The Way to Game the Walk of Shame (12 page)

“And how are your parents? Didn’t your father graduate from Columbia, too?”

“They’re fine. And he did.” Taylor threw a panicked glance over her shoulder at me, and I just shrugged. I did warn her.

I don’t know how or where Mom got all her information, but she always knew more about the kids at school than I did. Not so great, since that means she also knew way too much about my dating history. Although I was surprised that she was just finding out now that I was “dating” Taylor. I would have thought that she would have found out within an hour of that first day. She must be slacking.

“Simmons?” Suddenly Brandon appeared out of thin air like a freakin’ jack-in-the-box. He hovered beside Mom. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Taylor. “You mean Cole Simmons from Winchester & Hewitt?”

“Yes.”

And just like that, his nauseating, charming facade fell into place.
Urgh.
The wide phony grin that snared my mom was fixated on his face as he shook Taylor’s hand, tugging her closer to his side. “I met him a few times at the Hope for Cancer fund-raisers. He’s a brilliant man. Absolutely brilliant. I should have known you were his daughter. You’re his spitting image.”

“Thanks. He’s my stepfather.”

I snorted and had to play it off as a cough. That’s my girl. I shot Taylor a proud smile that she returned with a small wink.

“Of course. Cole and your mother met after your father ran off with that—” Mom broke off her sentence. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up the, well, the incident.”

The expression on Taylor’s face didn’t change. “That’s all right, Mrs. McKinley. It happened a long time ago.”

“Of course.” Mom shot a glance at Brandon. “And I’m actually Mrs. Willard.”

Taylor blinked. “But Evan’s—”

“My mom changed her name after she remarried, but I kept my name.” I crossed my arms and nodded toward Brandon, who seemed to be trying his best to ignore me. His finger kept scratching at his leg, like I was an itch he couldn’t get rid of. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate the Willard name in any way.”

Brandon didn’t let that faze him. “So, Taylor, what’s a smart girl like you doing with Evan?” He laughed as though it were the funniest thing in the world. “Don’t you have enough sense to stay away? Some of us don’t have a choice, but at least you do.”

Mom laughed, too, but her eyes nervously flickered to me. My hands clenched together into tight fists at my sides. I was about to tell him where he could shove it when Taylor spoke up.

“That’s true. I didn’t know what I was getting into when I met Evan.” She gave me a genuinely sweet smile that made me automatically step toward her. I could feel my anger slowly fade as she reached out to take my right hand, gripping it tightly. “Or rather, what I was missing.”

“That’s … nice.” The disgust on his face was evident. Probably couldn’t believe how a deadbeat like me was able to get a girl like Taylor. Thank god he didn’t know it was fake.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I must have brainwashed her or something. But hey, I guess I learned something from you after all, right?” Unable to help myself, I nodded toward my mom, who was studying the beige carpet beneath our feet, always conveniently turning deaf whenever Brandon and I fought. She was a pro at ignoring the truth.

Brandon’s nose flared, and he turned an ugly shade of purple before stomping away. “I need to call the hospital to check on some patients. Let me know when you want me to help you with dinner, Eva.”

Mom didn’t look up or even respond until his study door slammed shut with a bang. She let out a deep breath and smiled at us as though the past three minutes hadn’t happened. “I’m so glad to meet you. Evan never lets me meet any of his girlfriends.”

“I’m sure he was just worried about bringing them home.”

“Oh, I’m sure he brings plenty of girls home. I’m just saying he never let me
meet
any of them before.”

This time Taylor’s laugh was genuine. It got louder when I sat down on the arm of the couch and dropped my head to my knees with a loud smack. Taylor patted my shoulder in sympathy.

“Did you eat yet?” Mom asked. “I can whip up a quick batch of chocolate-chip cookies. Or maybe you could even stay for dinner?” Her eagerness was obvious to everyone.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Willard, but I should go home to eat dinner with my parents soon. I wouldn’t mind taking those cookies home, though,” Taylor quickly added when Mom’s face fell. “My dad has a major sweet tooth.”

