Slow Burn Part 30

"We have to go, Jimmy," he says, nodding at me. "I'll come back next week, yeah? I'll bring the vermillion. I'm sure they'll have it in stock by then."

"Sounds good, buddy," Jimmy acknowledges with a tired smile and a faraway look in his clear green eyes. "Thanks a lot."

"It was really nice to meet you, Jimmy," I say. Holy and Moly are both cuddled on my lap, so I carefully get up, cradling them in my arms. "Thanks for having me."

"Anytime, buddy. I can take those guys off you."

"Oh, no, I got them. I can put them back in their cage," I offer, already walking toward the small alcove next to the dusty fireplace.

I deposit the two ferrets in their little sling in the cage, and they immediately wind themselves around each other, and close their eyes. The picture of sleepy contentment after a hard day of play. Who knew ferrets were such cool pets? And they only smell a little.

We say our goodbyes to Jimmy after Dean promises to bring me back. When we're back in the Pontiac, and he fires up the powerful engine, I turn to him with a genuine smile.

"Your uncle is pretty awesome. Thanks for letting me come."

Dean returns my smile, his light-filled eyes gleaming in the dark. "Anytime."

I feel flushed with contentment, pleased with Dean and how my evening turned out. It's kind of crazy how much time we've been spending together lately, but I'm really enjoying his company. Sure, he's not the easiest person to get to know, but I kinda like that about him.

Still smiling, I text Heather to make sure she's okay. She immediately texts me back, letting me know she's safe and sound at home-and adds about fifty smiley faces. Guess her night went well. I'm sure she'll tell me all about it tomorrow.

I fall asleep on the ride back to my house, and the next thing I know, we're pulling up in front of my house. I stretch luxuriously in my seat, raising my arms above my head so that they touch the ceiling of the car. Mid-stretch, I glance over at Dean to find him watching me with an unreadable expression on his face. Self-conscious-my yawn-y faces are not cute-I quickly lower my arms, and reach for the door handle.

"Thanks, Dean. I'll see you Monday-and don't forget, we have our English presentation!"

"Looking forward to it." Was that sarcasm? So hard to tell with him. He starts to get out. "I'll walk you to your door."

"No, that's okay," I say, having just spotted my mom's car in the driveway. "My mom's home. Thanks, though."

I slip out of the car without waiting for a response, and hurry down the path to my front porch. It's after two, and I wonder if Mom will be upset that I'm home so late? What's she doing home, anyway?

She's in the kitchen, sitting at the table with her laptop in front of her. She looks up when I come skidding in, already making excuses.

"I know it's late..." I begin. "I was just with a friend, visiting his uncle, who lives in Sunlit City-"

But Mom holds up a hand in halting gesture. "I thought about being mad," she says with a shrug. "But then I realized-you're almost eighteen, and in a few months you'll be off to college. You need to start being responsible for yourself, and I have to trust that you'll make intelligent decisions. I just ask that you show some respect while you're under my roof, and not come in stumbling drunk at five in the morning."

I gape at her as she calmly goes back to typing on her laptop. The clicking of the keyboard is the only sound in the kitchen for a couple of minutes. I'm speechless.

Finally, I find my voice. Leaning against the counter for support, I try for a mature tone. "That seems fair," I squeak. I clear my throat. "Just to let you know, I don't intend on getting drunk in the foreseeable future. Or doing anything similarly stupid."

"I know you won't," she says in a smugly absent tone. Like she doesn't doubt I'm a good little virgin who would faint at the thought of underage drinking.

I mash my lips together. "What are you doing home?" I ask, deciding to go with a safe topic.

"Oh, it was a slow day, and I've racked up so many hours lately, I was first on the list to be sent home."

"What?" I say, opening my eyes in mock surprise. "They've finally decided that eighty hours a week is too much?"

"Something about an early grave was mentioned," Mom replies, waving a hand in the air. "Do you want my Reuben from Frizby's? I just stuck it in the fridge."

