World history used to be my favourite class.
I say used to, because I wasn't really liking the way Miss Clarke kept frowning over at our table every ten minutes or so. She obviously had something on her mind, and my stomach sank when I realised it probably had to do with the latest drafts of our project we'd handed in last week.
While I was over analysing her each and every stare and trying to develop some intense telepathy skills, Tyson was either ignoring her or oblivious as he took notes in that surprisingly elegant script of his. I had to keep biting back a ridiculously giddy smile at the feel of his thigh pressed firmly against mine and the way our shoulders felt like they were fused together. That was the upside to him being a lefty; we could sit as close as we liked without him wanting to strangle me for bumping him as he wrote.
Sometimes it was hard to believe we'd gone from being at each other's throats most of the time, to one step away from me climbing into his lap instead of sitting in my own seat.
"You're giving me a complex."
I started at Tyson's unexpected comment. "What?"
One edge of his mouth turned up, and he tilted his head just enough to pass me a knowing stare. "Either I've got something on my face, or you're staring because you want to pick up where we left off earlier."
Heat suffused my cheeks, and I made a tiny squeak of protest, ignoring how weak it sounded to my ears. "Face. You've got something on your face."
His lips quirked further, a mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes. "Liar."
My hand shot up before he could do more than blink, and a splotch of blue ink appeared on his cheek. Grinning, I retracted my pen. "Like I said, you've got something on your face."
"Excellent, now we match."
Frowning, I wiped absently at my own cheek. "What are you talking ab-"
I broke off on a gasp as Tyson flung his arm around my shoulders to keep me in place. His left hand came up, pen in hand, and as well as stifling a laugh, I had to work to keep my voice from drawing anyone else's attention.
"Tyson," I hissed, attempting to ward off the attack. I was failing miserably. "Quit it. You're going to get us in trouble."
I felt the tip of his pen touch the end of my nose, causing me to go cross eyed as I struggled to assess the damage. Chuckling, Tyson relented, but kept his arm loosely over my shoulders. I endeavoured not to focus too closely on this new development; usually we didn't do anything more stimulating than holding hands if there were people in our vicinity.
Instead, I asked a very valid question. "Really? How is this a matching mark?"
Great, it was almost like I was begging him to continue drawing on my face.
"You know, you're right." His pen came back up and this time my squeal gained us the attention of the two tables nearest ours. They watched with great amusement as Tyson aimed for my cheek, and I braced a hand against his solid chest to keep him at bay.
Recognising I was about to lose the battle, I gave up protecting my face in favour of getting a few doodles of my own in. By the time Miss Clarke stopped in front of our table to ask for last week's homework, Tyson had a complete N on one of his cheeks, along with a severely deformed O, where I'd started to write my name.
I could only guess at what he'd managed to scrawl on mine, considering he'd gained himself the upper hand by wrangling me into a headlock. Eyes dancing with laughter, Tyson managed to keep a straight face, resting his knuckles against his mouth as a means to keep from laughing outright. I, on the other hand, had devolved into a fit of giggles, and not even Miss Clarke regarding me with raised eyebrows could douse my good mood.
She looked from me to Tyson, and I was certain I saw amusement flare in her eyes as we both passed over our essays on South Asia and North Africa's nationalism. I was hoping she'd move on after that, but my earlier unease was proven correct when she spoke.
"I'll need to see you both after class for a few minutes, about your joint project."
I visibly deflated. I'd hoped our progress, that had come in leaps and bounds since we'd gotten together, would have been enough for us to scrape by until the next deadline. Miss Clark took a step, paused, and then glanced back at us, first at my cheek, and then at Tyson's.
"Is that NO on his cheek directed at what's on yours? Because I'm almost afraid to guess what that's in reference to," she said, nodding at my new face graffiti.
She had the smallest of grins on her face as she walked over to Janie's table to collect the essay she was waving about frantically.
"What's on my face?" I asked, giving Tyson a wide-eyed stare.
Thoroughly amused, he shrugged, lips pressed together tightly.
"Seriously, what'd you write?" And where was a damn mirror when I needed one?
Retrieving a bottle of water from his bag, Tyson wet the cuff of his sweater and reached for me. I squirmed away. "Nuh uh, buddy, not before I see what you scribbled on my face."
