All Your Life by Lily Foster
Chapter Four
Busted.
I’m still pissed at Parker, but getting caught in a lie is still unsettling.
He’s sitting at the kitchen island with an obscenely large bouquet of red roses resting between him and my mother. They’re laughing like old pals when I come walking into the kitchen, while my father—yup, he was supposed to be out riding with me—is making himself a cup of coffee.
“I was just about to make Parker some breakfast, Bug. Are you hungry?”
“Nope,” I answer, even though I’m damn near starving. “I ate before I left for the club.”
My mother shoots me a look because I’ve just made this little get together awkward, but taking in my father’s profile, I see that he’s cracking a smile as he’s pouring cream into his cup. He’s probably wondering what Parker did to his little girl that required an early morning stop at the florist, so my snotty tone and dismissal please him.
“Don’t go to any trouble, Mrs. Hamilton. Sarah, you want to take a drive instead and we’ll grab an early lunch?”
This exchange would be so much easier if we were alone, but no, we have an audience. I seriously don’t want to get into it right now. Could you imagine? Sweetie, what’s the matter? Oh nothing...Me and Parker are just fighting because I won’t give up the goods. The worst part?I don’t trust that my mother wouldn’t side with my boyfriend. I imagine her advice might go something like: Well, you are almost eighteen...What are you waiting for?
“Sure...Gimme a minute.”
Five minutes later I’m changed into sweats and my hair is in a messy topknot. I want him to see that I’m putting in zero effort. Once we’re in the car, he turns to me. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Why?” I shrug when I add, “You’re entitled to want what you want.”
“I want you, Sarah, and putting pressure on you was wrong. I was wrong.”
“But why do you want me?” When he looks away, I ask him again. “I’m being serious, Parker. Sometimes I wonder what it is that you see in me.”
His voice is flat when he says, “And sometimes I wonder if you even care about me at all.”
His words sting, and I look down into my lap feeling guilty. “I do care. You know that.”
He’s still looking straight ahead when he reaches over to take one of my hands in his. “I can see us,” he says a moment later, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “I can see a future for us.”
“What do you mean?” As the words leave my mouth I’m wondering why I’m even asking the question. Am I fishing for compliments, or some affirmation of my worth? Deep down am I that girl? Do I need the “it” guy to tell me that I’m special, wonderful, or, God forbid, pretty?
When I look up I see that he’s turned back to face me. “You’ll be at Penn, I’ll be at Princeton...An hour away. And I’m not looking to chain you to me for the next four years...I know what being at different schools means. But I think about my future and I definitely see you in it.”
“You do?” I want to slap myself for sounding so needy, but it’s no use.
“I do. And as for what I see in you? Jesus, Sarah, you’re smarter than just about everyone I know, you’re kind to everyone and you’re beautiful. You make me want to be a better person.”
I don’t know what to say to all that. I’ve never been able to accept compliments without feeling uncomfortable. When I don’t answer, he leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “So can we please just forget about last night? We’ll move at your pace, no more pressure. I feel like an absolute ass when I think about what I said to you.”
I look down into my lap and nod, and for that I get another chaste kiss. “Good, I’m glad that’s settled. Logan is having a thing tonight, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather skip it and just do something low key like grab take-out and watch a movie. Sound good?”
While I know that I’m being played to a certain degree, there is a part of me that’s grateful for the gesture. Because let’s face it, for my boyfriend, skipping a party at Logan’s house is like the Pope ducking out of Easter Mass at St. Peter’s.
“As long as I get to pick the movie.”
“Fine,” he leans over and nuzzles into that spot beneath my ear where he knows I’m ticklish, “but then I’m taking lead on chow. Do you want to hang out now, or just see me later on? I know you like to get your act together on Saturdays, and that back there was just a ploy to get you out of the house.”
“I do need to study, so yeah, I’ll see you around seven?”
He gives my hand another gentle squeeze and whispers, “Love you,” when I turn to get out of the car.
“Love you, too,” I parrot back.
Same as always.