"No, thanks. I think I'm going to bed. Need my eight hours, you know."

"You get that from your father." She smiles without bitterness-even though she just mentioned my dad. "Goodnight, Juliet."

"Yeah, goodnight," I mutter before heading for the stairs.

I miss my mother. I miss her even more when I see her.

Chapter 30.

Heather comes with me to Dad's, and all she can talk about is Sloane. She even tells Dad all about her, and the poor guy doesn't know what to do with the information. Mich.e.l.le takes us baby-shopping with her, and between all the baby talk and the starry-eyed first love, I'm wonderfully distracted from my own problems.

"This is so cute-oh, my G.o.d!"

Mich.e.l.le hugs a pink polka dot dress to her chest, staring heavenward as if in prayer. She holds it out again. "Look how tiny!"

"Are you having a girl, then?" Heather asks slyly, watching my aunt's face for a clue.

"We don't want to know," Mich.e.l.le says firmly, putting the frilly little dress back. "Which is why I'm buying only gender-neutral colors. Awww, look at the little winter jacket with the b.u.t.terflies!"

Heather and I exchanged amused looks, but since we're both baby-crazy ourselves, we don't try to put an end to the madness. Besides, this has been a long time coming for Mich.e.l.le. I'm totally willing to indulge her obsessions.

"I'm telling you, she is the best kisser. And I'm not just saying that 'cause she's so hot," Heather is saying as we drift after Mich.e.l.le, who flits from rack to rack.

"So, you guys made out for a few minutes. Does that mean she is...?"

"Mm, I still don't know." Heather c.o.c.ks her head to the side, considering. "She won't say definitely, and I'm afraid to straight out ask her. But, dude, she actively kissed me back, so she can't be opposed to the idea."

"Just be careful with her," I blurt out, unable to keep the worry from my voice. "She's into a lot of-"

"I know, Mom," she cuts me off irritably. "She doesn't really get high around me, okay? She knows I'm not into it. You know I know a lot of people who use-and I haven't given into temptation yet!"

I give her my most stern look. "Make sure it stays that way, Heather Jones. If Sloane does anything to get you in trouble, you can't play with her anymore. I don't care how pretty she is."

"Just how pretty is she?" Mich.e.l.le says, thankfully overhearing only the last part of the conversation. "Do you have a picture?"

"I do!" Excitedly, Heather looks through her phone, which she's always holding in her hand. She scans through a few photos before she triumphantly hands it over to Mich.e.l.le.

Mich.e.l.le takes it, squinting at the screen. Her eyes widen. "d.a.m.n," she says in a low voice. "She's gorgeous!"

Mich.e.l.le is so impressed that I kind of want to whip out my phone and show her Dean's picture. If she thinks Sloane's beautiful, wait 'til she sees him! But, no, that would be weird, and Mich.e.l.le would get the wrong impression. I keep my phone in my pocket, and look over Mich.e.l.le's shoulder at the many, many pictures of Sloane Suzuki. She doesn't even seem to be aware of the camera in over half of them. d.a.m.n, Heather-stalker, much?

Sunday, I bring Heather and homemade pizzas over to Mack's. Johnny doesn't come, and no one mentions him-not even Arianna, who's taken to ignoring me instead of glaring. Nick and I still avoid each other, but I don't think anyone but Heather notices. I question Mack about the girl at homecoming, and he is adorably tight-lipped on the subject. Ben and I watch videos of people reviewing films on his phone, and we both wonder how some of them have received so many views. It's a fun day, and I'm glad I know these people (well, most of them). I have to admit, I spend a little time worrying if they would still want me around now that Johnny and I don't seem to be on speaking terms. Because, let's face it, he had them first and I'll always be the outsider. But everyone's really cool about it, so I start to relax, and just enjoy. I just wish Nick and I could get past this awkward guilt thing every time we see each other. I miss him as a friend. I wish I didn't know what he looks like naked. More importantly, I wish he didn't know what I looked like naked. Uck.