His eyebrow arched. "You're really going to walk the halls like that until you find a mirror?"
"It's last period." An idea came to me, and I dove for his bag. "I just need your phone for a second."
I was intending to use the blank reflective screen to see what I was rocking on my cheek, but Tyson was lightning quick. He shoved his bag off the table, wrapped me in another headlock, and began scrubbing my cheek. I grunted something extremely unladylike, pushing at his ribs to no avail.
"Damn it, Tyson, what does it say?"
"Nothing, because it's gone," he said, and right before he let me go, he dabbed at my nose as well to erase the original spot.
Supremely annoyed at him for preventing me from finding out, I clamped my arms across my chest. Beside me, he cleaned off his own face, his expression suggesting he still found the entire situation just delightful.
"That's okay, I'll just ask Miss Clarke."
"Uh huh, sure you will." He didn't believe me, which just made me that much more determined to get to the bottom of it.
I had to wait fifteen torturously long minutes, but the second the bell rang I was up and out of my seat, and when Tyson realised I was serious, he lunged for me. Sidestepping him so clumsily I nearly took out the guy getting to his feet at the table next to ours, I threw out a hasty apology and practically sprinted to the front of the room.
Miss Clarke was occupied with Janie, who had what looked like a 100 page essay cracked open as she highlighted various points to make sure Miss Clarke understood perfectly the arguments Janie was making in her work.
"I thought it was a 2000 word essay," I couldn't help but blurt. This earned me a death stare from the school's hopeful valedictorian.
Miss Clarke sighed, briefly glancing at me. "It is. And Janie, while I've already told you that I won't mark you down for exceeding the word count by three and a half thousand words, that doesn't mean I'll consider it extra credit, no matter how convincingly you argue otherwise. So hand over the paper and go home."
Ready to cry, Janie reluctantly did as she was told, tossed me another glower over her shoulder, and scurried out the door with the last of the students making a break for freedom. Behind me, I could feel the heat of Tyson; he'd come to a stop with barely an inch between his chest and my back, and for some reason he was still working to hide a grin.
I frowned at him. When had he become so expressive? And how had I missed the moment of transition from constantly moody to there being a few rays of sunshine starting to peek through his dark exterior?
Sitting behind her desk, Miss Clarke addressed us while she dug through piles of paperwork. "Well, I must say I'm pleasantly surprised to see how well you two are coexisting these days." The quirk of her lips left no doubt in my mind she knew we were together. Like, together, together.
"I don't know what brought it about, but I'm hoping nothing happens to change that at any point throughout the year."
Holy malediction, Batman! My happiness threatened to combust in on itself at that comment. She better not have jinxed anything, because I really did see myself with Tyson, well... indefinitely. At least until the end of the school year, so if anything happened in the interim I was totally going to blame her.
"Right," she continued, like she hadn't just tried to rain on my parade.
She flicked open a thin folder with our names scrawled along the top of it, pulling free two separate papers. Also pretty thin. I noticed everyone else's folders were just slightly thicker than ours. Except for Serena and Aidan's of course. They'd conceded defeat over a week ago and had actually asked for a failing grade. Now they sat as far as they could get from each other while remaining in the same room.
"While I'm pleased with the progress you've managed in such a short time frame, I do just want to touch base with you both, and make sure you understand that you still have a long way to go. To put it simply, you've barely brushed the surface."
She returned our drafts to us. Tyson and I remained silent, both of us having already figured this out.
"I need more depth. More history. Hell, more information on your family members would be a great start. What they're like, what family values they hold. A couple of family interviews wouldn't go astray. And neither of you have put down any of your own thoughts, regarding what family means to you. I see a lot of research on different cultural expectations of family, but not a lot of personal input."
I kept my expression purposely blank. But my thoughts were reeling. With my parents gone and my brother (who I refused to contact) in another country, that didn't leave many family members to interview. More like none.
And with Tyson's emancipation, he was facing a few dead ends of his own. Unless he broke his silence and used this as a chance to reconnect.
"The next draft deadline is in a fortnight. I need to see more progress, or I'll be forced to intervene in a way neither of you will like." She clapped her hands together cheerily like she hadn't just threatened our GPAs - again. "Right, get out of here kiddies, and I'll see you next week."
