CHAPTER TWENTY

Caleb.

We arrived from UNLV a couple of hours ago. I sent a text to Faith to let her know I’m home. She replied with the thumbs-up emoji. Damn. I wish she used the kissing-lips emoji instead, but Faith is no text flirt. I make my late-night special: grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches. Ty sits at the counter, waiting for me to slide one on his plate. Despite the fact we live together, we’ve spent zero time hanging out lately. I miss my best friend.

I’m tired and sore, but friendships are important to me. Especially Ty’s friendship.

Ty fidgets in his seat. He’s normally still and calm so I know something’s up. I don’t have the energy to wait for him to align his thoughts. I slide one sandwich onto his plate and dump the other onto my own. “Dude, spill.”

Ty startles, looks over at his closed bedroom door, and wipes his mouth. “I have company.”

I have no idea why he’s acting so weird. “And?”

“Male company.”

I pay attention now. I’m curious and want to understand if he’s acting strange because this is the first time he’s brought a guy home, or if it’s something else. “And?”

“Look, I know this has got to be weird for you, but I don’t want to do anything behind your back.”

He draws his plate closer and opens the utensil drawer to grab a knife. He cuts the sandwich I made in half, grabs two Gatorades from the fridge, and sets everything on the counter.

“He had to take a call, so I came out here to give him some privacy.”

While I’d like to meet the guy who has Ty acting like a jittery thirteen-year-old, I’m not going to make this awkward for him. “Ty, this is your home, too.” I make eye contact with him. “Invite friends over. Have fun—”

“I do.” He lifts his hands, palms up. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to find my normal, and I’m still twisted.”

“Look, I know I haven’t been around lately. But nothing’s changed between us. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

“I know that. The guy who’s here, my friend? He’s easy to talk to, and he gets where I’m coming from. He’s been out for a while now.” He places his hands down flat on the granite counter as though the stone helps him find his balance. “We’re friends. I’m not ready to hang out in the open yet.” Ty glances up, meets my gaze. “For now, it’s a relief to have someone who understands where my head is at, but that doesn’t diminish our friendship. You’re my brother.”

I reach out, slap his hand with mine. It’s our signal that all is well. “It’s cool. Hope it works out.” I grab the skillet and spatula and place them in the sink. “I’m beat. I’ll take this to my room. Give you guys some space to chill in the living room if you want—out of the bedroom.”

I pause, consider. “Or not.”

Tyler jumps a little. “What?”

“Ty, relax, man.” I grab my plate and a Gatorade and head into my own room. “Good night.”

I glance at Ty’s closed door and wonder if his friend spent the night. I’m curious about Ty’s mystery guy. I didn’t hear anyone leave last night. I worry about Ty, but I want to give him the time and space he needs right now.

I leave our condo to head over to meet Faith at hers. As I walk toward her building, it occurs to me I might actually meet her dad. I’m good with parents, but this is Faith, and she turned meeting her dad into a Holy Grail.

She sounded edgy when I spoke to her earlier. Something’s up there, but she didn’t give me a clue as to what it might be. I ring the bell and wait for her to open the door.

Her hoodie reads, Sarcasm because killing people is illegal. She smiles at me, but it’s cautious. “Hello, Sinjin.”

“Hi.”

I lean down and press my lips to hers. She wraps her hands around my neck and kisses me back. “Come in.”

I follow her inside. Her condo looks similar to the one I share with Ty. The oversized, cinnamon-colored couches look comfortable. Birchwood coffee and end-tables make the space welcoming.

She wipes her hands on her cargo pants while she walks me into the living room. I don’t like the vibe. She’s a bundle of nerves. A live wire. “What’s wrong?”

She won’t meet my gaze. “We need to talk.”

Fuck. Those four words are never the words you want to hear from the girl you hope to spend time with on a continuing basis. “What about?”

She speaks to the floor. “Dad’s at work for the next hour or so. Let’s go into my room.”

I’m still uneasy but I want to keep my voice light. “Sure, whatever you want.”

Faith takes my hand and leads me to her bedroom. Her walls are painted metallic silver; the comforter over her bed is the color of plums. Little white lights weave through the brushed silver metal headboard of her bed. Not much clutter. I suppose it’s sparse since she only stays here on weekends. Her laptop is closed and positioned in the middle of a tall dresser next to a framed picture of Faith and her friend, Kirsty. There’s another of Faith and Beau taking space on the nightstand next to a vase holding three yellow daisies. And one of her and an older guy on the opposite stand. Dad.

Our relationship isn’t frame-worthy yet. Disappointment burns deep in my chest, not unlike acid reflux. Understandable since she hasn’t introduced me to the most important person in her life. She’s such a hard sell. I try to figure out what’s going on by her body language and facial expression. I read something close to panic and it makes my own pulse climb. “Will you tell me what this is about?”

