Fireworks: A Holiday Bad Boy Romance (70 page)

“You get obsessed about
these little things instead of letting them go when I tell you not to worry
about them,” she interrupts.

“Yeah, how dare I want to
figure out why you’re acting like you’ve got a second or third copy of yourself
walking around, each with different personalities,” I tell her.

“It’s not like that,” she
says. “I just don’t want to get you into anything you’re going to regret.”

Now there’s a shot out of
left field.

“What would you get me
into that I’d regret?” I ask.

“Your dad,” she says. “He
told me that it’s people like me that are making it so hard for you to do what
you need to do to make a good life for yourself. I mean, I hardly even know you
and already I’m causing things to go bad for you.”

“My dad’s a prick,” I
tell her. “If there’s anyone in the world making it difficult for me to have a
good life, it’s that asshole.”

“You live at home,
though,” she says. “It sounds like he’s helping out a lot.”

“Okay, he helps me in
that he lets me live in his home while I’m going to college,” I start. I have
more to say, but Mia’s quicker.

“Isn’t he paying for your
tuition?” she asks.

“Well, yeah, but—” I
stammer.

“So why would you talk
about him like you’re talking about him?” she asks.

“Because he’s a dick!” I
protest. “He helps me out financially and he gives me a place to live and I am
very grateful for that, but the only reason either of those things are true is
because I made a deal with him a few years ago that I’d go to college right out
of high school, I’d stay at home with him and mom, and I’d put schoolwork
before anything with wheels. In exchange, he
allows
me to live in his home and he pays for me to go to college
for something I’m not passionate about and if I were to make too big a fuss
about it, he’d cut me off like that.” I snap my fingers.”

“If things are so
miserable, why not move out?” she asks.

“One of the side-effects
of living at home is extra time,” I tell her. “If I was out on my own right
now, I wouldn’t be able to put so much time into the board and I wouldn’t be
anywhere near prepared for the competition. It’s a means to an end.”

“You’re not particularly
prepared for the competition as it is,” she says, punching me playfully in the
shoulder and we start walking again.

“There’s
one
thing I haven’t been able to get
quite right,” I explain. “In the grand scheme of things, that’s pretty
impressive.”

“It is,” she says. “It’d
be a lot more impressive if that ‘one thing’ wasn’t so completely crucial to
your entire performance, though.” We take a few more steps and she stops again,
saying, “Wait.”

“What?” I ask, stopping
next to her.

“Let’s just talk for a
minute before I get home,” she says.

“I don’t suppose you’re
going to actually listen to me when I tell you that you’re not in danger of
ruining my life, are you?” I ask.

“You’re right,” she says.
“The only person that can really do that is you. I just don’t want to be a bad
influence.”

“Okay,
that
is hilarious,” I tell her. “I think
maybe you knew things were starting to heat up between us and you took the
first out that was presented to you.”

“You’re right,” she says.

“Yeah, I know you’re
going to say that’s not what you were…” I stop. “What was that?” I ask.

“You’re right,” she says.
“I got scared. Okay, your dad helped with the scaring a bit, but I was already
there.”

“What is it about me that
scares you?” I ask.

She crosses her arms and
looks down. “I like you,” she says. “I think I might like you a lot.”

“I like you, too,” I tell
her. “What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem,” she
says. “It’s just, that’s kind of the problem. I’ve got a complicated situation
at home that I’m not sure I’m going to actually be able to get myself out of
anytime soon, and I go to college full time. It’s not the easiest time in my
life to figure out how to squeeze in a relationship, and I know I wouldn’t want
anything with you to just be halfway.”

Wow, she just opened
right up there.

“You’re busy, I’m busy,
we’re all busy,” I tell her, “but if you don’t figure out how to make some time
to enjoy your life, you’re never going to—”

“You always say that,”
she interrupts, “but that’s not it at all. I go out and do things. Just
relationships are more than just the time two people spend together, they’re
everything else and all the time and there’s not really an off-switch or a
time-out signal.”