Tyson followed me out of the room, scowling down at his incomplete paper. "Family interviews," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Give me a break."
"I wonder if Courtney counts," I mused, tucking mine into my schoolbag.
We stopped at my locker so I could change out some books and take home the ones I needed for homework.
"You think of her as family?" he asked, his shoulder braced on the locker beside mine.
"Of course." That was a no brainer. No amount of shared blood could change the bond we shared.
"Then I don't see why she wouldn't count. It's your interpretation of family, right?"
I shut the locker slowly, processing his words. He was right. This assignment was about who I considered family. As well as interviewing Courtney, I could interview Mel, too. I smiled; things were starting to look up.
"Yes. Yes, it is," I said as we made our way to the main entrance.
Tyson stopped me at the top of the stairs with a hand on my forearm. A trickle of students passed us by; the minority of the student body who didn't vacate the premises like it carried incurable diseases within its halls the moment school let out.
"What are you doing tonight?"
I snorted. "Okay, that sounds like you're asking me out."
When he proceeded to stare at me with a blank expression, my heart jack hammered in my chest, beating so rapidly I was momentarily light headed. "Don't you have plans with your sister?"
Rachel's birthday was this Sunday and her parents were throwing her a birthday dinner. Since this was the day he and Rachel usually made plans, they decided to go out tonight instead. Tyson even got the night off work, something he rarely did. The last thing I wanted to do was intrude on his limited time with her.
"You should come. We're just going to have dinner, watch a movie. And she wants to do some shopping, God help me."
I twisted my fingers nervously in the hem of my shirt. "I don't know, Tyson. I really don't want to intrude -"
He cut me off by dipping to capture my lips in a brief kiss. One of his hands found mine and he gave my fingers a squeeze.
"You've been off since you argued with your brother, moping around with this sad look in your eyes. I can't do half of what I want to try and cheer you up, but the least I can do is spend a few hours keeping your mind off it. Besides," he added, expression turning playful, "With you tagging along, I won't have to suffer as Rachel's shopping buddy. Apparently my standard comment of 'it looks fine' is 'totally lame'."
Laughing at the idea of Tyson offering fashion advice, and going by the sincere look in his eyes, I nodded. "Okay, yeah, sounds like fun. But only if you're sure."
"Take Courtney home, and I'll pick you up from your house in about half an hour. I just have to make a quick stop." with a final squeeze, he let go of my hand and descended the stairs, heading for his Mustang.
"It better not be to buy more smokes!" I called after him.
"Course not, I quit, remember?"
He ducked inside his car before I could admonish him some more, so I settled for shaking my head as I jogged to the far end of the parking lot where I was forced to park my truck each morning. The spaces were easier to manoeuvre the beast into.
"About time," Courts said, leaning against the hood of the truck. "I would have gone looking for you, but something tells me we would have missed each other, and you'd have come out here while I was wandering the halls. Of course, life would be so much easier if you found your damn phone, but whatever."
I started to apologize, but she squinted at me, right before she got all up in my face, her unruly curls so voluminous they actually sprang forward to brush my cheeks. "Who the hell wrote on your face?"
"What?" I shrieked, far too excited for what the situation called for, and all but threw her out of my path as I rushed for my truck window.
The ink on the side of my face was so faded I came very close to mashing my cheek against the pane of glass, but after a couple seconds I could just make out Tyson's elegant script. A bubble of laughter escaped me, at the same time a welcome warmth spread outwards from my chest.
Better than a lollipop
"Ooo-kaaaay," Courts said, clearly coming to the conclusion I'd lost my shit. She dug my keys out of my pants pocket to unlock my truck. "How about you drive me home before you lose the last marble you have left."
Still grinning like a loon, I happily obliged, climbing into the truck and revving the engine. We weren't even out the parking lot before I was jigging in my seat like a five year old on a sugar high, telling Courtney what had just happened.
"You're going out with Tyson and his sister?" She was nearly as excited as I was. "Meeting the family already? Wow, this is serious."