“After the party last week, you brought up sex.”

Did she change her mind about us? “Yes, but if that’s what’s bothering you right now, we can talk about it.”

She sits on the bed. “Sex is a big step. For me.”

I don’t want to tower over her. It’s intimidating, so I lean against the dresser. I need to explain myself in a nonthreatening way. “I want to be with you. There’s no deadline, Faith.”

“Sinjin, I’ve never had actual sex.”

Whoa. Actual sex. What does that mean? “Will you explain?”

“Do you remember what I said to you that first day in math class when you introduced yourself?”

I hope this leads to a real conversation about what happened to her. “Unforgettable. You claimed you made ‘a vow to stay away from anyone capable of having an erection.’”

She nods her head. No smile. “I promised myself I’d stay away from guys, because mostly they just want sex.”

And here we go again, face first into her brick wall of mistrust. “You believe I’m hanging out with you to get laid?”

Her eyebrows draw together. “No, I don’t. And it’s why we need to have this conversation. You need to know some things about me. Once you know, it might change the way you feel about being with me.”

My heart starts to knock against my ribs. “Let’s rewind. You haven’t had actual sex?”

She shakes her head. Those luminous brown eyes go shiny with unshed tears. Her breath stutters. She glances away and whispers, “Just oral.”

It’s stupid for me to be jealous over someone in her past. There has to be more to her story than oral sex. I lift her chin to gaze into her gorgeous eyes. I see fear and misery etched on her face.

She stares down at the carpet. “This is something you need to know about me, if sex is in our future.” She cups her knees with her hands. “I’d like to be a coward and send you an email, but you need to hear it from me.”

I pay attention to her words. “Okay.” I sit next to her on the bed. “Tell me what I need to know.”

She won’t make eye contact. Instead she speaks to the floor again. As though the answer to everything can be found woven into the carpet fiber.

“My parents divorced back when I was eight. At nine, I started my period. Living with Dad, you can imagine how uncomfortable that was for me. Thank goodness Nonna bought me pads and took me bra shopping. My body fully developed in third grade. I became a social pariah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The boys had a field day copping feels then bragging about it later. Girls called me Fat Faith once I wore oversized hoodies and shapeless pants to hide my body.”

She’s been hurt, and it makes my blood boil. Her self-confidence undermined for years. Hard to imagine.

“Chloe, my mother, didn’t know. She hated my wardrobe and wouldn’t stop shoving diet plans down my throat.”

What complete bullshit. I can’t imagine any mom trying to force her kid to diet at that age. Any age, really. I raise her chin to make eye contact. “Not necessary. She doesn’t see you at all.”

Faith takes a deep breath and releases the air slowly. “I need to finish.”

I have a feeling I haven’t heard the worst of it. She climbs off the bed and moves to the window, adding distance between us.

“The beginning of my senior year, a boy transferred to our school from a high school in Fall River. A cousin of a student at our high school. Their fathers planned to open a Greek restaurant in town. The distance between the schools is less than twenty miles, but far enough away that Dimitri didn’t grow up with his opinion of me formed in elementary school.”

“Go on.”

“Dimitri and I were partnered together for a project in science. Supposed to work on it in class, but he asked for my number. He sent me questions by text and talked about ideas for the project. On the day we turned in our assignment, he admitted he liked me, and wanted to see me outside of school.”

Her voice speeds up as though she wants to spit the words out fast and forget them. “Dimitri never took me anyplace we might run into our classmates. He liked to roll out a blanket on the grassy area surrounding the library. He’d find a quiet spot behind the building. Not many people ventured back where they parked the Bookmobile near the dumpsters.”

My gut twists, and I close the distance between us, because fuck it. She needs to be held, whether she realizes it or not. I know her story is about to turn ugly. I reach for her and put my hands on her shoulders. “Is this okay?”

She nods.

I can feel the tension rise as the muscles in her neck become more rigid and hear it in her voice when it cracks.

Faith clears her throat. “Dimitri didn’t have a car. He sent me texts every day. We met at the library a lot over the next three weeks. We talked, but mostly he wanted to make out. He liked kissing under the stars. I did, too.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “He was the first boy I ever kissed.”

She wipes her hands on her pants. “I held his hands to keep them from roaming. One day he pulled me into the strand of trees behind the library. He wanted me to take off my shirt, and I just couldn’t. He asked me, ‘When will it happen? We’ve been seeing each other for weeks…’ and more crap I’d rather not repeat.”

Faith steps away from me, breaking contact. “I couldn’t take off my shirt or let him feel me up, but I was desperate to please him. The evening ended with Dimitri telling me to ‘get on my knees’ and then he pulled down his zipper.”