Monday is the Romeo and Juliet presentation, and I'm somewhat confident-eighty percent. We finished the project early, and we were thorough, planning every detail. What could go wrong?

Turns out-everything. Nick is absent today because he hurt his wrist doing some silly boy stunt involving Jason and Ryan, and the side of a house. Honestly, that guy gets hurt more than anyone I know. Also, Heather is quarantined at home with a sudden case of pinkeye! Her left eye is super gross and gloppy-I know because she sent me pics! But we brainstorm, and Mr. Shannon saves the day by suggesting we set up a video chat, and offers us the use of his laptop. So Heather, wearing an eye patch, is able to perform her roles as Mrs. Capulet, and Olivia Channing-star prosecutor. She's fantastic despite the pus, and Andrew Rosen asks me for her number after cla.s.s.

Dean is forced to take Nick's part, and he is not happy. He delivers every line in his deep unemotional voice, and is unintentionally hilarious. Watching Dean act is probably half the reason Mr. Shannon praises our presentation with a huge smile on his face. He also commends us for going outside of the box, and I can't help the smug look I give Dean. He gives me a deer-in-the-headlights look back. I think he's still traumatized. I feel bad for him, but not really because I realize that no matter how stiff and uncomfortable he is in front of an audience, all eyes are glued to him. I can easily see him in the movies as an action hero. Heck, I've seen less emotion from famous actors who aren't as handsome as Dean. Heather, on the other hand, would make a terrific actress-a career far more suited to her personality than a pharmacist, which is what she's leaning toward. Must remember to mention it to her.

The rest of the week pa.s.ses quietly. I see Johnny around in school, and he always just barely acknowledges me. I've been eating lunch in the caf with our group once I realized he's been going out to eat. Tanya tells me that Johnny's refused all the girls at Leclare who have asked him out-but apparently everyone else is fair game.

"Dani totes thought she could move in on him," Tanya whispers to me as we watch her glide past us in the hall. "But he turned her down cold. By the way, you never said what's going on between you and Johnny? Did you guys have a big fight, or something?"

"Or something," I reply with a shrug. "Like I've said several times before-I'm not interested in what he does anymore."

"Hm. But he was so in love with you-it was so romantic!" She sighs deeply before suddenly giving me a speculative look. "Wait, does the fight have anything to do with Ben Parrish? I notice you guys are always together lately."

I roll my eyes. "We're just friends! Besides, he has a girlfriend-Arianna."

"Yeah, I know. She's such a b.i.t.c.h! You and Ben would make a cute couple."

I start walking faster, but she easily keeps up with me, hitching the strap of her bag over her shoulder. We're almost running by the time we hit the parking lot.

Exasperated, I turn to her. "Why are you so interested in my love life, anyway?"

Tanya looks surprised by the question. She pauses, tilting her head to the side to consider. "Um, well, I guess I'm just rooting for you," she says slowly. "You're this normal girl who got the golden ticket to the Beautiful People Party! It gives the rest of us hope, you know?"

"So," I say. "You like me 'cause I've successfully risen above my station?"

She snorts self-consciously. "Juliet, I love how you talk! And I like you 'cause you're funny and cool. I want to be you because you're friends with the hottest guys in school."

Oh. "So when you say you want to be me, do you mean, like, wear my skin as a cape?"

"If it means Dean Youngblood will talk to me, then yes. Because-drool."

I shrug at her unapologetic grin. I am never telling her how much Dean and I see each other outside of school. She may have me killed.

Tanya follows me to my car like an enthusiastic puppy dog. If she tries to get in, I swear I'm going to zap her with the spray bottle of water I keep in the backseat (don't ask why).

"Are you going to the game next week?" she asks, leaning against the side of my car. "It's the last game of the season."

"I work, Tanya," I say impatiently, unlocking the driver's side.

