I look away from them both, wishing I could somehow disappear.

“Are you done pretending to be a parent now?” Dean stands up. “Don’t you have more women to fuck in the hotel up the street? Aren’t there more boosters you need to steal money from, in exchange for lies that I’ll be going to their programs?”

“What did you just fucking say to me, boy?”

“You heard me.” Dean’s jaw in clenched, too.  “I didn’t stutter.”

“Get the fuck out of my house. Go somewhere far where I won’t have to look at you tonight.”

“Gladly.” He grabs my hand and pulls me up with his guitar, leading me back toward the garage.

“And don’t come back through my doors until you’re ready to talk to me like I’m the adult and you’re the goddamn child!”

“I guess you’ll be waiting,” Dean says as he slams the door.

We get into his car and he speeds off at eighty miles an hour, whipping down a winding back-road that seems to lead to nowhere. I don’t dare say anything while he drives like this. I just grab his hand behind the gearshift and squeeze it so he knows he’s not driving alone.

It takes an hour before I start to see signs of civilization again—rental car companies, pay per day parking lots, and then I see signs for the airport.

Finally slowing down, Dean pulls the car under an overpass.

“Come on,” he says, unbuckling my seatbelt. He gets out of the car and lays back against the hood, motioning for me to do the same.

“I’ll be sure to bring you your canvas this week,” he says as a plane takes off above us. “I should’ve grabbed that, too...”

I’m not sure what to say to that, so I just remain quiet.

He doesn’t say anything further until four more planes have taken off into the sky, until the sound of engines roaring against the air temporarily comes to a stop.

“I apologize for the asshole that is my father.” He sighs. “I didn’t think he’d come back home so early. He’s never there during that time.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” I keep my gaze toward the sky. “Is he like that often?”

“Unfortunately. We argue all the time. You couldn’t pay us to get along.”

He gets quiet all over again, so we watch more planes take off on the runway ahead of us. As the sun begins to set, he rolls over to face me.

“I need to tell you something else personal,” he says, making me roll over on my side, too.

“I’m listening.”

“My dad is using me to live above his means. He’s been bleeding money from his retirement and savings ever since my mom left, so he wants me to play in college, and then the NFL for the pay check. He accepts gifts from recruiters and keeps them for himself...On days like this, I really miss my mom. She was nothing like him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His smile makes its first appearance in hours. “I’m sure you can relate.”

“Yeah, just in reverse. That’s how I feel about my dad,” I admit. “He actually supported me and my brother’s art dreams. My mom couldn’t care less.”

“You have a brother?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “He’s four years older, but he ran away shortly after my father divorced my mom since he couldn’t take living with her anymore.”

“Do the two of you keep in contact?”

“Twice a month we talk on the phone, and we email each other from time to time. I’ve been trying to get him to come home for Christmas.”

“I take it that he said no?”

“He actually said  hell no.” I laugh and suddenly his lips are on mine and he’s running his fingers through my hair. I don’t even try to stop him—I kiss him back even harder, feeling his hands go around my waist.

I actually want him to take things further, for his hands to directly touch my skin, so I finally know what it feels like, but he doesn’t.  He simply kisses me until I can’t breathe anymore, until the sun goes down, until the two of us have had enough.

Chapter 7

MIA

On Christmas Eve, my house is packed with my mother’s side of the family. They’re all congratulating me on the Harvard acceptance every few seconds and my mom is doing her best to pretend like she and I are so damn happy. (We’re even wearing matching holiday sweaters.)

“Do you still do art, Mia?” My aunt asks. “What happened to that painting you were working on the last time we came?”

“She never finished it.” My mother answers for me, passing me a bowl of mashed potatoes. “She realized that art wasn’t her thing. Thank god, you know? Remember when I thought I knew how to sing in college?”

“Oh, well that’s okay, Mia,” my aunt says. “At least you knew when to quit. It would’ve been awkward to have to hang your paintings around the house anyway. You know your mom only likes to look at the best of things. She’s high class like that.”

Everyone around the table laughs and I push my chair back. “Can I be excused for a moment? I need to get something out of the kitchen.”

My mom waves me away and I quickly rush into the kitchen and grab my phone. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I left it out of reach, and I immediately text Autumn.

MIA:  Can you please come save me?  Like, NOW?  I feel like I’m stuck in the Christmas from hell.

AUTUMN:  Can’t...I’m trapped in my own version of Christmas hell. My mom just found out that I’m not a virgin and she’s giving me the abstinence speech. (Wait...Are you still a virgin? O_o )

MIA:  Damn...Sorry.   (What? Of course, I am! Why wouldn’t I be?)

AUTUMN:  She wants me to sign a contract saying that I won’t have sex again until I’m 21.  BAHAHAHA!  (Because of who you’re dating :-) We’ll see how long THAT lasts!)

MIA:  Okay, wait. How did she find out? (He promised me that we wouldn’t have sex, so it’ll be lasting a long time.)

AUTUMN:  She found an empty condom wrapper in my purse. God, now she’s bringing  out some “The Dangers of Sex” brochures. (No, he promised you that he wouldn’t PUSH you into having sex. Big difference!)

MIA:  Ew. Where is Jacob? (Trust me, we’re not going to have sex :-) )

AUTUMN:  He’s actually under my bed right now :-) (I’m willing to bet my life on the fact that you will. And SOON.)

My mom walks into the kitchen and I quickly slip my phone into my pocket.

“Do you plan on rejoining everyone else or are you going to hide in here for the rest of dinner?” she asks.

“Depends...Is Eric coming? Did you finally decide to call him and personally give an invite?”

“Really, Mia?” She scrunches up her face. “You’re going to bring him up on Christmas Eve?”

“Him? You say that like he’s some type of stranger. He’s my older brother, and he also happens to be your son.”

“No, he was your brother. He made the decision to be a social deviant and turn his back on us. Until he makes some major changes to his personal psyche, he’s not welcome here.”

“His ‘personal psyche’? It’s been four years.”

“Well, let’s try to make it four more years and see if he’ll finally come to his senses.”

“Mom—”

“Now is not the time, Mia. We have guests. We can discuss this in private later.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“Of course, I don’t.” She picks up a stick of butter “So, can we please focus on having a nice holiday with the people who actually cared enough to show up tonight, please?” She walks out of the kitchen.

I pull a plate out of the cabinet and load it with food, walking up the back staircase and locking myself in my room. I know she won’t come up here and ask me to come down. She’d never cause a scene.

I devour my dinner, put on my headphones, and shut my eyes—swearing to God that I’ll get the hell away from her the second I graduate.

***

I’ve slept through the eggnog making, the family home-video-watch marathon, and the “You can open one gift before midnight” tradition. It’s the middle of the night and all of my aunts and cousins are tucked away in guest rooms, while my mother speaks to one of her most anxiety prone clients in her home office.