Bobby’s laughter sends shivers up my spine. He collapses down in a loose-limbed way onto a patio chair. “I don’t want your money. I’ve already told you that. I’m here until I graduate in May, for Linda’s sake, then I’m getting the hell out of here and not coming back.”
Len rolls his eyes. “Ah, that’s right. Not going to college, even though your mum wants you to. Breaking her heart so you can live poor and live real or some such nonsense like that. Fuck, that’s only something a kid raised with money would say. I’ve been poor, kid. Trust me, you won’t like it, but since you don’t want my money, would you mind signing back over to me on your twenty-fifth birthday that trust your mother made me set up for you?”
“Consider it signed over.”
“Good.”
Their postures change in that argument over kind of way.
“How long are you here for?” Bobby asks.
Len shrugs. “I fly out on Saturday. Your mum says you’re leaving on Wednesday. Off to surf somewhere. She’s not happy about that.”
“It’s better for everyone if I’m not here,” Bobby states calmly. “You only really fly in from the road to see Madison and Mom.”
A look of having been stung by that comment flashes across Len’s face, but he doesn’t say anything. I can tell Bobby doesn’t pick up on it.
I wait to see if Bobby comes back to his room for me, but after several minutes, I suck in some air and decide to go out there.
I make my way across the patio to the pool area.
Len’s eyes shift to me. “Kaley Stanton, there’s my girl.” He stands from where he’s sitting on the lounger.
His expression is warm and friendly and such an abrupt change from what it was with Bobby I do a double-take. He beams at me from a face of very British features half-hidden by an unruly cloud of reddish-blond hair.
I stop behind Bobby’s chair. “Hello, Mr. Rowan.”
Len laughs; a pleasant, easy-flowing humor not at all like the man he’d been a few moments ago.
“Mr. Rowan, huh? Stop that nonsense now. You’re too old to call me Uncle Len like you did when you were this high”—he lowers his hand to knee level—“but we’re still friends, aren’t we, love? So it’s ‘Len’ for you and me.”
The weirdness of this on the heels of everything else renders me mute, so I smile and wait for Bobby to rescue me from this extremely awkward moment.
Bobby exhales loudly and then stands. “We’re out of here, Pop.”
Bobby does a fast inspection of me—I can see that he can tell I heard everything—and a flash of embarrassment and concern is followed by a silently asked are you all right?
I stare at the ground, and inside I die a little, because a lot happened here today, striking at all those old wounds in me and, fuck, Len Rowan gave me a few new ones to ponder.
The part about me being off-limits for Bobby. It’s been roiling inside me enough so that I’m wondering if that’s my appeal to Bobby. He did latch on to me pretty quickly. Zoe is right; he is the most popular guy at school. And for the first time, I’m starting to wonder if Zoe was wrong; maybe I didn’t land the hottest guy on campus in two days by being a total bitch.
There is as much going on in Bobby’s universe as there is in mine. Subtext and undercurrents I’ve somehow missed before today, but I need to figure them out quickly. Have I read Bobby’s interest in me wrong?
Am I just a fuck you to his dad?
A thing he’s not supposed to do, but does because contentious relationship isn’t even in the realm of what I witnessed today?
I hate that I’m doubting Bobby.
I hate that today made me feel this way.
And I really hate it because I know I love him…
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand. I look up, startled. “I just need to grab a shirt, my shoes and my keys.”
“See you soon, dear,” Len says.
I nod, and Bobby starts pulling me with him toward his room. I can feel Len watching.
Inside the pool house, Bobby releases my hand and reaches for a shirt. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Are you OK?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Bobby stops what he’s doing and looks at me. His eyes glow with insight. “Don’t do that, Kaley. Talk to me.”
“It’s just—” I break off, unable to articulate the things in my head with those penetrating and soulful green eyes watching me. “Forget it. I don’t want to talk about it. Drive me back to school so I can get my car. That’s what I want.”
His mouth presses in a hard line and he runs a hand several times through his hair. “Just what? You’ve never held back on speaking your mind. Don’t start now.”
“I’m not afraid to speak my mind. Not ever, Bobby. I was trying to be considerate of you by not saying anything about what went down between you and your dad.”
“That’s big of you. It’s also a load of crap.”
Knee-jerk temper kicks in. “Fine. You want to know what I’m wondering?” I step into him until we’re practically nose to nose. “Why you’re really with me. When did your parents start giving you shit and saying I’m off-limits?”
His eyes widen, surprised. Not the question he expected.
“The first day I brought you home with me. Right after I got back from picking up my motorcycle from school. I guess I was gone too long, and Linda was up my ass the second I stepped through the door—and I quote—wanting to know if I’m such a jerk that I popped your cherry in a school parking lot before I came home. Made it very clear if it’s not popped, don’t pop it. It was fucking humiliating. They’re always giving me shit about something. Them telling me ‘no’ about you isn’t about you. It’s about me.”
My knees go weak, I sink down on the bed, and drop my face into my hands. “Oh gross. Pop my cherry? Did Linda really say that? How can you say that isn’t about me?”
“Because it isn’t. Everything is not about you, Kaley. You only think it is. I get it, why you feel that way, but it’s not true. Everything is not about you.”
My face snaps up.
“Not about me, huh? It sounded like it was a few minutes ago when your dad told you to stay clear of me. That sounded pretty fucking about me, Bobby. Are you only interested in me because your parents don’t want you to date me? Is that what we’re doing here? Hooking up because it’s part of this strange war you have with your dad?”
He stares at me like I’m nuts.
“You can’t honestly believe that.”
I lift my chin. “Tell me it’s not true and I won’t.”
“I shouldn’t have to.” He starts moving around the room in an agitated, frustrated way. “Fuck, you are paranoid in the extreme at times. Do you know that? None of any of this is about you. Linda and her revolting cherry comment is just her reverse psychology bullshit. She’s so obvious at times that if I didn’t love her I’d fucking hate her. She likes you and is still not completely certain that I’m not gay—”
A disobedient laugh escapes me, since two minutes with Bobby should make that a preposterous concern for anyone. I could tell he wasn’t gay even before he put his mouth on my clit—oh shit, my face is on fire again—since he’s as all-male as guys get.
“—I’ve never brought a girl home before you, other than Zoe. And before you ask, it’s because I’ve never cared for any girl enough to bring her home.”
Pausing, he stands above me silently waiting for me to digest all that. It’s a lot to digest and he’s had a pretty rotten afternoon since his dad pounded on the door, so I shrug and lamely say, “Oh.”
He sits down on the bed close to me and collapses back in total frustration. “My wanting to be with you,” he continues in a breathy, ragged voice, “has nothing to do with anything but me and you. That shit you heard from Len, that isn’t about you and me, and has nothing to do with any sort of ‘war’—as you put it—between me and my dad. That’s about him.”