“Wonderful! I’ll make them right now. It won’t take any time at all.”

Unable to take Mom’s fawning anymore, I grabbed Taylor’s hand and pulled her toward the stairs. “Come on. We’ll be back in a bit.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Mom practically floated into the kitchen. If I didn’t know that Brandon was an uptight ass, I would have thought they had stopped at a bar or something.

I shook my head. “You better run while you still can. If she could, she’d probably stuff you with cookies and food until you’re too full to leave and will be forced to marry me.”

Taylor stumbled and fell forward against my back, almost making me trip on the steps. I steadied myself against the wall and whipped around to hold her arm so she wouldn’t topple over and hurt herself. Her cheeks were a bit pink as she moved a few steps down so I was no longer touching her. With one hand firmly on the banister, she waved her other hand for me to keep moving. I gave her a funny look before turning back toward the stairs.

“Your mom’s not that bad,” she continued as though we both hadn’t almost fallen off the stairs. “She actually reminds me a lot of my mom. Minus the baking. My mom can’t bake to save the world.” She stopped laughing when we reached the top and I headed toward my room. “Wait, where are we going?”

“Where do you think?”

“But … but we agreed that we wouldn’t go into your room.”

“Yeah, well, I just know I need to get as far away from
him
as possible.” I waved my hand toward the stairs. “But if you want to hang out with them, then be my guest.” I went into the room without seeing if she would follow.

She did. Slowly. As though she was worried that the door was going to snap shut and lock her in. I flopped on the bed and waited to see what she would do.

When Taylor was certain that I wasn’t going to throw her on the bed and jump her bones or something, she edged closer into the room. Her fingertips traced the painted waves on my surfboard before she walked over to the dresser and bookshelves. She peered at each of the pictures on the surface, skipping all the pictures with the girls and lingering on the ones I’d taken a few weeks ago of a coral reef when I went scuba diving.

Finally, she sat down on my desk chair and spun the chair around and around. “Your room looks different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s just not what I remembered.”

I glanced around, but it looked the same to me. It’s not like I had underwear and bras hanging around. In fact, I don’t think another girl had been in here since Lauren a few months ago. Besides Taylor.

“So you were right.” She finally swung the chair around to face me. “Your stepdad really is a jackass.”

I laughed and shrugged. “Unfortunately, he treats my mom pretty well, so I can’t kick his ass like I want to.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Really? Because he seems like the controlling type.”

“Oh, believe me, he is. But compared to how her life was before, living with him is like a fairy tale.”

“Why? What was it like before?”

“Difficult.” I leaned my body upward to settle my weight on my elbows and watched her closely for her reaction. “My dad was in jail a lot, so she had to worry about all the other stuff, like bills and taking care of me while she finished her nursing degree.”

Taylor didn’t ask me what he did time for like I thought she would. I couldn’t have told her even if she did ask. I never knew why he hopped in and out of jail so much. It was probably for minor misdemeanors instead of something major, since he was never gone for too long. At least not until that last time nearly four years ago, when Mom finally had enough and divorced him. It wasn’t long before Brandon swooped in from the sidelines to take advantage of her.

Still, Taylor wasn’t reacting like people usually do when they found out about my dad. Pity. Disgust. Or even awe from a couple of girls who thought I was a broken boy who needed to be taken home and fixed. In fact, Taylor barely reacted at all. Her eyelashes fluttered a bit, but that was it.

“Where is he now?”

Clasping my hands beneath my head, I stared up at the ceiling. “I haven’t heard from him in a while. But I think he’s in Florida. Or at least that’s what my mom says.”

The edge of my bed dipped a little as she sat next to me. “I don’t get it. It’s just—you looked surprised when I said my dad was the jerk. But it sounds like your dad isn’t that great, either. But you’re not mad at him? At all?”

Mad? I had plenty of reasons to be mad, but I wasn’t. Not at all.

It was stupid, but even though he was a horrible husband, he was a great dad. He took me to ball games and motor races. He listened to me ramble into the night about cartoons on TV or comic books that I read at the store. He even brought me to the aquarium for the first time when I was ten, and back every few months when he saw how much I loved it.