“I think you’re looking a
bit too far down the road,” I tell her. “We haven’t even kissed yet and we
don’t know where a relationship would go. Wouldn’t it make more sense to find
out before simply calling it—”

“Can we just not…” she
interrupts and I really can’t tell you who makes the first move or if we both
make it at the same time, but before another word leaves her mouth, we’re
kissing right there on the side of the road.

Her arms are resting on
my shoulders and my hands are on her back, pulling her close.

We pull apart long enough
to look at each other with wide-eyed surprise, but an instant later, we’re
making out again and our hands are starting to wander.

I’m not much of an
exhibitionist, but it’s impossible not to get turned on kissing Mia’s soft
lips, her tongue and my tongue coyly mingling with one another.

Then it’s over and I’m
still facing where Mia was only moments ago and she’s walking off, waving and
saying, “Gotta go.”

What the hell was that?

Chapter
Nine

The Art and Impossibility
of Changing Minds

Mia

I come to the front door
of my house, having just left Ian on the side of the road a couple blocks away,
and I feel like people say teenagers are supposed to feel. Maybe that’s just
something to do with us both living with our parents, though.

Earlier, Ian was
complaining about how I just act and don’t tell him what’s going through my
mind and then that happened, whatever
that
was.

My heart’s pounding in my
chest as I open the door and walk inside.

I’ve no more than kicked
my shoes off when my dad pokes his head around the corner, asking if I’ve got a
few minutes to talk.

I follow him into the
living room and he motions for me to sit down.

“What is it?” I ask.
“You’re kind of freaking me out.”

“Please,” he says, “let’s
sit and talk a minute.”

I sit and wait for him to
tell me what’s so urgent, but as usual, he’s content to beat around the bush a
while before getting to the point.

“How was your night tonight?”
he asks.

“It was fine,” I tell
him, still feeling the phantom imprint of Ian’s lips on mine.

“You know, I’ve been
working extra hours to make sure you’ve got enough money for school and a nice
house to live in and clothes and everything you need, right?” he asks.

“What’s up, dad?” I ask,
trying to get him to speed things along.

“Well, I think I may have
done you a disservice, especially over these last few years,” he says. “I’ve
been going to a therapist recently, I don’t know if I told you that.”

“You didn’t,” I respond,
“but I think that’s great, dad.”

“Well, we’ve been talking
and she suggested that maybe I haven’t done enough to prepare you for life and
the real world,” he says. “I think I’ve been trying to hang on to the memory of
you as a child and, in my mind, I haven’t let you grow up.”

“Yeah,” I tell him, “I
seem to remember telling you that a couple times a day for the better part of a
decade.”

“The point is,” he says,
“there’s not a lot left I can do for you. Another year and you’ll be off to
medical school and, as much as I would love for you to stay here for that, too,
I am aware you’ve been looking at out-of-state schools—”

“I’m not trying to get
away from you, dad,” I sigh. “I just want to make sure I get the best possible
education. Psychology’s serious stuff, you know. If I don’t know what I’m
doing, I could cause some serious damage in a person’s life. I want to make
sure I’m absolutely—”

“I know,” he says,
holding up a hand. “I know. I’d love to keep you here with me forever, but I don’t
think that would be fair to you or a good thing for either of us.”

“You’re kicking me out?”
I ask.

“No,” he says hastily.
“Like I told you, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. I just know
that the day’s going to come that you’re going to want to get out of here and
start your own life.”

“What are you trying to
tell me?” I ask. “I really have a lot of stuff to do tonight.”

Okay, that last part’s a
lie, but I’m sick of the pussy-footing.

“You were out with that
boy again tonight, weren’t you?” he asks.

I told him I was out with
Abs, but there doesn’t seem to be much point in denying it.

“Yeah,” I tell him.

“You lied to me,” he
says. “We’ll talk about that later. What I want to talk about now is even more
serious.”

“More serious than a daughter
lying to her father about a guy she likes?” I mock. “Sounds terrifying.”

“I know you think I’ve
been overbearing parent since your mother left, and I don’t know if you realize
it, but I’m kind of learning as I go, here. I get one shot to raise you the
right way and, although I’ve made a lot of mistakes along the way, I love you
more than anything else in this world,” he says.

