Shift by Ginger Scott
15
Iget to school late, and Dustin doesn’t even bother to come. I think it’s more about avoiding my brother than anything else. If I could have gotten away with skipping today, I would have too. But me ditching would only fuel my family’s case about Dustin leading me astray.
My best friend’s reaction to the news is the exact opposite of my parents’. True, she’s partly glad to not have to deal with me whining anymore about my unrequited crush and prom, but I can also tell she’s genuinely happy for me. That doesn’t mean she isn’t guarding my heart, though. I wish she wouldn’t plant worries in my head so soon.
“You’re sure he’s not running away, right? That he didn’t send you here so he could skirt off guilt-free?” She leaves me with this new fear on our way to last hour, dismissing it with a wave of her hand and an added “I’m sure it’s fine.” But is it?
I wander into my last hour dazed by her theory. What if Dustin kept driving after we parted? I nibble on my fingernails, one at a time, while my lit teacher drones on about terrible fathers in Thomas Hardy novels. I pay attention to that part, laughing quietly to myself at the striking resemblance some of his characters have to Colt. I bet he would have sold his wife and son for cash like the main character in The Mayor of Casterbridge.
I’m lost in that thought when Tara, the quiet girl who sits next to me, nudges my elbow with her pen then points toward the window when I glance up. I turn and my eyes meet Dustin’s almost immediately. He lifts a hand and I check to see whether my teacher is looking before holding mine up in response. Soon, I’m biting my lip and remembering how his feel.
He’s like a dream. The wavy locks of his hair blow in the window, crossing his forehead that he wrinkles by furrowing his brow in response to the bright afternoon sun. He’s wearing all my favorites, though I doubt he knows that—black jeans, the black Vans, and the long-sleeved gray shirt that hugs his chest and smells like every dirt track we’ve ever visited. Last time he was resting on our couch with his feet up on one side, I drew hearts on the bottoms of his shoes. The ink bled deep into the rubber, making it hard to wear off.
The final minutes of my class are spent with my eyes glued to him, though he only looks my way once or twice. I love the way he reads his phone, the way he slides his hand into his back pocket when he’s done, and how he gnaws at the inside of his cheek while he’s thinking. So much to think about, and I’m sure he dreads walking back into my house, but I’m determined to change everyone’s minds when it comes to Dustin Bridges.
He is not his father. If anything, he is better than all of us because of his father.
When the bell rings, I waste little time, gathering my things and scrambling out the door and through the hallways to the curb of the parking lot and the boy I’ve been staring at for what’s felt like hours.
There’s no hesitation in my steps, and I march right up to him until my chest is pressed against his and our lips meet. His hands slip from his pockets and hover at my sides for a second, stunned by my boldness. But he comes to quickly, dipping them into the back pockets of my denim shorts and squeezing my ass enough to lift me into him more.
“I guess we’re letting everyone know what’s what then?” he says against my lips as we part. I fall back and his hands slip from my pockets but linger on my hips. His brow is arched on the same side as his raised lip and dimple. It’s perfectly adorable and I take a mental picture to dream about later.
“Just Michael Bosa,” I tease, knowing the jock will walk through the school gates to his Mustang any second now. I doubt he even glances our way, but the chord of jealousy I strike does its job.
“Oh, well, in that case,” Dustin says, moving his hands into my hair and dipping me back for a possessive kiss that instantly leaves my lips raw and satisfied.
“Hey! Get a room!”
I laugh mid-kiss at the sound of my best friend’s voice. Dustin pulls away enough to make eye contact but still holds me with my back arched.
“I’d love to get a room . . . and do so many things,” he says loud enough just for me. My cheeks burn at his offer, followed by a swollen ache between my legs. I’m wet just from his suggestion.
“You following me home?” I ask as he lifts me back to a standing position.
He sucks his lips in and looks off to the side, the dent in his forehead putting me off ease.
“Dustin,” I say, my voice quiet and pleading.
His head swivels back to face me and our gazes lock. His throat moves with a hard swallow.
“Don’t let them run you off so easily,” I say, reaching up and grabbing hold of his shirt at the center of his chest. He laughs and covers my hands with his, leaning forward to drop a kiss on my forehead.
“Han, I want this to work. And if I’m going to win over your parents, I don’t think I should be living under your roof. I’ll be fine. I should probably check on my mom anyway,” he says, his voice strained.
I shake my hands against his chest, pounding lightly while he holds on to me. He laughs lightly. I glance to my right to where my car is parked, Bailey sitting on the bumper.
“I have to take her home,” I say, nodding toward my friend.