I refrained from telling her I'd only ever be meeting his sister; I didn't count Derek for some reason, and knew Tyson's parents would never be in the picture. As far as anyone from school was aware, Tyson had a normal, two parent, squabbling sibling home life. Nobody besides me had ever asked him any questions, and he hadn't volunteered any information. Oh, the power of assumption.
"Yeah, I guess it is," I said instead.
Five minutes later we were pulling into her drive. Courtney undid her seatbelt, but paused with her door open, her legs dangling a foot off the ground. "Hey, No?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe when you get home tonight, you could call -"
"I'll see you tomorrow, Courts."
She sighed at my blatant change of topic, and knew she'd get herself nowhere if she pushed. She'd been nagging me from day one to contact Riley and build a bridge. I couldn't tell her that I'd only make things worse with how angry I was at him. Knowing my anger wasn't entirely justified only made things worse. At this point, it was best if I maintained my silence.
"Have fun tonight," she settled on saying, and I beeped the horn once before heading home.
I found a note from Mel sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen. She must have come home during lunch and to leave it for me. It was an apology sticky note; she had to work late, so chicken pot pie would have to wait til tomorrow. In the meantime she'd be bringing home takeout.
Locating the house phone was a lesson learned; as soon as I got home tonight, I was going to unearth my cell phone from the layers of clothing and shoes in my room. A quick phone call to Mel to let her know my plans, and fifteen minutes spent racing around my room trying to freshen myself up, and I was pacing the entryway waiting for Tyson.
I'd switched out my jeans for another pair of jeans that looked identical - because, you know, that was five minutes of wasted productivity there - and ditched the plain t-shirt for a long sleeved boat neck top that fit like a glove. My face was freshly scrubbed, saving me from walking around the mall with a phrase that could be construed in so many R rated ways.
I was on my eighth round of pacing when the doorbell rang, and I was so enthusiastic I yanked it open before sound even stopped. Tyson was standing in front of me in a fresh pair of jeans - I could tell, because these ones were so dark they were almost black, and didn't have any holes in them - and a tight fitted white t-shirt. Lo and behold it was a V-neck, my favourite kind.
Grinning like an idiot over the fact this was the first time my boyfriend had picked me up from my doorstep, I stepped out and locked the door behind me, stuffing my keys into my pocket.
"Better than a lollipop, huh?" I said by way of greeting.
Tyson laughed, a carefree throaty chuckle that did warm fuzzy things to my heart; I never took anything he did for granted, because I knew he was finally beginning to open up more and be himself. His situation with his parents had really done a number on him. It was nice to know he might eventually come back from that dark place, and even nicer to think I was part of the reason.
"Do you know how many ways something like that can be interpreted?" I asked, whacking him playfully on the shoulder.
He caught my wrist, using it to tug me to him until his arms were wrapped loosely around my waist. The scent of freshly laundered clothes with a strong jasmine tone, and the slightest hint of cologne assaulted my nose. He smelled good enough to nibble on, or strip naked so I could -
"Yeah, but you knew what I meant by it, and that's all that matters."
Indeed I did. He'd referenced our first kiss, which okay, had gone downhill pretty fast, but still, he'd remembered the good parts of it as well as I had, and that was pretty darn adorable.
"Ready to go?" I asked, reluctantly pulling out of his embrace before I completely jumped him on my doorstep and provided the neighbours with the scandal of the week.
He frowned down at me, appearing to search my body for something. "Where's your purse? Or a jacket?"
I shrugged. "My phone is buried somewhere in my room. The only other things I need are my wallet and keys which fit in my pocket. It's pretty warm out, so I don't think I'll need a jacket. If that changes, I'll buy one while we're out."
He shook his head. "Wow. I think you're the first girl I've met who doesn't pack up half the house to bring with her, just in case of an emergency. God knows Rachel doesn't leave the house unless she's prepared for the apocalypse to happen while she's out."
Laughing, I followed him to his car, and slid into the passenger seat. I had to move a hoodie and jacket onto the backseat, and when Tyson drove down the street in the wrong direction of his parent's house, I frowned.
"You're not picking your sister up?"
His jaw and shoulders tensed for the barest of moments before he forced himself to relax. "No. My parents don't know we're in contact, so we play it safe. She either gets one of her friends to drop her off, or I pick her up a few blocks down from her home."
