Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4) (8 page)

I had been staring at the letter on my desk all morning. It didn’t look as pristine as it did three months ago. I don’t know how many times I had folded and unfolded it. Reading the same lines over and over again, still not finding the courage to bring it up to my parents.

“It is our pleasure to inform you that your application for admission to the School of Art and Design at Pratt Institute for the Fall Semester has been approved. We congratulate you on your acceptance and look forward to having you begin your professional studies at Pratt.”

I never in my wildest dreams thought I would get in. Not a chance in hell they would accept my application. I had known about Pratt, School of Art and Design, since I was a kid. Anyone with the kind of passion I had for drawing knew that this was
the
school to attend if you wanted a career in arts. They were the number one art school in the US, receiving thousands of applications. Getting in was a miracle itself.

My parents had been on my ass about college and applying to schools for months. I finally applied to a few, including Ohio State, just to get them off my ass. The truth was I didn’t even want to go to fucking college, but Pratt…

That was different.

Being the number one art school, I thought maybe that bit of information would sway my parents’ opinion on the subject. So I applied. My GPA was decent, even though school wasn’t really my thing. I had already started a portfolio of my drawings, years of adding sketches upon sketches into it. All I was required to do was send in my application with a few sketches, some letters of recommendation which my art teachers were more than happy to provide, and an application fee. I shoved my packet into the mailbox one morning before school and didn’t give it a second thought.

I started to check the mailbox on a daily basis so I could intercept the mail from the schools I had no interest in attending. I would throw away the response letters without even opening them. I didn’t care if I got in, I wasn’t going to Stanford or Florida State or whatever other fucking school they made me apply to. I tried to voice my opinion, but I could never get a word in, and if I did, it went in one ear and out the other.

My parents weren’t bad people, but they were overachievers. Always needing the best of the best and wouldn’t settle for anything less. Out of all of our families, mine was the best off financially. My parents’ had to have nice things. We lived in a big house in a high-end, gated community. They were VIP members at the country club. They had new cars every year. We went on expensive vacations.

The whole nine yards.

To me, they were just keeping up with the Jones’.

I couldn’t tell you how many times the boys and Half-Pint’s parents fucked with my parents. Saying that they worked too much, that we didn’t own our things, they owned us.

I knew at the end of the day they wanted what was best for me. Not thinking that maybe I already knew what that was. They were suffocating me and they didn’t even realize it. In their eyes, everything was the way it was supposed to be.

Which was why I had been holding onto the acceptance letter for the last three months, debating on telling them. Praying every day that they would be supportive of my decision, even though I knew in my heart that they would shut it down. All my life I felt like my parents, the boys, and maybe even Alex, were all trying to mold me into something I wasn’t.

Something they wanted me to be.

I never felt accepted, I never felt good enough, and that’s what killed me the most. That’s what ate away at me, piece by piece.

At the end of the day… I needed to make myself happy. Life was too short, you only lived once, and all that other bullshit.

I wanted to make the best of it.

I grabbed the letter off my desk along with my art portfolio. No one knew about my talent, except Alex. I wanted to keep it to myself, and maybe that was my first mistake. For the first time in my life, I had to show everyone who I was, and I was scared shitless. I would start with my parents, they loved me and I knew that. I just hoped they loved me enough to let me come into my own.

If I wanted them to accept me for who I was or who I wanted to be, I guess I should start by giving them a chance.

“Austin, there you are, honey, I was about to call you down. Dinner’s almost ready. Will you help me set the table?”

I nodded, placing the letter and portfolio on my chair. We sat down shortly after for dinner, and I waited until my dad asked me his usual dinnertime questions.

“How was school?”

“Fine.”

“Have you heard back on any more colleges?”

“Honey, I thought we decided he was going to go to Ohio State with the boys?” My mama interjected. “It’s a great school, and he wants to be with his friends. I think it’d be good if they all stayed together. You know Austin has always needed a leader.”

My eyes widened, but I quickly recovered, glancing over at my thirteen-year-old brother, Hunter. He shook his head, just as shocked as I was.

“Darla, it would be good for the boy to broaden his horizons. He can’t always be following around the boys. He’s never going to come out of their shadows.”

“I know, honey, but he needs them. He’s always needed them. They will look out for him. They always have.”

I scoffed, “You guys do realize I’m sitting right here, right?” They always did this, talking about me like I wasn’t in the damn room. “Can’t you wait until I at least leave the room to point out more things I can’t do?”

“Austin,” Mom coaxed. “We don’t mean it like that. You’re the baby of the group. The boys have always been… well you know, honey. More mature and stuff. It’s normal for us to worry.”

I scoffed, “
Mature
? Are you for real?”  

“Austin, watch your tone,” Dad ordered.

I would never rat out my boys, but fuck… if my parents only knew.

“I’m sorry.”

Mom smiled and Dad shook his head. Now was as good a time as any.

“About college,” I said, wiping my mouth with my napkin, bringing their attention back to me. “I got accepted into another school. One that I really want to attend.”

They beamed. I’d never said I wanted to go to any college before.

“It’s in New York—”

“We didn’t know you applied to NYU. That’s an amazing university. I’m so proud of you, Austin!” she rambled on.

“Brooklyn, New York,” I clarified. “It’s Pratt Institute, School of Art and Design.”

They both jerked back, confused.

