “No, that’s okay. I’d rather be doing things. I joined a club, after school,” I said, croakily.

  “Art club?” he asked.

  “Newspaper.”

  “Well, that’s different,” he sounded excited.

  “I’m actually drawing for the newspaper, so it’s not that different,” I admitted as I leaned back against the fridge.

  “It sounds great. Are you making friends?”

  “Yeah, um, there’s this girl named Zoe who’s pretty cool. Max has a doppelganger at this school too, which is trippy.”

  “Two Maxes? The world just got a little more dazed and confused.”

  “Oh, Dad, not nice,” I said, though I didn’t feel up to bickering about Max’s habits.

  “How about Culter? Is he being nice to you? You’re getting along?” he asked it as if he was afraid Culter was mistreating me and I’d hide it from him.

  “He’s been nice. He’s having his friends look out for me. It’s almost too nice.”

  “Good . . . good. Jen said he would be, and I trust her judgment. Well, the movers just left. Your stuff should be there in about a week from today. You doing okay with not having your belongings?”

  “Dad, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “I know, honey. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Well, I wanted to run something by you, but please feel free to turn it down. It’s up to you.”

  “Oh?” I wandered over to the kitchen table and took a seat, not feeling at all in a place to be making rational decisions. As evidenced by my afternoon’s napping decision, I had no ability to be rational.

  “Well, Jen and I were talking about maybe offering the condo up for a six month lease while you’re living in Bulvin, just to cover the mortgage.”

  “Dad, it’s your condo, you guys can sell it if you want to. It’s up to you,” I said, rubbing my forehead, feeling a real headache blossoming.

  “Never in a million years, kiddo,” he said, emphatically. “At most we’ll do a six-month lease so it will be open if you want to move into it in June or July.”

  “Well, it’s totally fine by me,” I said.

  “Okay, so the only other thing about it is that Jen will have to stay about another week to finalize everything with the rental company and making sure all the repairs are up to date. Unfortunately, I have to be at the hospital Wednesday through Friday without break, and I can’t get out of it. Also, Joshie has school. So we were thinking that maybe you and Culter could keep an eye on him after he gets out of his afterschool program on the days I’m at work.”

  “Of course, Dad.”

  “Okay, great. Would you mind passing the phone to Culter? He’s the one who’d have to pick Josh up and drop him off.”

  “Yeah . . .” I looked around the darkening kitchen, trying to decide what to say. I could just be like, “Funny thing is, Dad, Culter is also taking a nap. But, no, not with me, of course.” Crappy crap with crap on top.

  I settled on, “I’m not sure where he is . . . let me go look for him.” Leaving my phone on the table, I walked back to my bedroom, finding Culter sprawled out over my covers.

  To wake him or not to wake him? That is the question.

  “Culter?” I whispered from the doorway.

  Nothing.

  Walking over to the bed, I touched his shoulder. “Culter?”

  “Mmmm . . .” He turned over and into my pillow.

  Looked like I was going with plan B. Turning, I walked back to my phone. “You know, Dad, I think he went out while I took a nap. Probably went to get dinner.”

  “Oh. You guys have enough food there, right? I’ll transfer your account some money, baby.”

  A low groan came from the direction of my bedroom. I glanced back.

  “Dad, I really have to go to the bathroom,” I said, quickly.

  “Oh, yeah. Okay, honey. Just make sure to call if you need anything. We’ll be getting there next Tuesday. Also, have Culter call me when he gets home.”

  A soft thudding sound came from the direction of my room.

  “All right, Dad, I love you,” I said.

  “Cassie?” Culter called out before I could hang up, voice hoarse.

  “Is that Culter?” my dad asked, damn his magic ears.

  “Yeah, he just walked in through the door,” I said, my voice just a little off.

  The kitchen light turned on and Culter stood framed in the entrance of the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck and blinking around the kitchen. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” he asked, not quite focusing on me.

  “Mind putting him on, Cassie?” my dad asked.

  “One second.” I covered my receiver. “My dad wants to talk to you.”

  Culter nodded, and then yawned. Trudging across the kitchen, he took the phone from me and put it to his ear.

  “Hey, Frank.” Scratching the back of his head, he listened for a minute, and then simply said, “Yeah, no problem.” He hung up the phone and handed it over. Eyes still half closed, he focused on me, “You hungry?”

  I didn’t say anything for a few seconds and then nodded. “Sure.”

  “How about pasta?” He turned to the fridge.

  He didn’t think that whole thing was at all weird? Either Culter was insane or I was insane, there was no other option.

  “Huh?” He looked back at me.

  “Pasta sounds good,” I said.

  “Cool.”

  As I stared at his bare back, I promised myself that I would never be stupid enough to take a nap with my stepbrother again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On Thursday, Spencer decided that he was going to throw me a party. I say decided because he didn’t ask me; he threw his arm around my shoulders at lunch and yelled down the length of our very crowded table. “Listen up, everyone! I’m throwing Cassie a Welcome to Bulvin Party this Saturday, you’re all invited.”