An ache started in my chest. How awful it must feel to have to sneak behind your parents' backs just to see your sister. "Would they stop you from seeing her?"
"I don't know, and I don't really want to find out." He caught my downhearted expression and reached over to squeeze my thigh. "Hey, come on, it's no big deal."
It was a big deal, at least to me. He didn't deserve to be treated that way, especially for something he hadn't even done. But there was no point arguing it. What was done was done.
We spent the rest of the trip in silence, and when we pulled into the mall parking lot and made our way to the entrance I didn't need Tyson to point out his sister to me. Standing to one side of the entrance with headphones on, she was easy to pick out of the crowd, and not just because of her height.
"How old did you say she was?" I asked, taking in her hair that was a thick curtain of black silk ending just past the butt of her leather mini skirt. Her and Tyson also shared the same pretty coppery skin tone.
"Sixteen, why?"
I could see the beginnings of a smile form on his lips. Oh, yeah, he knew why.
"God, I feel like a cabbage patch kid. She has like five inches on me in flat shoes!" I cried, gesturing at her. She had yet to notice us, consumed with something on her phone.
"Seven."
"What?" I arched an eyebrow at him.
"She has seven inches on you; she's just shorter than I am." I was so pleased to discover he found my height crisis so comical.
"Your sister is six feet tall?" I couldn't believe it, but the closer we got, the more I was forced to accept it.
"And still growing. Don't worry, if she outgrows me I'll wallow in misery with you."
I didn't get a chance to respond; Rachel glanced up as if she could hear her brother talking, and a radiant smile broke out over a face that could simply be described as the feminine version of Tyson's. Her bone structure was slightly more delicate, but she had the same high cheekbones, full lips, and a jaw line only slightly less angular. The one thing casting them apart was their eyes; Tyson's were the brightest of blues, while Rachel's were a soul deep brown. Wearing no make up, she was a natural beauty if ever there was one.
"Big brother!" She threw her arms around his neck, her eagerness causing her headphones to be knocked off her head. Somehow, with my dismal reflexes, I managed to catch them before they cracked against the pavement.
Tyson hugged her back just as fiercely, kissing her on the cheek as she pulled back. "Hey, trouble."
"Trouble?" I blurted, glancing between the two. "Now how come she gets a cute nickname like trouble, and all I get is 'shit magnet'?"
Laughing, Tyson gestured at me. "Rach, this is Noah."
I held my hand out with a warm smile. "Hi. Me and your brother go to school together," I said at the same time Tyson declared, "She's my girlfriend."
I nearly choked on air, that's how flustered I suddenly was. Yes, we were dating, but I'd never heard Tyson address me as his girlfriend to anybody before. Cheeks flaming, I floundered for something to say, only to be sideswiped yet again when Rachel cracked a huge grin, eyes brimming with what I somehow knew was knowledge about me. She seized me in a bone crushing hug.
"Hi Tyson's girlfriend who goes to school with him." She flung her hair back carelessly over her shoulder. "I'm his baby sister who doesn't go to school with him."
Linking her arm through mine, and snagging Tyson's hand with her free one, she tugged us into the mall like it was all her show and we were the starry eyed audience. Which was pretty much how the rest of the evening progressed.
As well as being undeniably gorgeous, Rachel was extremely down to earth, inherently kind - at least, she was to me - and athletic to boot. The first stop we made was to Footlocker because she needed a new pair of basketball shoes. She explained she was co-captain of the girls' varsity team, and how this year's team was looking set to take the championship.
Tyson paid for her shoes before she could even dig her wallet out of a tote bag that looked like it weighed more than I did. We shared an amused glance, and he mouthed the word 'apocalypse' at me when she wasn't paying attention. Next we dropped be three different fashion boutiques, and I was surprised to discover Rachel's tastes were pretty alternative. While she loved to wear skirts and dresses, she refused to even entertain the idea of heels.
"I already tower over ninety percent of my classmates, there's no need to intimidate them any more than I currently do," she explained, staring wistfully at a pair of six inch stilettos.
She also loved thrift store type clothing. The more worn, torn, or vintage the garment, the more she just had to have it. Tyson paid for every single one of her purchases amidst heavy protests, easily taking up the role of doting big brother as well as pack mule; Rachel shopped like a possessed woman.