“I love you too, dad,” I
tell him and wait a few seconds. “Is that it?”

“I want you to stop
seeing him,” dad says.

“No,” I answer without
even thinking about it.

“I know you think you
like him now, but do you really think he would make a good provider for you and
your future family?” he asks.

“Dad,” I moan, “we’re not
even dating. Even if we were, we’re not anywhere near ‘what are you doing for
the rest of your life?’ Besides, you may be my dad, but I’m an adult. I may
live in your house, but you can’t tell me who to spend time with.”

“I can,” he says. “I am.
You’re going to have to be mad at me for a little while,” he says. “I get that,
but I’d rather have you be mad at me for a while than hitch your trailer to a
sinking ship and watch the whole thing blow up.”

“You know, you mixed like
three different platitudes in that one sentence,” I tell him.

“I know you think
skateboarding is exciting now, and of course you’re going to have a special
attraction to any guy who looks like he represents that lifestyle, but it’s not
a lifestyle that has a real future,” he says. “Do you know how many people try
to make it in professional sports, even skateboarding? Out of everyone in the
world, there are only a handful of people who make a decent living skating, and
I’m sure we can both agree that it’s a little naïve to think that he’s going to
be one of them.”

“I really don’t care if
he becomes a pro skater or not,” I tell my dad. “He’s smart, he’s determined.
Yeah, he’s a little unpolished, but that’s not a crime. Besides, who wants to
be around an uptight etiquette freak all the time anyway?”

“Does he have any
prospects?” dad asks.

I know what he’s asking,
and it doesn’t have anything to do with skating.

“He’s pre-law,” I tell my
dad. “I think lawyers still make a pretty decent living, don’t they?”

“I’ve met this young
man,” dad says. “Even if he’s as smart as you say he is, nobody’s ever going to
take him seriously with all those tattoos, much less hire him. I think it’s in
your best interest and, even his, too, down the road, if—”

“Hold on,” I interrupt.
“Why would it be in
his
best interest
for me to stop seeing him?”

Dad’s face has been pretty
red this whole conversation, but my question turns red into maroon, and I’m
actually a little worried. He scratches the back of his head, saying, “It’s not
like that. I mean, that’s not what I mean. I think that you’re going to be a
wonderful companion for whomever you end up with, but maybe you letting him
know that you’ve got more important things to focus your life on than skating
will help him see that there comes a time to grow up and start getting
serious.”

“You don’t even know
him,” I protest. “Besides, we’re still at you telling me who I can and cannot
see, and I’m twenty years old. What are you going to do, ground me?”

“It might not be such a
bad idea with that tone of yours,” he says.

I’m on my feet.

“I know mom taking off
with another guy screwed you up, dad,” I seethe. “It screwed me up, too, but at
some point, you’ve got to let it go,” I tell him. “You’ve got to move on.”

“This isn’t about your
mother,” he says, “and I’ve told you before that I would appreciate you not
bringing her up so casually after what she did to this family.”

“What she did was
terrible, dad,” I tell him. “It hurt you and it hurt me and I don’t know if
that’s ever going to be completely okay, but I think you should start taking
your own advice and stop seeing me as this frozen image of who I was when mom
left.”

“You’re not to see him
again,” dad says. “That is final.”

“You know what?” I ask.
“I’m out of here.”

“Where are you going?” he
asks, getting out of his chair.

“I’ll be with Abs,” I
tell him. “I’ll be trying to figure out a way to get out of your hair as soon
as possible.”

“Oh, so I tell you I have
some concerns about this derelict that you’ve been seeing behind my back,” he
starts.

“Oh, don’t be so
dramatic,” I snap. “He’s got some tattoos and he says ‘fuck’ sometimes, but
that doesn’t mean he’s going to pull me under and ruin my life.”

We’re both a little
surprised at my use of the word, but it’s out and I can’t put it back in.

“Well, it’s good to know
I’m doing the right thing,” he says. “If I ever catch that boy on my property
again, I’ll have him arrested for trespassing.”

