MY PARENTS GOT HOME LATE MONDAY night, about twenty minutes after I’d crawled into bed. I heard them come in but closed my blanket over my head and pretended to be asleep. I didn’t want to hear about the treatment, didn’t want to hear how things went. Clearly, I wasn’t a part of this process, so why try to insert myself now?
When I woke in the morning, it was early. I deliberately lay in bed until I heard them leave to drop my dad off at work. I knew I had some time before my mom would be back with the car, so I luxuriated in a long shower and thought about how today might be the day Sebastian would be coming into Matt’s to see me.
I found a note on the counter when I went downstairs. After pouring a bowl of cereal, I sat down to read it:
Chastity:
PS: Your father’s appointment went well. There’s nothing for you to worry about.
It was a PS. My dad had cancer, and all it warranted was a PS in my mom’s list of instructions.
Looking back over the list, I sighed. On a positive note the car would be fixed, so I wouldn’t have to rely on my mom or figure out another ride in to work. On the flip side, however, I had two dates with Hunter arranged on my calendar.
He was coming to Matt’s today? My mom thought Hunter would be the best person for me to talk to? Not, um, my best friend? Had she really arranged a setup at my place of employment? Did she think we would fall in love over discussions of my dad’s cancer? Agh.
Christmas Eve with the Johnsons—hip hip hooray! We were going to be a family united in love and in Christ. It was truly meant to be.
Three hours into my shift Sebastian still hadn’t been by. I started work at noon—Tanner had replaced the battery in the car with one he’d rescued from the junkyard in Flanders, so I’d been able to drive myself—and it was now three, and the place was dead quiet. I was the only waitress working. Angela started at four, so we overlapped for an hour. But at this rate I’d be sent home as soon as Ange got there.
“What are you doing for Christmas?” Matt asked me through the kitchen peek-through. “Big plans?”
“Nah, just the usual.” I remembered my mom’s list, and her instruction about Christmas Eve. “Hey, do you need some extra help on Christmas Eve?”
“I’m going to close up early that night. Take some time off before the day after Christmas hits.” Matt was cleaning off ketchup bottles, and I gagged a little when his fingernail flicked a piece of goobed-up ketchup into his face. “How was the party at your place the other night?”
I thought back to that night, to my time with Sebastian. He was strange and such a mystery to me—what was his deal? “It was fun. Danny’s a trip.”
Matt laughed. “He’s a good kid.”
“I don’t deny that,” I agreed. “He’s a hottie, too.”
“Not you, Chaz!” Matt gawked at me. “You have better taste than Danny.”
Matt was so gullible and dorky. “Yeah, Danny’s not really my thing. But that doesn’t mean he’s not hot.”
The front door opened, and I snapped to attention. I was too excited to see Sebastian to pretend to be cool about it. But it was just Danny, arriving a little early for his shift. “Speak of the Idol,” I muttered to Matt.
Danny settled in at the bar and knocked on it to announce his readiness for a drink. “Coke, please, pretty lady.”
“Get it yourself.” I grinned. “I’m busy.”
Matt shrugged at Danny. “You heard the girl. She’s busy. We’re busy.” Matt looked at me for support, then announced to Danny, “Get your own darn pop.”
“Chastity’s charm is rubbing off on you, eh, Matt?” He stood up and poured himself a big plastic cup full of pop from the soda fountain. “What you been up to this morning?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer, since the door opened again just then, and my insides took a tumble when I assumed it would finally be Sebastian. But when I looked up, Hunter was standing there, in all his fluffy-haired glory. He looked at me shyly, then took a seat at the far end of the bar, as far from Danny as possible. Cute, confident boys threatened him. “What up?” Danny called, flashing a grin at Hunter. Danny took every opportunity for self-promotion, always looking for a new fan.
Hunter waved awkwardly. I lazily dragged myself over to him and offered him a drink. “How’s it going?”
“How are you?” he asked meaningfully. He was taking his role as my Mom-directed confidant very seriously. “I’ve been thinking of you.”
Great, I thought. This is getting more unbalanced by the second. Out loud I said, “In what way?”
“What’s that?” Hunter took a swig of the Coke I’d just put in front of him.
“In what way have you been thinking of me?”
“About, well, I’ve been thinking about your dad. How are you coping?”
“That’s what you’re thinking about when you’re thinking about me? Are you sure?”
“Chaz …” He was gearing up to reprimand me. I could feel it. “Be serious for a minute. I want to help you. I’m here to talk about it.”
“This is just the place I want to talk about it,” I whispered sarcastically. “I appreciate the fact that my mom sent you here and you feel obligated to do her bidding, but maybe I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
Hunter swallowed—his Adam’s apple bobbed deeply in his throat. He was nervous. I was scaring him. Good. “That’s fine too. We can talk about something else. But just know I’m here for you.”
“Great.” I faked a giant smile. “That means so much to me.”
“Come on, Chastity,” he urged quietly. “Let someone in.”
What the fuck? Again with the emotionally closed-off criticism? I was sensing a theme. “You want in, Hunter?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
Matt came out from the back and interrupted. “Hey, Chaz, you’re cut, okay? I can cover things here—Ange will be here soon, and Danny can always wait tables if we need extra help.”
I felt sick, realizing that my Tuesday shift was about to end and Sebastian hadn’t shown up like he’d promised. I really thought he’d come. Hunter had come instead. “I can hang around, Matt,” I offered weakly. “I don’t mind.”
“There’s no sense in you standing here for the next hour. Enjoy the afternoon.”
“Okay.” I thanked him and dropped my apron behind the counter. I headed toward the door, waiting for Hunter to follow. My dad had his long shift at work on Tuesdays, and Mom was at choir rehearsal, so I had the house to myself for a couple more hours. “Are you coming?” Hunter just sat at the bar, lamely waiting for a handwritten invite or something. “You said you wanted in, right?”