I care about what happened to her but I don’t want to crowd her. I’m not sure if she’s done talking, but I stay quiet and patient.

“Dimitri’s cousin took a picture of us and posted it to KickBack. I morphed from Fat Faith to Fellating Faith in the blink of an eye.” Her breath hitches. “Markos bet his cousin Dimitri he couldn’t charm me out of my hoodie. There had to be proof. When I didn’t take off my shirt, Dimitri lost the bet. I cost him twenty dollars. The KickBack slut-shaming was payback. My reputation imploded over a single Andrew Jackson.”

Her wardrobe isn’t about comfort—it’s her armor. I want to throw something. I want to punch those fuckheads in the face for treating Faith like a pawn in their cruel bet.

“Now that you know, I understand if you want to leave.”

“Don’t put me in the same class as those ass-wipes.”

She raises her right hand to place her palm against her temple. “You’re right. You’re not an asshole. I’m sorry, Sinjin. I’ve gone to school with so many, it’s brutally hard not to expect the same behavior from every guy I meet.”

“No shit. But I’m not Dimitri.”

“I know.”

“Don’t do this, Faith. Don’t make me pay for what he did. It’s not fair.”

“You know what? You’re right. You have the patience of a saint.”

She reaches for my hands and holds them. She draws me down to brush her lips against mine. “Sinjin, I’ll make you a promise. I’ll trust and believe in you for as long as we’re together. No more doubts. You don’t deserve them.”

My shoulders loosen. “I’m going to hold you to your promise.”

She scrubs her hands down her face. “I need to wash my face and take some aspirin before my headache turns into a full-blown migraine.”

When she walks out of the room, I put my head in my hands. I’m so damn angry, and there’s nowhere for this emotion to go. Fellating Faith. KickBack? Her default reaction reverts to distrust, and now I understand why.

The fact she’s shying away from sex is understandable. I’ll have to continue to earn her trust. Dimitri tried to break her, but he didn’t. Now I’ll get a chance to show Faith what a real relationship feels like. The sense of relief flows through my body, spreading warmth.

A few minutes later she returns. I glance up to gauge her mood. She leans in the doorway. Pale face and pink-rimmed eyes from her crying jag. She sits on the bed next to me.

“Thanks for not being an asshole. I’m sorry I have trust issues.”

I place a kiss on her knuckles. “That’s behind us now. Will your dad freak out if he comes home from work and I’m here?”

She hiccups. “Oh! Yes. He’s just getting used to Beau being my Left Coast bestie. Dad remains suspicious we’re sexually active. He thinks Beau might be lying about being gay.”

“Your dad sounds typical, wary of any man sniffing around his daughter.”

She holds her breath for a couple of beats. On the exhalation, she says, “He’s an Italian dad. His prime directive is to see me married while remaining pure. At least in Dad’s mind, his grandchildren will be delivered via the stork.”

“You can’t be serious right now.” I kiss her between her eyebrows. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I promise you, I’m not making this up. But Dad would have been livid with Beau today.”

“Why?”

She snorts. “Beau pretended we’re together for my mother’s sake earlier. Oh crap. I totally forgot to tell you. My mother showed up on my doorstep this morning.”

That gets my attention. She shared her past with me, all but forgetting her mom. “Your mom turned up after all these years?”

“She’s staying at the Valencia here on the property. Can we go for a walk, but not on The Row?”

“Do you have somewhere in mind for this walk?”

“Downtown Campbell?”

I wipe an imaginary tear from my eye. “You are becoming quintessentially Californian.”

“Cool. But, what makes you say that?”

“Because you asked me to drive you to a neighboring town to take a walk. I’m so proud.”

“Funny boy. Sinjin?”

“Faith.”

She smiles and leans toward me. “I need to kiss you.”

She slides her lips against mine, then runs her tongue along my bottom lip. I deepen the kiss. Our tongues mate. My belly tightens.

She pulls back. “Will you do something for me?”

“As you wish.”

“Kind of a test. I need you to touch my breasts.”

I grow hard at the thought. But I’m confused and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Quick skim or full honk?”

“What the hell is a full honk?”

I close my eyes. I did not just say that. “I meant lightly run my hands over them or do you want me to squeeze gently?”

“I can’t believe I initiated this conversation.”

“Me neither.”

She laughs. “Let’s do this anyway. But if you honk my tits, I won’t be responsible for my reaction. Fair warning.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Good news. I’m no longer stiff. Dignity fled with it. I feel like I should twirl my non-existent mustache. I’ve never groped a girl before. At least not without it being part of a make-out session. This feels off.

“We’re overthinking it.” She flops back on the bed with her arms above her head. “Just go for it already before I lose my nerve.”

“I feel like I’m twelve again.”

She sits up. “Shut up and pretend we’re playing doctor.” She flops backward again. Ready to be violated.