“Good. You should do that,” he says, walking me backward a few steps. He moves his hands to my cheeks, cupping them before dusting my lips with a chaste kiss that leaves me buzzing for more. I grab his wrists as we stare into each other’s eyes.
“I grabbed my clothes and stuff already, not that I have much. I’m gonna drop the box at home and then I’ve got a race I wanna check out in the Valley tonight. Maybe I’ll cruise by after and we can meet up in the garage again?” His teeth snag his bottom lip as he raises his brows, which makes me laugh.
“I don’t want you to go.” I sigh, knowing he’s right and that he’s going to respect my father as much as he can.
“And that makes me feel amazing,” he says.
My heart pounds, its strength growing and pushing against my insides harder and harder the longer Dustin and I stare at each other in complete silence. I told him I loved him. I told everyone I loved him. I know he feels the same, and I’m patient, but the truth of what I said lingers in the air between us right now. I feel it, taste it.
“I’m holding you to that promise. I’ll see you tonight,” I say, slipping from his fragile hold while wishing he’d reach for me, hold on and never let go.
“Tonight,” he repeats, tugging open his door and leaning on the window frame to watch me walk away. I sway my hips a little more knowing his eyes are on them.
“You two are seriously hot together,” Bailey says.
I smile and say thanks before getting in the car, my inner voice saying “I know.” Bailey has no idea how fucking combustible we are.
* * *
Idrop Bailey off and decide to start the hard work of moving my parents over to my side. My dad’s the harder sell, and I get that he’s conflicted given how close he and Dustin are and what we’ve all been through together. We were, on many weekends, “his kids.” I’m sure his head is a little screwed up over the idea of us as a couple.
My mom, however? She’s soft. She’s the reason we took Dustin in when he couldn’t be at home. She’s seen the bruises, and I heard her and dad fight about calling Protective Services when we were younger. For a while, I thought she was going to push to adopt Dustin. Fuck, what a mess that would have created now!
I pull into the small parking lot behind city hall and dial her office on my phone. She picks up in the middle of the second ring.
“Hannah? Are you all right? Is everything okay?” I can almost visualize her cupping her phone and pacing her office with worry by the way her voice sounds.
“I’m fine,” I say, killing the engine and getting out of my car. My brow pinches so much I feel the fold of skin between my eyes. “Why are you so worried? I call you all the time.”
“I know. I wasn’t . . . I just . . . I’m glad you’re okay.” She coughs down her overreaction.
It hits me suddenly. I stop midway to her office, just outside her window.
“Is this about Dustin?” I ask pointedly. I turn so I’m square with her window, looking at my own reflection as it outlines her behind the glass. She twists in her chair and our eyes meet. “What, did you think he kidnapped me? Took me off to start a meth lab and make babies out of wedlock?”
She recoils at my hyperbolic questioning.
“Hannah.” Now her tone is condescending.
“No. Don’t Hannah me. Mom, even if you don’t like the idea of me dating a boy—”
“It’s Dustin, Hannah. It’s Dustin.” As if this makes it all okay.
“Yeah, Mom. It’s Dustin. And even if you don’t trust him, you trust me. You do trust me, don’t you?”
There’s a pause that lasts just long enough to dry out my throat. I punch out an offended laugh.
“Are you kidding me?” I turn my back to her and head toward my car, sorry I ever tried to make any of this okay. Maybe I should run away with him. I’d be the one kidnapping him, but that’s not how anyone would see it. Their minds are so made up, and they are so wrong.
“Hannah!” My mom’s voice comes from behind me, not through the phone. I unlock my door and toss my phone to the passenger seat, then stop to stare at her over the roof of my car.
“Shame on you,” I grit out.
Her eyes start to tear right away. Imagine how this must look to anyone in their offices looking out on this tiny parking lot. The mayor’s daughter is making the mayor cry. Hell, in this fucking small-ass town, this outburst might make the news.
“He’s been through so much, he doesn’t even know what his life experience has done to him yet. And I worry. Can’t I worry?” She’s begging me.
I look down at my palm as I grip the keys in my hand, the teeth digging into my skin, and I chuckle to myself.
“Sure, Mom. You can worry. But you should also have some faith. A life like his might just make someone resilient.” I lift my head until our gazes meet and I hold hers through the slight flinch she makes just before the corners of her eyes soften.
“I’ll see you at dinner, Mom,” I say, not waiting for her to respond.
I climb in my car and pull away, only glancing in the rearview mirror once as I pull out of the city hall lot. She’s still standing where I left her.