  My head shot up from where I’d been inking over my sketches. Tyler and I were in the final stages of our comic, and across the table from me, Tyler was also hunched over another sketch, inking according to my express directions. I’d realized this morning, there was no way I’d get the comic inked in time if I didn’t force him to help me. Next week, when I’d had the weekend to prepare, maybe I’d be able to whip this shit out, but this time around, not so much.

  “Yeah!” Some guy down the table yelled. I say some guy because I had no idea who half the people were at this table, because there were so many freaking people at this overcrowded table.

  I’d been sitting at Culter’s friends’ table everyday so far this week, mostly because I hadn’t thought of a way to tactically slip off from Culter after we’d gone through the lunch line togeth
er.

  Spencer squeezed my shoulders again. “Cassie is going to show us how to party like the L.A. ladies do!”

  Holy fuck.

  My gaze immediately shot to where Culter sat a little way down the table. His blue eyes found mine, a look of concern setting on his features. His gaze flicked between me and Spencer, his jaw working like he was thinking.

  I had thought it was such a freaking good idea to take the open seat next to Spencer, as it made it impossible for Culter to take the seat beside me.

  Culter sat a little way down the table next to Misty and Snow White—whose real name had fled my mind—and they’d been completely distracting him for the entire lunch period. It was very good for my brain to see him there, flirting with a couple pretty girls. Actually, I’d say that seeing him flirting with those girls was a much-needed reality check. Culter was one hundred percent the kind of guy that could take a nap while holding me against him and think nothing of it. And he not only thought nothing of it, after his practice yesterday, he’d taken a shower and come into my room right after to pass out next to me while I sketched. He hadn’t said anything this time, just lay down next to me and passed out.

  Yesterday, it was much easier to ignore him as I’d been deep in concentration on getting my sketching completed; especially as that time, thankfully, he had a shirt on. At least it had been easy to ignore him until he was fast asleep, then I couldn’t stop my gaze from wandering over every couple minutes.

  Likely, Culter was just one of those people who hated to be alone, and that was it.

  Spencer turned to me. “Hey, Cassie? What are you thinking so hard about?” he asked.

  I realized that I’d been just staring off at Culter, as if my brain fried at the suggestion that I’d be the guest of honor at a Bulvin party this Saturday.

  I turned to look into Spencer’s beautiful smiling face. Obviously, the choice to not tell anyone that my mom had passed only two weeks ago had been a big fat mistake. “Just tired. But, yeah, thanks Spencer,” I managed.

  He nodded, and everyone started talking over each other about plans for how they’d get booze. Every face smiled, and the buzz of excitement had a tangible feel as it rose around us.

  Tyler caught my gaze as I glanced from face to face down the length of the table. His eyebrows rose in concern, making me think that maybe one person at this table besides Culter knew about my mom.

  I blew out a breath while doing a gesture with my hands trying to signal that I had no idea what to do. Tyler tipped his head in the direction of the door.

  I gave him the slightest nods back.

  “Yo, Cassie, I’m done. We should get these up to Ms. Hamilton,” Tyler shouted over the noise, pulling the sketches together on the table.

  I turned to Spencer and tried to smile. “I’m going to need my shoulders back.”

  “Fine,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, letting go of me. “When are you guys going to tell us what the hell you’re doing with those drawings?”

  “It’s a surprise. You’ll find out next Monday,” Tyler said with a grin as he stood.

  I grabbed my backpack, which I’d been carrying around to keep all my sketching stuff together, and did a quick glance over to Culter. Culter looked between me and Tyler with his elbows on the table. Behind him, Snow White just talked at him, though his attention was fully away from her.

  Culter began to stand, but stopped when I shook my head. ‘You okay?’ he mouthed.

  I nodded, giving him a tight smile. ‘Just taking these up, see you in Spanish,’ I mouthed back as I held up my sketches.

  He nodded, but I felt his gaze track Tyler and me while we scooted out of the mass of bodies that made up the table Culter’s group of friends always claimed.

  When Tyler and I were safely out of the cafeteria, he turned to me. “You going to go?” he asked.

  I grabbed at the straps of my backpack. “Shit, I don’t know what to do, Tyler.”

  “Your mom just died, didn’t she?” he asked.

  I looked back. “Culter didn’t tell you?”

  “No, but I knew she had cancer and that was why you haven’t visited here since you were in fifth grade.”

  I nodded as it was pretty easy math that after a seven year battle with cancer, I’d only move here if she lost the war. Chewing on a nail, I muttered, “It’s not like I didn’t go to some parties while she was in treatment, my mom actually encouraged me to party. She was weird like that, always trying to get me to go out and be crazy. But it just feels wrong right after she died.” A mist of tears bleared out the staircase we headed for.

  Tyler nodded. “Okay, so what are your options?”

  “Fake sick?” I suggested.