Shit. This should be sexy, but the stakes are too high. “Over clothes or under?”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “Under. Please. Do it quick. I have to know.”

I know how to touch a girl. I blank my mind and straddle her. Her eyes pop open.

“Trust me.” I press a quick kiss to her nose.

She closes her eyes once more. “You have no idea how much I trust you.”

I reach under her shirt, touching her abdomen running my fingers along her sides.

She giggles. “Tickles.”

“Shut up, Lacerna. I’m about to get to second base.”

I use the tips of my fingers to climb up her torso. Softly. I reach her bra and cup her breasts. The pulse at her throat visibly taps against her skin, keeping time with the erratic beats of her heart. I squeeze gently. Explore to find her nipples with my index fingers. She moans. I grow hard.

Her eyes open but remain unfocused.

I circle her nipples and feel them pebble beneath her bra. I lean down to brush my lips across her mouth. I lean back so I’m not looming over her.

“Thank you,” she says and her eyes sheen with tears. She blinks to clear them. Our gazes meet. We hold contact for half a minute. I remove my hands from her shirt and move away.

Something huge just happened between us.

Monumental.

I’ve earned her trust.

And in doing so, she’s stolen my heart.

We sit at The Cupcake Joint. She orders strawberry parfait while I choose the caramel delight. At Faith’s insistence, we each have an espresso. I am about to add sugar, but she shakes her head.

“What?”

“Sinjin, I’ll give you a lesson on how to drink espresso the Italian way.”

I smile at her. “Girl, you can teach me anything you’d like.”

Faith points her finger at my tiny coffee cup. “In Italy, we’d order at the bar, so the crema doesn’t dissipate while you wait for them to bring you the coffee. Plus, ordering your coffee at a table instead of the bar will forever mark you as a tourist.”

“A tourist?” I arrange my face to mimic a scream face. “Horrors!”

“Ha! See the creamy emulsion covering the coffee?”

“Yes.”

“Pay attention. This is your first and most important lesson in Italian culture. You want to drink the coffee before it evaporates. We’ll drink our espressos first, then enjoy our dessert.”

She picks up her tiny cup and waits for me to do the same. “Drink it through, Sinjin. Immerse yourself in the flavor of the coffee, experience the joy it brings, and I’ll make you an honorary Italian.”

I take a sip and draw back when the coffee scalds my tongue. Her eyes are mischievous as she watches me over the rim of her own cup. She takes her first sip. Her approval is evident in the drawn out “mmm” she makes as she draws another sip.

Not wanting to disappoint, I bring the cup back to my mouth, and think oh well, a burned mouth is a small price to pay while trying to step up my game to impress a beautiful Italian girl. The girl I’ve fallen for.

The coffee is good, not bitter, and after the first shocking hot sip, it goes down smooth.

When the cup is empty, I set it on the table, take a bite of caramel perfection, and allow the flavors to sit on my tongue a beat. Should have ordered milk, too. She smiles at me, puts her empty cup down on the table, and takes a forkful of cupcake.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who eats a cupcake with a fork.”

“Avoids frosting fingers.”

“Licking your fingers is the best part.”

Her left eyebrow draws upward. “I disagree. Licking the spoon is better. Two words: cookie batter.”

“My mom always let my swipe my finger through the bowl after she emptied it.”

Faith smiles. “Your mother is terrific, while mine… We’re here because Chloe parked her broom on my doorstep.”

“What is it with parents? Dad calls and leaves me voice mails all the time, even though what he did was wrong on so many levels.”

Faith reaches out to twine our fingers together. “It’s weird. We both wear scars from a parent.”

“True.” I nod. “I’m not ready to discuss what happened with my dad right now. How about you? Why do you think Chloe’s here?”

“Curiosity? Payback for the loss of her career? Beau thinks she’s telling the truth about reconnecting now that I’m an adult.”

Faith tells me what Beau did in front of Chloe.

I’m grateful Beau pretended to be Faith’s boyfriend. I’m surprised I’m not jealous, but he isn’t into girls, and I can’t imagine Faith cheating.

Now that I’ve earned her trust, we’re golden.

“He’s probably right about your mom. The important question is: how do you feel about her?”

Faith makes a face. “Honestly? Chloe hurt me so much as a kid. We only had a week together each year. She’d use that week to make me feel even worse about myself. She’d buy me ten outfits that never fit and used them as incentive for me to lose weight and be the daughter she deserved.”

Faith wipes her hands on her napkin. “There were years I yearned for a connection. Support. Love. Now? I don’t want to share the same oxygen with her.”

Jesus. That’s awful. It almost makes what Dad did pale into insignificance. Since that train of thought veers too close to forgiveness, I purposely remember his betrayal.

How he killed my respect by allowing my girlfriend to go down on him.