The Tutor || S.M.

Chapter 24 || "Are You Mad At Me Or Not?"

He kisses me gently before opening up the side door and stepping back out into the pouring rain. The door shuts behind him, leaving me alone in the car. I gather up my jackets and purse and put them in the passengers seat, climbing into the drivers seat so that I don't have to go back out into the rain now that I'm not as drenched as I was before. Since the keys already in the ignition and the car is already on, I just put my foot on the gas pedal and slowly pull out of my spot and onto the empty streets. It takes me longer than usual to get home due to the roads being slick from the rain, and I pull into the driveway with one minute left. I yank my key out of the ignition and throw my jackets back, throwing the hood up and slinging my purse onto my shoulder. I throw open the car door and slam it shut, bolting up the driveway and fiddling with the house key until it clicks into place, the door opening. I run inside and close the door behind me, relieved to be out of the rain.
   
"You made it just in time." a voice says, startling me. I look up to see Mom sitting on the couch, her arms crossed and her lips set into a straight line as she frowns at me.
   
"Yeah." I say quietly, sitting down on the couch beside her. She shakes her head and motions for me to stand up.
   
"Don't sit down on the furniture when you're soaking wet, Helaina! You're seventeen years old; shouldn't you know that by now?" Mom yells, and I roll my eyes.
   
"You know, if you're going to lecture me, at least make it about what you're actually mad at me for and not a bunch of other things that are insignificant." I snap. Her eyes narrow and she stands up, stepping towards me.
   
"I am not going to be disrespected in my own house by my own daughter. If you think this little rebellious phase that you're going through right now is okay, you need to cut that shit out or your father and I are going to kick you out until you get your act together!" Mom screams, her entire face turning red with anger. I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes and I bite my lip, trying to push them back.
   
"I'm not trying to be rebellious, Mom!" I cry. "I'm telling you, I told Luke where I was going. He's mad at me right now so he's trying to get back at me!"
   
"Why is he mad at you?"
   
"That's beside the point!"
   
Mom stares at me for a moment before sighing and sitting back down on the couch.
   
"Who's coat is that?" she asks, the question catching me off guard. I look down and realize that I still have Shawn's jacket on.
   
"It's a friend of mines." I reply.
   
"I need a name."
   
"Shawn. Shawn Mendes."
   
"Is that the boy you had over that one day after school?" she asks, and I nod hesitantly.
   
"Yes, and I promise he wasn't over today." I say.
   
"Is that who you went to the coffee shop with?"
   
"Yes, we were studying." I lie.
   
"Then where's your books?" Mom asks, and I feel the panic set in. I rack my brain for ideas before I say, "Shane brought them. We met about an hour after school ended and he didn't stop home yet so he told me not to worry about bringing my books."
   
Mom nods slowly, and I can't tell if she believes me or not.
   
"Why do you have his jacket on?"
   
"I got cold because I just had my bomber jacket on and it wasn't heavy enough, so Shawn offered to let me borrow his."
   
"I see. Why don't you upstairs and get changed out of your wet clothes and let me wash everything? Even his jacket." Mom says. I nod, walking away and heading for the stairs. I make my way into my room and lock the door behind me, stripping off my still-damp clothes. I grab a pair of black joggers and a soft blue t-shirt, gladly stepping into the clean, and more importantly dry, clothes. I pick up the clothes and out of habit, I check the pockets in my jeans and jacket for anything I forgot. I don't find anything in mine, but when I look in Shawn's jacket, I feel the material of a wrapper. I pull it out in confusion and am greeted by a silver foil wrapper. I look at it for a second before realizing what it is, gasping loudly in surprise.
   
"Helaina? Are you okay?" Mom calls from the hallway.
   
"Yeah Mom, I'm fine. I was just reading something Julia sent me." I lie. I look at the wrapper, then around my room, trying to figure out what to do with it. I have to put it somewhere I know anyone won't find it, otherwise my parents may actually kill me.
   
"Are you almost done? I need to start the wash." Mom says, and I feel the handle on my door jiggling. "Helaina, open the door."
   
"Let me finish putting my shirt on." I say, running around the room frantically as I search for a place to put the wrapper.
   
"Let me in! You acted like I've never seen you getting changed before." Mom yells, jiggling the door handle harder. I panic, shoving my hand down my shirt and stuffing the wrapper in my bra.
   
I run over and unlock my door, Mom standing there looking at me suspiciously. I smile weakly, and she pushes past me.
   
"Is this everything?" she asks, and I nod. She picks up the pile of clothes, looks at me, and says, "Did you check the pockets?"
   
I think for a minute before deciding that the best way to cover up any suspicion is by saying no. I shake my head and try to grab the clothes, but Mom jerks her arm away.
   
"I forgot. Can I look now?" I lie.
   
"No, I have to start the laundry. I'll check for you."
   
Before I have the chance to object, Mom walks away, leaving me alone in my room. I collapse onto my bed, relived to know that she won't find anything. I pull out my phone and open up my messages, sending Shawn a text.

H: why the fuck do you have a condom in your jacket!

The three dots announcing Shawn is typing pops up, and a few seconds later, he responds.

S: It wasn't used, was it?

My face goes red, and I fight back the urge to scream as loudly as humanly possible.

H: you're disgusting.

S: Relax babe, its a joke

H: not a very funny one dumbass

H: my mom offered to wash your jacket and if I hadn't checked your pockets beforehand, she would've found it and crucified me AND you

S: We haven't even done anything remotely bad, so why are you so paranoid? In case you forgot, your mom can't find out about something that hasn't even happened yet

H: so then what was today?

H: since we haven't done anything remotely bad, according to you

S: We didn't fuck, which is what you're scared your mom could've thought happened

H: so does that mean today was nothing as far as you're concerned?

S: Holy crap Helaina, are you mad at me or not?

H: whatever. I'll see you tomorrow.

I shut my phone off, too furious with Shawn right now to continue the conversation. My cheeks burn with embarrassment and my head buzzes with frustration and anger as I think about what Shawn said. Today was 'nothing' to him, while to me, it was the complete opposite. The farthest I've gone with someone before Shawn was nothing more than a few heavy make-out sessions and a little over-the-clothes groping. Compared to this, those times were nothing. Shawn's ability to downplay what was a major deal to me is concerning, and I'm worried that either I'm overreacting or he's under-reacting. Maybe it's both?
   
I feel my phone buzz beside me, but I ignore it, knowing it's probably Shawn. I hold down the power button until the option for me to slide to turn the phone conpletely off shows up. I slide my finger across the screen and the device goes black. I sigh and stand up from my bed, walking over to my desk and turning up my laptop. I log onto my computer and open up Spotify, pulling up my playlist before logging onto Google Classroom to start tonight's homework for my other classes.