  He nodded. “You could, though I doubt anyone would believe you’re sick, but you could do it if you want. You might just have to deal with people giving you a hard time, especially Spencer.”

  “I could tell Spencer about my mom and he could tell everyone that I’m sick.” Even though I’d suggested it, I immediately knew that wasn’t what I wanted to do.

  Tyler nodded. “Sure, he’d do that. Spencer’s a good guy; he’d never have put you on the spot like that if he knew what you’re going through.”

  We walked up the staircase in silence.

  Halfway up the stairs, Tyler leaned in. “Do you smoke?”

  I nodded slowly, pretty sure that he didn’t mean cigarettes. “Rarely.”

  It was never much of a taboo thing in my family, as my mom smoked every night with a prescription. It was kind of like wine for us, I wasn’t supposed to have it but she didn’t look down on it either.

  She never encouraged me to smoke, but the couple times she caught Max and me lighting up in my room, she’d just shook her head at us and said, “Bad for your growing brain, guys. Wait until you’re at least twenty-two to start.”

  We’d promise her that we’d wait, usually pretty profusely because we were stoned, and she’d roll her eyes before walking out. Secretly, I thought that she’d preferred that we were doing it at the condo rather than risking getting arrested. I only ever took one or two hits before letting Max smoke the joint like a cigarette anyway, just enough to float a little bit out of my head once in a blue moon.

  Tyler nodded. “Well, if you go, I’ll bring a little and you and I can go out back and smoke. Then you can just tell everyone you don’t like to mix. And then no one will expect you to get wasted and crazy,” he said.

  I glanced around at the empty hall, and then whispered, “I’d probably just be a wallflower weirdo if I was stoned and I didn’t know anyone.”

  “No, we’ll stick together and laugh about stupid shit until everyone passes out. I will even bring snacks.”

  “Maybe.” I bit my lip, thinking that didn’t sound like that bad of a plan. I mean, if I was a better person I’d just commit immediate social suicide at my new school and ditch the party that the most popular guy in school had just announced he was throwing in my honor.

  But, fuck, even though I didn’t want all the attention, I didn’t want to raise my middle finger up at Spencer either. Especially since Spencer was just trying to do something nice for me. I also didn’t want to tell him, or anyone, about my mom. It made it a hell of a lot easier that people weren’t whispering about how sad my life was. Honestly, I didn’t even remember what it felt like to have people not give me sympathetic looks in the halls. Pretty much everyone who knew me at my old school knew that my mom was slowly dying—teachers included.

  For some strange reason, though, it was a hell of a relief that Tyler knew. Even though I barely knew him, since that first day of Auto Tech we’d been in constant contact over our Gunther comic, and I already felt like I could trust him. And, unlike my cynical friends from home, I believed in falling in instant-love with someone, but only when it came to friends. Sometimes you just met people, and you knew. Sure, it hadn’t been like a lightning strike or anything, but even on day three of hanging out with Tyler, I already felt completely c
omfortable sharing something so fragile about me, so that had to say something.

  “Why did he have to announce it?” I grumbled as we got up to the computer lab and stopped outside the door. “I really like Spencer, but I kind of wanted to punch him in the face when he did that.”

  “I don’t think that Spencer has a quiet mode. I doubt he’d ever consider that you’d be busy or that you didn’t want him to throw a party in your honor.”

  I looked over, unsure. “You’ll stick with me the whole party? Like, what if you want to go off with a girl?”

  “I like to keep them guessing. They’ll be like, ‘Why’s he ignoring me? Does he not think I’m pretty?’ Then, I’ll ignore them some more, and they’ll be like, ‘I love him, I want to have his babies.’ Then, I’ll be like, ‘Take a number.’ Then they’ll be like, ‘But I love you, Tyler, you’re majestic.” He used this weird high-pitched voice for the girl in his story, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Wow, Tyler, sounds like I’ll be doing Bulvin’s female population a favor by occupying your time. And what girl sounds like that?”

  “Yeah, you’ll do them a favor in teaching them the deliciousness in going wanting for a guy that would set their beds afire.”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” I bumped my arm into his side. “But you mean it, you won’t leave me? Because, I have this horrible image in my head of me sitting in a corner, being eaten alive by people I don’t know.”

  “I will not leave you, not even in the bathroom, Cassie, I promise. And, if zombies show up, we’ll kill them together, I swear this to you.”

  “Gross, no thank you. And that’s not what I meant by being eaten alive, you know what I meant. Okay, fine. I’m thinking your plan may work, especially the snacks part. I just feel like an asshole, it hasn’t even been two full weeks.”

  “Yeah. It’s up to you. But I’d consider what your mom would want. Would she want you to be at home alone or out with me, stoned and laughing your ass off at my genius level sense of humor?”

  He had to phrase it like that. I massaged into my forehead. “I definitely don’t think she’d want me to be at a house party bawling my eyes out in front of a bunch of strangers.”