Denim Jackets and Good Intentions

Chapter Two

"Geez."

Lisa kept her promise she had made. After they decided they were done skating, Eric had offered her a ride home, since she had gotten there in the first place with her friends who had all but abandoned her. Halfway there, Lisa had him pull over and park beside a desolate fast food joint. She didn't want to get caught doing this in front of her house, her dad would freak. She had tried to offer their new friend Douglas a ride home with them, and it wasn't like he would have opposed, but the boy had insisted on walking. In a way, Eric had been glad to hear that, because no way would this currently be happening with him in the backseat. His left hand was gripping the steering wheel and his right arm was draped over the back of the seat, eyes checking all of the mirrors every so often to make sure that they wouldn't get caught.

Grabbing a rag from the glove department, one that he used when he worked on the engine, he wiped her hand off gently, calloused fingertips caressing against her supple skin. The sleek maroon car they were sitting in was his baby, and boy was his baby a trooper in times like these. She had her own charm, and he almost always got lucky in some way when he flaunted her around. His parents bought it a few years back from a used car lot, a couple of years after it had come out and the hype died down a little enough for it to be abandoned. He and his father, Thomas, had repaired it together and Eric ended up with the keys. It had been good to him, and he liked to clean and maintain it in his free time.

She stuffed the rag back into the compartment once her hands were clean and Eric chuckled when he felt her head leaning against his broad shoulder, delicate fingers tracing circular patterns on his chest. He glanced down at her briefly before looking out the window, knowing he'd have to get home soon. Mom was making lasagna and Henry had his spelling bee today, which he probably killed. Once he dropped her off at her place with a kiss and a quick swipe to the ass of those miracle Levi's, he drove home and parked outside.

Thomas was studying a newspaper in the living room. The smell of food filled his nostrils the minute he walked through the door and he carelessly tossed his keys on the coffee table, kicking his father's shoe tauntingly as he passed by on his way towards the delightful smell. The older man in the grey shirt swatted at the teen with the newspaper, though missed when Eric managed to dodge it with a leap into the kitchen. Henry was sitting at the table, his glasses sitting on the oak tabletop beside him as he finished up some homework. He mumbled a greeting to the older Ross and shoved his hand away when his hair was ruffled. Eric bumped his mother on the hip where she stood at the stove and grinned.

"You be careful now," she warned, pushing him away by his shoulder. "Don't make me burn myself."

Eric just snickered and sat down at the table.

"I know you ain't sitting in my house with those grody boots on," she said, glancing over her shoulder.

The boy rolled his eyes and reached down, pulling his shoes off with a grunt, then standing up to cast them away in the living room closet before she had the chance to tell him to. He heard her say something as he walked into the living room and turned to look over his shoulder, which wound up with him barrelling into something heading the opposite way. He turned his head, expecting to see the burly man that was his father. Instead, he was met with fawn eyes.

"You're the dude from the rink," he said, backing away slightly so that their chests weren't touching anymore since it was obvious that the other wasn't about to move.

"Douglas," the other said, figuring that his name had slipped the other's mind.

"Mom?"

Mary appeared in the doorway, her high waisted jeans buckled tight just under her narrow ribcage. She pushed a thick lock of luminous blond behind her ear and smiled.