It was strange but also endearing to witness Tyson in such an environment. His sister brought out his soft side, and I often caught them sharing inside jokes, arguing good naturedly, and when they thought the other wasn't looking a tender look that spoke of a familial bond strained by the wrongdoing of their parents. It was clear they missed each other, even when they were together.
"Noah?"
"Huh?" I was staring at a display window of a jeweller, lost in thought. I frowned up at Tyson.
Bright blue eyes narrowed in concern. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry. I was just looking at..." I had no idea what I was looking at, and cast around for the first item that caught my eye. "That bracelet. It's pretty." And it was.
Rachel thought so, too. She just about took me out trying to get to the display. I was forced up against Tyson's chest so suddenly I grunted in surprise, and Tyson nearly lost three of Rachel's shopping bags. Switching everything to one hand, he wrapped his free arm around my waist to steady us, his hand splayed against the small of my back
I smiled at Rachel's wide eyes, her nose mashed against the display window.
"Isn't it gorgeous?" She was looking at the bracelet I'd just pointed out. Made up of gold links, the clasp was a heart shaped lock. A skeleton key dangled from a link near the lock, and interspersed evenly were other solid gold charms; a rose, a diamond studded horse shoe, an anchor, a stylized sun and moon, and a compass.
"I stop to admire it every time I come to the mall. Which is at least once a week. One day, when I make so much money seven hundred bucks will be a drop in the bucket, I'm going to come back and buy it. Hell, maybe I'll buy three just because I can afford it."
Releasing me to latch onto his sister's hand, Tyson began dragging her away. "Well, hate to say it, but today isn't that day, so let's keep moving. I'm hungry, we should find something to eat before the movie starts."
They strolled on ahead, and were so consumed with Rachel's list of things she'd buy if she won a million dollars that they didn't notice me slipping into the jeweller. I caught up with them just as Tyson turned around to search for me.
"Where'd you go?" Suspicion laced his tone, and he looked me over from head to toe. Sometimes he was far too astute for his own good.
"Who, me? Nowhere. I've been right behind you this whole time." I gave him my best innocent look. I probably appeared constipated.
"Really. Then what did I just say?" His eyebrow arched in challenge.
I opened my mouth to say who knew what, but was saved the trouble when Rachel yanked roughly on his arm. He staggered under the force, and before he could continue interrogating me Rachel linked our arms together once again. I was beginning to realise she was very touchy feely.
"Mexican," she practically yelled, though the place was busy enough her voice got swept away in the hubbub of the dinner rush.
We lined up at Taco Tico, a place I'd never eaten at before but seemed pretty popular, and Rachel proceeded to order half the menu. Unfazed by her voracious appetite, Tyson then went ahead and ordered the other half of their menu. Then they both glanced at me expectantly.
"Well, I was about to ask for whatever you're having, but I change my mind. I'll just have a couple of chicken burritos with everything on them," I said, already digging my wallet out of my jeans pocket.
Tyson waved it away, as well as Rachel's wallet, and paid for our meal.
"Twenty minutes," the dusky skinned man behind the counter said. "We'll bring it out to you."
We found an empty table on the fringe of the food court, and Rachel immediately started in on Tyson. "You need to relax, Bill Gates. I have money too, you know. I'm perfectly capable of buying my own shit," she admonished.
"Consider it a birthday present," Tyson said, sitting so close to me our thighs were melded together.
"Fine, but I'm paying for the movie tickets."
Having not put his wallet away, Tyson fished around in it for a few seconds, coming back out with movie tickets.
"God damn it, Tyson," she fumed, swiping them from him to inspect the movie title. "Don't you have bills to pay? How can you even afford all of this?"
His expression darkened, becoming guarded, and I felt him stiffen beside me at the reminder of his living arrangements. Working visibly to relax, he forced a nonchalant shrug. "Don't worry about it, Rach. It's no big deal."
I scowled at him, also beginning to realise he said that wretched phrase when something was the exact opposite of 'no big deal'.
"What are we watching?" I blurted, sensing Rachel wasn't willing to let it go. She cast me a quizzical stare, probably knowing exactly what I was doing.