"Are you going to the party at Dean's and Johnny's after the game?" she persists, trying to stick her head in after me as I slide behind the wheel.

I forcibly eject her by her forehead. "I don't think so. It'd be too weird."

"No, it wouldn't! It's gonna be a huge party-it'd be easy to avoid him. Come on..." she whines, her dark eyes big and pleading.

"I'll think about it," I concede, starting up my car.

"Yay! Okay, text me later-!"

I drive off before she finishes her sentence. The girl is driving me a little crazy. I may have to introduce her to Heather.

Chapter 31.

Hooray for three day weekends. I spend it at Dad's, where he surprises me with a friend of his from work. Her name's Cerise(!), and she's the new receptionist at his accounting firm. She's also bouncy, blonde, and in her early twenties. She comes over for lunch, and though she seems nice enough, I can't look at her and Dad together without having serious acid reflux. Unfortunately, Mich.e.l.le isn't there to consult with on this latest development-she and Uncle Derek are in Vegas right now, having what she calls a...babymoon? I desperately wish I was with them, doing some underage gambling-instead of sitting at the table and watching Cerise flirtatiously brush a lock of hair out of my father's eyes.

Speaking of his eyes...is that a twinkle I see in them? Uh-oh, I've never seen him look like that with the other women he's been out with. Then again, I've never seen him with a pretty young blonde with a b.u.t.t you can bounce a quarter off of. And yes, I tried. She didn't even notice!

After she leaves, I sit on the couch, feeling a little unnerved and slightly traumatized. After hovering hesitantly above me, Dad finally sits next to me.

"So..." He draws out the word. "What did you think of Cerise?"

"Oh, well, she seems really nice. She's young, huh?"

Dad flushes and rubs the back of his neck. "Ah, yeah, she is. Too d.a.m.n young for me," he admits gruffly. "But we get along really well. I...like her a lot."

"Wow, that's great." I clear my throat, and stare down at my hands. "How long have you been seeing her?"

"Oh, not that long. She's been with the company for a couple of months, and we've gone out a few times, mostly with others from work. We started talking, and believe it or not, we found we had a lot of things in common..."

Oh, my G.o.d, my dad is gus.h.i.+ng like a teenage girl! He never gushes, never shares any kind of details-especially about women. Now I see-that's a good thing. Because I don't need to know that Cerise used to be a gymnast, or that she donates plasma twice a week.

But look how happy he is. I nod and smile, feeling almost faint with the effort. Then I realize, I've been holding my breath. I let it out in one big whoosh.

"So...are you okay with this, Juliet?" Dad asks, almost reluctantly. The glow fades from his face as he studies me uncertainly.

"Yeah." I blow out another breath, and unintentionally make a motorboat sound with my lips. "You've dated before..right? It's been years since the divorce, and it's not like I think you and Mom are-ha ha-gonna get back together, or anything...right?" I try to sound flippant but my voice grows tiny and questioning with hope at the end.

Dad rubs the back of his neck again. "Right."

I can't keep my shoulders from slumping. "But you still love her." It sounds like an accusation.

"Yes, yes I do. I probably always will. But." He runs his fingers through his dark hair, sighing. "We're not meant for each other. Too much has happened between us...lost time, loss of trust...I made a big mistake, and she can't forgive me for it. I can't forgive myself for it, and I-I don't want to feel bad about myself all the time. Guilty, and nothing but a big disappointment. I want to be with someone that makes me look forward to another day, and fills me full of hope."

I stare at him, freaked out. Dad's face is drawn in lines of exhaustion from all that profound talking, but an awed smile blooms on his mouth. It's the smile of someone who's falling in love. With a Cerise? Too much too soon.

Oh, man, he's looking at me like he wants me to say something. Am I supposed to say I approve that he's moving on? I guess I do, but the little girl in me whose dream of having her parents reunite under fireworks of renewed love is crushed.