He hopped up. “Are you going home?”
“Yeah,” I said. I had a veneer of confidence melted over my body, but internally I was seething and sad. Why did I feel so disappointed with my life? Had Sebastian really had such a significant effect on me that I was depressed and sulking about him not showing up? That was messed up, and I knew what I had to do take back control. I raised my eyebrows at Hunter. “Coming?”
He looked at me, and I saw him realize what I was saying. “You want me to come home with you?” I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and I suddenly didn’t care. I just wanted to make him stop looking at me with that horrible, pitiful look.
“Come if you want.” I pushed through the back door and climbed into my car. Hunter still wasn’t my top choice, but Sebastian was clearly a nonoption, and I’d been robbed of my opportunity with Hunter at the holiday party. I was owed a do-over. I needed a release, and Hunter provided a safe escape—a chance for me to let go.
He climbed into his car and followed me home. I hoped he would finally understand what I needed him for.
The way my body felt when Hunter and I stepped into my house was alarmingly familiar. I felt the same numb desire I’d felt the first time we’d had sex, and I knew this probably wasn’t the best idea. At the time I didn’t quite know why it wasn’t the best idea, but there was something blandly irritating somewhere under my skin that made me feel icky. It was almost like that feeling of having a pebble in your shoe, the kind that’s so small it’s not worth stopping to take your shoe off for, and then when you get home the pebble has rubbed against your skin in such a way all afternoon that you have a blister.
I guess that made my relationship with Hunter like a blister.
But the blister hadn’t yet begun to form—it was just a feeling inside that made me the tiniest bit uncomfortable while he was tugging off my Matt’s T-shirt. His lips were cold and overly damp as he laid kisses on my body. I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling in the basement, wondering if there was anything good on TV. Anything that would make me feel more in the mood for this. More in the mood for him to be my boyfriend—isn’t that what I was supposed to want?
Get over it, I scolded myself. Then, without thinking, I grabbed the remote from the floor next to me with one hand and hit the power button. I was so quick with my mute finger that Hunter didn’t even know what was going on over his shoulder. Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Shit. That wasn’t worth risking him seeing what I was doing while we did what we were about to do. I flipped the TV back off and tried to get into it. I thought of Sebastian, and at that moment my body responded to Hunter in the way it should. But the bliss only lasted seconds, and then I was back—in my basement, with Hunter Johnson.
I really wanted to be excited about this. Truly. Everything about Hunter suggested he was a good choice for me. He was nice; he was decent-looking; he was good to my parents; he was supportive. But he didn’t incite that fire that made my belly ache and my body scream. Is this what I will settle for? I wondered, as he delicately sucked my earlobe. Is this my future? Sufficient sex with a halfway decent guy?
Hunter reached his hand down my body, gripping at the top of my jeans before reaching inside. His arm stretched down, on a quest for something specific, some secret place he wanted to explore. He was on top of me now, so his arm was caught awkwardly between our bodies as he tried to maneuver into position.
My shirt was pulled up, so my back was exposed, and my skin rubbed against the carpet. Every time Hunter squirmed on top of me, my body shifted and the carpet dug into my skin. It was starting to burn. I distracted myself by reaching down to unsnap his fly, and I eased his zipper down. His pants flapped open, and I saw that he was wearing Green Bay Packers boxers. Traitor, I thought. This is Vikings country.
His breath was coming in shorter bursts now, and he moaned when I pulled my own jeans down around my knees. I kicked one foot free, my jeans hanging on around one leg. Hunter tugged at my underwear eagerly. He began to rub against me.
This is it, I thought, as his body pushed against mine. There was only one thin layer of clothes left, and we’d be back in business. Sex with Hunter, take two.
And then, suddenly, he stopped. “What the fuck?” he said breathlessly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, pulling him back against me.
“Your grandma.” He was looking up, staring disgustedly toward the TV. “She’s watching us.”
I craned my neck around, looking at Nonna’s picture and the rosary beads draped around her frame. “Do you want me to cover the picture up?” I offered, knowing full well that the moment had been ruined already.
“I can’t do this, Chaz.”
“You can.” I reached down and felt him, still hard inside his boxers. “You know you want to.” I felt like a pusher—some creepy drug dealer who preys on unsuspecting kids. I was making myself sick. “I want you.”
“You don’t want me,” he said sadly. “You’re willing to have sex with me, but you don’t really want me.”
I sat up, tugging my underwear back into place before pulling my jeans back on. I didn’t know what to say, so Hunter spoke again. “It’s not about sex or hooking up or whatever—this is real for me, Chastity.” His shoulders were hunched, and he didn’t look at me when he said, “I love you.”
It’s funny how at this point in movies the girl finally realizes that she’s been fawning over the wrong guy and that the right guy has been in front of her the whole time. With those three little words that Hunter had just said, movie girls realize their wrongs and recognize their golden future with the boy they hadn’t really noticed until that magical moment. That realization didn’t happen for me.
“I know,” was all I said back. He looked at me hopefully, wondering if there was anything more coming. The numbness continued to spread inside of me, and I could only say, “I’m sorry.”
In less than two minutes Hunter was out of there. I knew I’d broken his heart, and I did feel bad about that. But I couldn’t settle—wouldn’t settle—and without the spark there would be no hope for us.
Did I wish I could feel something for Hunter? Maybe.
Did I feel guilty that I’d let my own fucked-up emotions and single-minded drive for sex dick Hunter over? Absolutely.
Was I holding out for more than I could get? Probably.
Was it worth it? I hoped so.