Conceding defeat, even if it was momentarily, she rattled off a movie name I'd never heard before in my life, but my eyebrows rose to meet my hairline as Rachel gave a brief summary.
I was grinning when I glanced at Tyson. "A chick flick?"
"Now you know how much I suffer when I hang out with my sister." Though I knew he wasn't bothered in the least.
Dinner was good, and in the space it took me to eat my two burritos, both Tyson and Rachel cleared their full to bursting trays. Good God, but this girl's eating habits were legendary. Not even Ash could put away that much food and still have enough space in her body for her lungs to keep expanding.
Rachel beat Tyson to the candy bar at the movie theatre upstairs from the food court - because consuming the entire Taco Tico menu just wasn't quite fulfilling, and bought us popcorn and sodas. Despite my one expensive purchase, it still felt unnervingly weird not being the one to pay for everything. I was so used to physically manhandling Courtney out of my way at the cash registers wherever we went that it was just plain strange not doing it tonight.
The movie was right up my alley, and actually reminded me of a condensed version of One Tree Hill. Drama, check. Romance, hello. More drama, bring it on. Me and Rachel whispered throughout the entire movie, analysing different details, picking apart certain actors and their bad performances, and taking stabs in the dark to guess the plot.
On my other side, Tyson kept one hand curled around mine, slouched in his seat, and was sound asleep before the opening credits finished flashing across the screen. He didn't make a peep until I nudged him gently awake at the end, and it took him a second to remember where he was.
"You slept through the entire thing, didn't you?" Rachel asked as we exited the mall sometime after ten PM.
"No," Tyson lied through his teeth. "I watched the entire thing. Boy meets girl. After a heap of shit that could have been avoided with a little communication, they live happily ever after."
"Awesome, you just described every romantic comedy every made," Rachel said, laughing. "And I heard you snoring."
Tyson's head snapped around, eyes raised in silent question as he stared at me. I shook my head, letting him know he hadn't been snoring, and he shoved Rachel playfully.
We dropped Rachel off six houses down from hers, something I could tell didn't sit well with Tyson. Letting out a deep breath to maintain his cool, he got out of his car to let Rachel out of the backseat. I got out as well to say goodbye, but first, I pulled a small cloth bag out of my back pocket.
Confusion lit Rachel's face as I handed it to her. "Happy birthday," I said, and watched as she opened it.
"Oh my God!" she screamed, so loud I feared her parents would hear us from here.
"Are you crazy?" This was said by both of them in scary synchrony. Tyson continued with, "I saw that price tag. It was seven hundred and eighty dollars."
"It was on sale," I said, and my cheeks heated under Tyson's intense scrutiny. I'd tell him the truth, about everything, but not tonight. "And I had the money leftover from Courtney's birthday. It's no big deal."
His nostrils flared at my use of his little phrase. We'd be having words later, that was for sure. Luckily Rachel chose that moment to cut off my air supply, crushing me in another one of her hugs. Thanking me profusely, she let go to allow Tyson to plant a kiss on her forehead.
Giving her a sideways squeeze, he said, "Text me when you get inside. You know I won't leave until you do."
"Sure thing." Rachel scooped up her enormous pile of shopping bags, transferring them to one arm so she could pull me in close one last time. And she whispered something in my ear.
"Thank you."
My throat tightened, and I squeezed her back for a second. She then turned and jogged down the sidewalk towards home.
"What'd she say?" Tyson asked as we got back into his car.
"She thanked me."
"Then why do you look upset?" He tilted my face towards him with two fingers under my chin.
Because she wasn't thanking me for the bracelet, or for coming out with them tonight. No, she was thanking me for being part of Tyson's life, for slowly, painstakingly bringing him back from the dark place he'd ended up in. I knew it from her tone, and I understood the desperate gratitude in those two words.
It made me want to cry for a boy who'd been pushed out of his home, been denied the love of the two people who were supposed to offer it unconditionally, and it made me want to cry for the girl who loved her brother so much his unhappiness was her unhappiness.
"I'm not upset. I'm just tired. It's been a long day," I said, and though Tyson knew I was lying, he let it go and drove me home.