“I wouldn’t be too
worried about it,” I rejoin. “I’m probably not going to be around much after
today, anyway.”

And, with that, I turn
and walk out.

Every step I take, I’m
expecting my dad to stop me, but he never does. He doesn’t even say anything.

I know I hurt him, but
I’m done feeling sorry for him. He’s a grown man. He’s a father,
my
father.

It’s only after I’m a few
blocks from my house that I pull out my phone and give Abs a call.

“Sup, Mia?” Abs answers.

“What are you doing?” I
ask.

“Nothing,” she says.
“What’s up? You sound upset.”

“Me and my dad kind of
had a fight,” I tell her. “Would you mind if I stay over at your place
tonight?”

Abs doesn’t answer.

“Abs?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says. “Come on
over. The place is a mess as usual, but we can fix the couch up for you. What
happened?”

“Would you mind if we
talk about it in person?” I ask. “If I don’t have a few minutes just to
breathe, I’m probably going to start yelling or crying or throwing things, and
I’d rather not do that.”

“All right,” she says.
“See you when you get here.”

Good old Abby. She can be
a bit of a handful, and to be honest, I don’t really like being around her
longer than a few hours at a time, but she’s always come through for me when
I’ve really needed it.

Abs doesn’t live with her
parents, but moving in with her isn’t exactly the best option, either. Along
with her brother, who rents the other room from her and is in and out with the
kind of people my dad really
should
be worried about, Abby is also an avid collector of cats.

I’m not allergic or
anything, but I don’t want to live with something called a glaring: too creepy.

The walk to Abs’s place
takes the better part of an hour, but at least I’m feeling a little less
stressed when I get to her door.

I knock and what sounds
like twenty or thirty tiny air raid sirens start going off inside Abs’s
apartment.

The door opens and I’m
almost ready to compliment Abby on her new carpet before I realize the cats
have all gathered to see who’s at the door.

“What up?” Abs asks,
trying to herd some of the more daring felines away from the door. “Wanna come
in before you start letting all the cats out?” she asks.

I shuffle inside, being
very careful not to step on any of the partially-contained balls of hatred and
viciousness. All right, so I may have had a couple of bad experiences with cats
as a kid.

Abs manages to get the
door closed and the cats disperse, all but a few of them leaving the room.

“So, what’s going on?”
she asks. “You’re quiet. I don’t like that.”

I fill her in on the
conversation I had with my dad and even let slip a few details about Ian and
our brief rendezvous earlier in the evening.

“I know it’s a little
weird talking about this. I know Ian caught your eye, too,” I say. “Are we
cool?”

“Yeah,” Abs says, “we’re
fine. Nothing happened at that party, by the way. I don’t know if you knew
that, but yeah. We just talked a little bit.”

“You’re really not mad?”
I ask.

“No,” she says. “Tell you
what, though. When you’re through with him, I’ve got dibs.”

I snicker a little. “I
don’t even know if I’ve officially started with him,” I tell her. “A few hours
ago, I had every intention of telling Ian that we couldn’t see each other if it
wasn’t class-related. Actually, I
did
end up telling him that, but all that just fell away so fast. I didn’t really
see it coming.”

“What do you think
changed?” Abs asks, holding up portions of her hair, one after another, looking
for split ends.

“I think it was his dad,”
I tell her. “My dad, too.”

“Okay, that’s kind of
gross,” Abs says, crinkling her nose. “I can understand having a thing for
his
dad, but—”

“Not sure where you got
that,” I interrupt, “but not what I’m saying.”

She motions for me to
proceed and then leans forward to grab a thin pair of scissors from her coffee
table, cutting about half an inch off of a lock her hair.

“Ian’s dad told me to
stay away from his son because he thought I’d just end up holding Ian back. He
was pretty angry at the time, but he seemed to make a convincing argument,” I
say. “Then tonight, before I went out to meet Ian, I just saw this look on my
dad’s face. I wouldn’t say I knew the conversation was coming tonight, but I
had a pretty good idea that it was coming sometime soon.”