It’s hard to be pissed at someone when all of your best memories are of him.
With
him. Even if he did leave us. And didn’t bother fighting for us at all.

Okay, maybe I was a
little
mad.

I stared up at the plastic stars on the ceiling. My plastic stars. Dad bought them and stuck them along my doorway and ceiling moldings. When Mom married Brandon, I took them with me, even though they were hard as hell to pry off. Nor did they want to stick to the ceiling of my new room. But I needed them. I may be an unwelcome guest in this house, but at least the room would feel like home to me. They finally stuck, with the help of a portable hot-glue gun. And it gave me a sense of satisfaction to ruin Brandon’s precious house.

“Evan?” I snapped back to the present when Taylor touched my shoulder. For a second, I had forgotten she was even there. “Sorry if I’m a little annoying.”

I grasped her hand and pulled her until she flopped down on her back beside me. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault you’re nosy.”

She shoved at me but didn’t pull away. We lay there side by side in silence. It was a comfortable silence. Our arms were inches apart. If I stretched out my hand, I could probably touch hers. I didn’t, though. I didn’t want to somehow ruin the moment.

“It’s simple,” I finally said. “He’s my dad. The only one I’ll ever have.”

“Huh. I guess we think differently, then.” Her voice was quiet and flat.

I knew I should leave it alone, but I wasn’t going to. “Why did you lie about your dad leaving?”

Her hand rose toward the ceiling, and she used her index finger to trace connecting stars into invisible shapes only she could see. “I didn’t. He did leave us. I just left out the part about who he left with.”

“Who was that?”

“I don’t know. Some waitress he got pregnant a few years after I was born. After Kimmy was born, she came back and told him about their kid. And he decided he’d rather play house with her than stay with us.” The bed moved again when Taylor rolled over to face me. “So when it comes to our daddy issues, we’re completely different.”

I turned on my side, too, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “He’s an idiot. I would have chosen you in a heartbeat. And it’s not surprising that we’re different. I mean, I’m handsome, smart, funny, and heart-stoppingly charming, while you’re—”

“You forgot delusional.”

“For you? I’m getting to that.”

She snorted. “Is this the charm you were bragging about? Because I think it could use some work.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to make you regret that.”

“How?”

In a blink of an eye, I rolled over and had her pinned beneath me. She squeaked and pushed me away, but my leg had her firmly secured while I planned my attack. My fingers slid down to her waist, and her squeals melted away to laughter as I tickled her. Tears quickly came to her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

After a few minutes, I finally stopped, and we panted to catch our breath. It only took a few seconds for me to realize that we had never been this close before. Practically plastered against each other. Not that we could remember anyway.

And even more surprising, it felt good. Damn good. Taylor must have realized it, too, because she froze beneath me. Her eyes slid from my face to my chest. I could practically
feel
the heat in her eyes.

My stomach clenched at the feel of her body pressed against mine, her arms wrapped around my neck. Her heart thudded hard against me. Or was that mine? I wiped away the lingering tears on her cheeks. “So what should we do now?” I murmured, already lowering my head toward hers.

She let out a shuddering breath that made her body move up and down. “We—we should go downstairs and see if your mom needs help making the cookies.” With that said, she scooted out from beneath me and hurried toward the door.

I froze for a moment. My elbows held up my weight as though Taylor were still there. For a second, I had forgotten about Brandon and my dad and her dad and basically everybody in the world but us. I even forgot about the fact that we were just
pretending
to be dating. All I wanted right now was for her to be back in my arms. Wide, brown eyes staring up at me.

With a groan, I collapsed on the bed.

10

{Taylor}

Today would have been another
Dear Diary
moment if I still had one. I did when I was younger. A navy hardcover spiral notebook with pastel-blue pages. The kind with a little metal lock on it and a key necklace. I wrote in it every day until I realized how easy it was to break the flimsy lock that was the only barrier to my innermost thoughts and desires. Then
bam!
Into the trash it went.