Without a word, Tyson turned his car off in my driveway and got out, leaving me to trail behind him. He paused on the top step, several feet from the front door, letting me know he wasn't inviting himself inside, just being chivalrous and walking me to it. My heart melted at his actions, and before I quite knew what I was doing, I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him down.
Our lips met in a hot, smooth caress, Tyson's moan of surprise smothered by my tongue demanding entry to his mouth. His arms came around me as he obliged, parting his full lips and sucking my tongue in past them.
One of his hands delved into my back pocket, and I heard keys jingling. He broke the kiss long enough to manoeuvre me and slide the key I pointed out into the lock. We didn't make it past the entryway. I had the presence of mind to shut the door behind us before I was consumed by Tyson. His kisses, his touch, his scent, his heat, he was everywhere and I still couldn't get enough.
My stomach dropped for a split second when Tyson grabbed me just under the butt and lifted me off the ground. With a startled squeak I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, and felt the wall at my back an instant later. I was trapped between it and his hard chest.
Simply kissing wasn't nearly satisfying enough, even when he tilted my head to sink himself into me as much as he could. I wanted more, and with Tyson, that was always the case. Squeezing my hands between our bodies, I yanked his shirt up, and then mine, revelling in the heat of our naked torsos pressed together. I clutched at his back, fingers digging into his muscles to draw him in as close as possible.
My hand moved south, caressing the warm skin of his back, and a delighted quiver shot through me when I encountered a dimple either side of the base of his spine. Oh, God, for some reason I found that irresistibly hot. Deciding to inspect closer at a later date, I glided my touch past them, and just wiggled my fingers under his tight jeans to feel the top curve of his ass when the worst thing imaginable happened.
"I hate to cut your evening short, but I'm really not into the whole voyeur thing, nor do I think Noah wants to remember me being an unwilling audience member during her first sexual encounter with you. At least, I hope it's the first."
Tyson and I froze the second Mel's voice carried down the hall to where we were. Our mouths parted and we turned together to spy her standing in the kitchen doorway in a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, a mug of coffee in one hand. She waved at us with her free one when she caught our attention, smiling genially.
"Yeah, hi, mature adult in the room, ready to break up your hanky panky."
Clearing his throat, Tyson set me on my feet and took several steps away from me, pulling his shirt back into place. Likewise, I scrambled to get myself presentable. There was nothing I could do about my hair; Tyson had had his hands fisted in it, so I was pretty sure it was a hot mess. Just like the rest of me.
I was practically humming with pent up excitement, and I could feel my puffy lips tingling from our kisses.
"Mel, hi!" My voice was three octaves higher than normal, embarrassment and giddiness throwing me completely off. "I didn't see your car in the drive."
Her smile only grew. "It's in the garage. Hi Tyson," she added, nodding at him.
Cheeks slightly pink, Tyson nodded at her in turn. "Hi, Ms. Brown."
"The perfect gentleman, as usual," she said on an appreciative sigh. Then she collected herself and tried once again to be the responsible adult. "Noah, it's late. I think it's time your hot piece of man meat went home for the night."
My mouth dropped open. Fire engulfed my entire body. I almost started looking for something to crawl under so I could die of embarrassment. "Mel," I cried indignantly.
She had a hand slapped over her mouth, eyes wide as she delivered me a silent apology. "Oh, shit. I'm so sorry, sweetie. It just slipped out, I swear."
"Oh, my God," I said on a groan, slapping my forehead.
"Okay, well say goodnight to your - to Tyson. I'll be in the kitchen." She disappeared before I could say anything else. When her abrupt departure was met with silence, I risked a peek at Tyson.
"Hot piece of man meat?" he queried, fighting to keep a straight face. "Wow. Sounds like a promotion."
"A promotion from what?" My voice was still abnormally high.
Unable to stop it, a shit eating grin curved his lips, and he leaned in, his lips hovering over mine. "Mr. Yummy."
"That's it, you need to go," I said, positively sweating, I was so hot. I shoved him in the direction of the door, pushing against his quaking shoulders. He was laughing at me, thoroughly amused by my embarrassment.
I had him outside, and was about to close the door on him when something occurred to me, and I called out to him as he was getting into his car. "It worked. I had a great time today, so thank you."
The smile he gave me was real. So real and genuine fireworks went off in my chest. "Anytime, Noah."