“It’s actually the number one art school in all of the country, and I honestly don’t know how I got accepted but,” I set the letter in front of them and finished, “I did.”

My dad picked up the letter off the table and read it over, with Mom hovering over his shoulder to read too. Both of their faces void of any emotion.

I waited. 

“Art school, Austin? Where is this coming from? You’ve never showed any interest in arts,” she stated, smiling, holding back a laugh.

“Actually, I have.” I sat up in my seat, grabbing my portfolio that was sitting beside me.

My heart was pounding and my palms were getting sweaty. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pulled back the cover, showing them the first few sketches. Their faces were the blank canvas I was used to drawing on. They took in the sketches that had bled out through my hands.

But I still couldn’t read them at all. My mom grabbed the notebook from my trembling hands and continued turning pages, one after the other. Running her fingers over the illustrations. Realizing what I had kept from them.

“I’ve been drawing since I could hold a pencil, Mom,” I added, trying to gain a response. “My art teachers wrote my letters of recommendation. I actually think they were the reasons I got in. They’ve been telling me I have a God given talent since elementary school—”

“They never told us,” Mom interrupted, taken aback.

I shrugged. I wanted to say it was because they never bothered to go into their rooms during parent night. That they always said electives didn’t matter, but I bit my tongue. It wouldn’t help my case. Mom flipped page, after page, after page until she was almost to the end.

Nothing.

“I have some more sketches up in my room. I’ll go—”

“No,” Dad snapped, locking eyes with me.

“I’ll just be a minute—”

“I don’t need to see anymore of this garbage, Austin. Is this why you’re an average student?”

He pulled my portfolio out of my mom’s hands, throwing it in the middle of the table. It rattled the dishes.

“Dad, it’s not—”

He put his finger up in the air, silencing me. I swallowed hard.

“Money on tutors, money on after-school help, afterschool SAT practice courses, do you want me to go on?  We have spent thousands of dollars to get you the best education, and
this
is why you’re always struggling? Because you spend more time on a hobby? You wasted all this time with your head up in the goddamn clouds, when it should have been focused on your homework?”

“Joseph…”

He put his hand out in front of my mother, silencing her as well.

“This is an out-of-state private school, Austin. You think we’re going to pay for that?”

“I don’t know, Dad. You were going to pay for the other ten out-of-state private schools you made me apply to.”

He leaned back into his chair, shaking his head. “Yes. For an education. For a profession. For your future.”

“This is my future. This is what I want to do with my life,” I argued through gritted teeth, anger began to take over me.   

“To become what, Austin? A starving artist? Who will always depend on us to pay his bills? What will you do in your long-term future, Austin? Do you think an arts degree will help you raise a family one day?”

“Dad, that’s—”

“Hunter, go to your room,” he ordered, not letting my brother finish. “The last thing I want is your brother rubbing off on you.”

“Dad—”

“Hunter, just go!” I broke in, giving him a sympathetic stare.  

He left.

“Austin.”

I glanced back at my dad.

“We’re not paying for this. Do you understand me? You’re not going to Pratt, end of story. I realize now that you don’t even want to bother with college, so I won’t force you to go to an Ivy League school. It would be a waste of your time and my money, but so help me God, you will go to Ohio State and get some kind of a degree that will earn you a living. If you choose Pratt, you will have to carry your own weight.”

They were killing my soul, crushing my dreams without even batting an eye about it. I immediately resented them for trying to mold me into their liking, not mine.

“How am I supposed to pay my way? I can’t even apply for financial aid. You don’t think I’ve looked into it? You guys make too much money. You’re literally my last resort. Why can’t you use my college fund for Pratt? I will even get a job and rent an apartment on my own. I’ll take care of all my own expenses. All I ask is for you to pay for my school. Please… I’ve never asked for anything. This is important to me. This is what I want for
my
future.”

“This conversation ends now, Austin. I’ve said my piece. End of story.”

They weren’t taking this away from me. Not now. Not ever. I had never disrespected my parents; I was raised better than that… but in that moment, in that second…

They weren’t acting like my parents.

They were complete fucking strangers.

“And here I thought you would actually be happy and excited for me,” I mocked.

He shook his head, disappointed. “
Happy and excited for you?
To see you want to throw away your life? On a hopeful dream that won’t get you anywhere but asking for spare change on the side of the road? Unbelievable. How about you show your mother and I some respect? For everything we’ve done for you.”

“I didn’t know that respect was earned off my major, old man. That’s a lot to ask of a college. Don’t you think?”

“Austin…” Mom warned.

I laughed, “I’m sorry. I forgot. I still live under your roof. I follow your rules or else. You remind me daily. I should have it memorized by now.”

He instantly stood and was over to me in two strides. Right in my face, grabbing my t-shirt in his fist.

“Listen to me. If it weren’t for your mother, I would cut you off the second you graduate from high school. But I’m giving you a chance to straighten out, even though all you do is cause trouble. Whether at school, with your teachers or classmates, or all the girls you hang around with. We give you everything. Everything and you shit all over it. I’m surprised you haven’t knocked someone up yet.”

I snidely smiled. “Well, you did one thing right by me. You taught me that I should always wrap it up. Congratulations, I know how to put on a condom.”

He didn’t falter. “You make it hard to want you as my son,” he viciously spewed, instantly regretting his words.