Contessa (16 page)

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Authors: Lori L. Otto

Tags: #Fiction, #Coming of Age

BOOK: Contessa
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Thanks.

We arrive at the street corner across from
my house, where my brother

s l
ying on the grass, pointing out shapes in the clouds. Dad waves at us. I stop, hoping that Jon notices. He pauses, looking at me.

I wish I could kiss you again,

I whisper in his ear. His cheeks turn pink as he glances in my father

s direction, and I suddenly fear that he will grant me my wish. Afraid of Dad seeing that and changing his mind about letting me go out with Jon, I start to walk away from him.


Hey,

he says as he touches my shoulder. I turn around and give him a warning glance, shaking my head. He leans toward me quickly, but keeps his feet planted at an acceptable distance.

Saturday,

he says only loud enough for me to hear.

I bite my lip, trying to hide the smile.

Okay.


Hi, Jack!

he yells from across the street.

Gotta run. The SAT

s are Saturday!


Good luck!

my dad returns.

And as always, thanks for walking her home.


My pleasure. Bye, Livvy.


Good luck,

I tell him.

But you won

t need it.

When Saturday finally comes, storm clouds loom overhead all day, and finally decide to unleash their wrath around six o

clock. Trey is a bundle of energy, unable to play outside as he normally does on the weekends. He typically has t-ball games on Saturday mornings, but the lightning and threat of rain caused them to cancel all games last night.


Can you calm him down?

I ask my dad as Trey plays loudly with his toy cars in the basement just outside my room.
My
nerves are shot and I

m incredibly anxious about tonight.


That

s why I

m down here, Contessa,

he says.


Dad, don

t call me that tonight, okay?

He looks at me, taken aback.

I

ll try, Liv. Can I ask why?


Because it

s a dumb nickname.

He shifts his focus to the toys strewn across the floor.


Dumb, huh?

he mutters.

Right. Hey, Jackson, let

s get this room picked up. We can take some of these to your bedroom, but the basement

s off-limits tonight,

he tells my brother.

Any other requests?

he asks me tersely.


Why is the basement off-limits?

I ask him angrily.


Well,
Olivia
,

he says sarcastically,

in case you and Jon decide to watch a movie or something after dinner. Your room

s off-limits to
you
, though.


I know that,

I snap at him.


Good. Glad we

re on the same page.

I roll my eyes at him.

Livvy, don

t make me regret this,

he warns me.

I can turn him away at the front door if your attitude doesn

t improve.


You wouldn

t do that.


Can

t you show just a little bit gratitude? I raised you better than this.

I sigh before answering him curtly.

Sorry.

He raises his eyebrows.

I am, Dad,

I say, softening my voice.

I

m sorry.


That

s better, Tessa

Livvy
,

he corrects himself as he directs Trey up the stairs with a handful of toys. He stops at the base of the stairway and turns around to me.

Are you nervous?

I just nod my head quickly and try to smile.


Don

t be. You look beautiful, and he

s just the same boy you

ve known all these years. And your mom and I won

t embarrass you, don

t worry.


Promise?


I promise,

he assures me.

We just want to learn a little more about him. That

s all tonight

s about.


I really like him,

I tell him.

So, please, try to like him, too, okay?


If it will put your mind at ease, I like what I know of him so far. I don

t think you need to worry. Just be
you
tonight. Be the Livvy we all know and love.


Okay.


Alright.

He gives me a hug just as the doorbell rings.


I

ll get it!

I yell, bounding past my father and up the basement stairs. Trey

s already at the door by the time I reach the foyer. I look on the patio to see Jon standing just under the shelter of the patio awning. He

s wearing a striped button-down shirt and a matching tie with slacks, but he

s soaking wet, holding a broken umbrella.

Oh, my god, come in,

I tell him, pulling on his arm.

He stands firm, shaking his head.

I shouldn

t, I

ll get water everywhere. I got caught in the storm.


Jon, please, come in,

my dad says warmly, opening the front door wide and motioning for Jon to join us in the house.

It

s water. It

s fine.

Jon throws the mangled umbrella on the porch and wipes his wet dress shoes on the wet doormat. His face is flushed and he shakes his head in embarrassment as he comes inside.

We all turn to face my mother when she finally joins us in front of the stairway.

Jon,

she says.

I don

t think I would have known you if I ran into you on the street. You

ve grown so much.


So it

s not the drowned rat look that

s made me unrecognizable?


Well,

she admits as she laughs,

it doesn

t help. Horrible weather tonight, huh?


To say the least. This isn

t the way I wanted to start the evening.

He shrugs his shoulders, defeated.


Don

t be silly,

Mom says.

Livvy, why don

t you show him where the bathroom is. There are towels in there. I

ll go grab a shirt of Jack

s for you to put on. I

m sure it will be a little big on you, but at least you

ll be drier.


I couldn

t, Mrs. Holland,

he says.


It

s Emi,

she corrects him,

and you can. I can

t send you back to your mom with pneumonia. It

s not my style.

Both of my parents start up the stairs to their bedroom.


Fair enough,

he agrees.

So much for the tie.

He starts to unknot it.


Dad

s got plenty, if you really want one.

Jon laughs a little as I point him to the restroom on the other side of the stairs.

Yours is nice, though.


I just wanted to impress them,

he tells me in earnest.


Just be yourself,

I encourage him, giving him the same advice my dad had just given me. I know that they

ll like him if they give him a chance.


Your parents are really important people, Livvy.


They

re just parents,

I tell him, shrugging my shoulders and ignoring what I think he

s implying about my parents

social status.


Right, they

re
your
parents. They have to like me.


It

s not good enough that I like you?

I ask him.


Our lives will be much easier if they do, too, Livvy.


How so?


Well, I

m hell-bent on dating you, so I

d rather do it with their blessing than have to sneak around behind their backs.

I smile at him.

But don

t get me wrong, I

ll do that if I have to,

he whispers as we hear my parents coming back down the stairs.

My dad hands him a thermal henley.

I

ve never worn it.


Thank you, sir,

Jon says politely, going inside the restroom and pulling the door shut after him. Mom proceeds to mop up the water in the hallway while Dad checks on dinner in the kitchen. I sit and wait patiently on the couch in the living room for the guy I like, the guy who looks even more attractive soaking wet. The drenched, thin shirt he had chosen to wear outlined defined arm muscles that I

m not sure I

d ever seen before. I wish my dad had given him a short-sleeved shirt.

The wheat-colored henley is too big for Jon and hangs loosely from his shoulders when he emerges from the bathroom. Even with the muscles he does have, he

s still tall and lean and can

t quite fill the shirt like my father

s fit body could. I can

t help but think he looks more boyish in this shirt, and wonder internally if that might have been my parents

plan in choosing it.

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