I wake up bright and early, a bundle of nerves. I turn over and glance down at the floor. All traces of Hank are gone, except I see my books are no longer strewn about, but instead stacked neatly in the corner. I hop out of bed and rush to the bathroom to take a shower. Even though graduation is this afternoon, I still need plenty of time to get ready. The bathroom door is shut. Los Lonely Boys blares from behind the door. Nuts. Austin won’t be out for the next half hour at least. This leaves me no choice but to go downstairs to the kitchen.
I tear down the stairs and run down the hallway through my mom’s room to use her bathroom. I’m about to burst. Seconds later, I feel much better. I walk back to the kitchen to see what my mom’s made for breakfast. On Saturday mornings, she embraces domestic life by trying out new recipes, as it is her favorite time of the day and week to cook. I walk in the room and scan the area for the gentle giant, but he is nowhere to be found. I plop down in a chair, all disappointed.
Mom brings me a cup of coffee and sets the milk down beside me. She slips me a pink packet of artificial sugar. “Sugar for my sugar.” She leans over and kisses my head. “Good morning, baby.”
I reach out and squeeze her hand and push away thoughts of moving out soon. I’m excited about college, but I have a healthy fear of the unknown. My therapist told me at our last visit I have xenophobia, but I don’t agree. I’m not afraid of people or strange places, I’m only afraid of seeing new places and meeting new people. I’m not really afraid so much as annoyed, because the idea of getting to know someone new and building a whole new comfort zone is exhausting. I already have my support system, and my room is my safe place; and even if I establish a somewhat secure space at college, I’ll still be sharing it with someone else, so it won’t totally be mine. What if my new roommate is a psycho, or what if she thinks I am? Or what if she can’t handle my quirks that I don’t know I have? What if Jenni goes off to her college and makes new friends and forgets about me? I have to stop these thoughts. My chest constricts. My muscles are spasming. I think I can’t breathe.
Clap! I nearly jump out of my skin at the loud noise near my left ear. A wet hand grips my shoulder. Ewwww. I shrug him off. Austin swaggers by me wearing just his shorts as he drips water everywhere. I swear the boy doesn’t know how to make proper use of a towel. He shakes his head like a dog, scattering me with water droplets. He gives me the chills before turning all Austin-angel-face on my mother.
“Yo, yo, ma. Whatever you’re cookin’, it sure smells good.”
I stand up, grab the towel off his neck and wind it up before snapping his wet back with it, leaving a satisfactory red mark. “That’s for sprinkling water on me.”
He snatches the end of the towel and yanks me toward him until we’re nose to nose. He growls at me. “You’re gonna get it now, senorita.”
My knee instinctively goes for his groin, but he blocks it. I jab my pointer finger between his ribs. He dances straight backwards into the skillet and comes down hard with a defensive elbow that hits the handle, making the pan and its contents leave the stove top, leaping high into the air, about the time my mom yells, “Damn it, Amy! No horsing around in my kitchen!”
It’s like super slow mo, as Austin and I lean back and watch the flying frying pan of hot eggs and sausage pass between us.
A hand shoots out of nowhere and grabs the pan by the handle, saving the skillet from following the food to the floor. Hank stands up, skillet in hand, while his other hand rests underneath. I can see by his expression it burns. “Put it on the stove now, Hank!” My words wake him from his locked-in daze. He lays the pan down gently on the stovetop. After, he holds his hand up and looks at his red palm as if he’s not sure what just happened. I grab his wrist and tug him toward the bathroom and the first-aid cupboard.
My mom calls after me. “Amy, you’re going to clean up this mess on my floor!”
I holler back. “Austin started it! Hank burned his hand! I have to help him first!”
I shut the bathroom door behind us. “Stick your hand under the faucet.” I turn on the cold water and yank Hank’s hand under the spout. My hands shake as I reach over to grab the tube of aloe from the cupboard. I fight with the cap. “I’m so sorry, Hank. Austin and I become such idiots when we fight. He just irritates me so much sometimes.”
Hank laughs. “Foreplay.”
My ears can’t be working. “Excuse me?”
“It’s like foreplay. The way you two act.”
I shake my head vigorously. “No, no it is not. One, he’s my stepbrother, and two, that’s just gross. And three, must you guys always be thinking about sex?”
Hank studies me before he tilts my chin upwards with his thumb. The rest of his hand rests on my neck. He leans in slow and easy. I meet him halfway for a deliciously lazy kiss. He pulls away, smiling. “Good, because you’re mine.” He draws back a second and waits for a response. I can’t think of an answer as I stare down at the floor. “I’m a guy, of course I think about sex.” He steps back into me and picks me up as if I’m feather light. He sets me down on the edge of the sink. He wedges himself between my knees and grips my hip with one hand while his other hand tangles in the back of my hair. He tips my chin up just slightly before his lips meet mine again. I’m lost in a fire so hot I can barely breathe.
When he finally pulls away, I’m shocked to find my ankles practically glued to his backside.
My feet fall along with my sideways gaze. I try to manage some sort of control over what just happened. I lean back and look up into his triumphant face. I feel ridiculous as I speak. “Hank. We’ve kissed a few times. That’s all. I wouldn’t say we belong to each other.”
He frowns a little as his hand flies to my hip once more, turning up the temperature. His grip tightens. His other hand wanders down my neck, ending up with his thumb on my lower lip. “I would.”
I give his hands a nudge as I somehow manage to slip past him like a bowl of half-set Jell-o. I wobble all the way back to my room. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll make it to the compound, or if hot-lips Hank will annihilate me first.