A cloud of musty air greets us as we walk in and she reaches over to flip on the light and ceiling fan. A double bed sits against the wall along with an oak nightstand and dresser with brass handles circa 1982.
I plop down on the bed and run my hands along the country blue quilt, which I definitely won’t be using. “This’ll do.”
“I’m right next door, if you need anything.” She points to the wall to her right.
“What would I need from you?” I’m fucking with her. I’m bored, and she seems easily excitable. “A bedtime story? A glass of warm milk?”
Her jaw slackens and she takes a step back. I wait for her to come at me with something, to put me in my place, but she doesn’t.
“Dad says you’re going to school with me tomorrow,” she says instead. “We leave at seven thirty. Don’t be late. Bathroom schedule is outside the door.”
Of course there would be a bathroom schedule. All these bedrooms and people and you’d think someone would’ve added a few extra bathrooms.
“You’re sharing the green bathroom with Bellamy and me,” she says. “Two doors down. I shower at six. She showers at six fifteen. You shower at six forty-five.”
“Six forty-five. Got it.”
“Bellamy put a hamper in the bathroom for you,” she says. “You get your own.”
“Our clothes can’t touch?” I laugh. She doesn’t. “Okay.”
“Dad’s rules. You can take it up with him.” She sighs, like she doesn’t have time for my shenanigans a moment longer. I’m guessing she’s itching to get back to Bible study, or whatever she does at night.
Waverly nibbles on her bottom lip. Her innocence is sexy in the most inappropriate of ways. I’d find her utterly fuckable, if she didn’t have such a big stick shoved up her ass. She reminds me of the girls at church who’d stare at me like I was the world’s most eligible bachelor because I was the preacher’s son. In that world, my father was a king and I his princely heir. They looked at me like I was changeable, someone they could mold and shape into their perfect future husband. The joke was always on them. Many have tried, many have failed. No one has ever been able to change Jensen Mackey.
She drinks me in, a soft sigh leaving her lips.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I’ve never been one to beat around the bush, and I sure as hell won’t start now.
“Like what?” Her nose wrinkles like a bunny. Like a sexy, church-going bunny.
I smirk. “You can leave now, Waverly. Report to your daddy that all is good here.”
“What are you talking about?”
I lean back on the bed, folding my hands behind my head and staring up at the ceiling fan and the dust speckles that swirl in the dim light. “See you in the morning.”
“Breakfast is at seven,” she reminds me as she slinks out the door. “Please try to be on time.”
I cross my feet at the ankles. “Don’t usually eat breakfast. This morning was an exception.”
“It’s not an option here. We eat as a family.”
“Then save me a seat across from you.” Two can play this game. If she wants to keep tabs on me, then I’ll smother her so hard she won’t know what to do. It’s not like I have anything better going on.
She closes the door and I’m left alone in a boring room with bare, white walls and a single window with a view of the backyard. I pop up to inspect my surroundings. A white privacy fence connects the main house with another house. My mother’s colonial is two doors down. From the street, they look like three neighboring homes. From the backyard, they’re all connected. I’d say the fence is at least eight feet high. There’s a covered, in-ground pool behind Summer’s house as well as a whole host of children’s toys. The backyard reminds me of a daycare center, only with better landscaping.
A light rap on my door pulls my attention that way. I don’t get a chance to tell my visitor to come in before the door swings open. It’s Kath.
“Oh, good,” she says. “Found you. Just wanted to tell you goodnight before I head home.” She glances around, tilting her head. “We can spruce up the room, if you’d like. I know you’re only here a few months, but there’s no reason you can’t personalize your space a little. Just, you know, keep things appropriate.”
“No naked women. Got it.”
Her cheeks blush. “What kinds of things do you like?”
It’s odd to be standing across from my flesh-and-blood mother and realize we’re complete strangers.
“Do you like music?” she asks.
Do I like oxygen? “I doubt Mark would allow my kind of music in his home.”
“What do you like, Jense?”
Oh, now we’re on a nickname basis? I vaguely remember her calling me “Jense” as a kid, though I could never tell if those memories were real.
“I like to sketch. Give me some pencils and some sketchpads. I’ll do the rest.”
Her face lights up at the revelation that my hobby is something she can be proud of. Kath’s hand covers her heart. “You used to draw me pictures. I knew even as a small boy that you had talent.”
“Pretty sure you’re supposed to say that.”
She walks toward me and cups my cheek. “Swelling’s going down. You okay with going to school tomorrow? If you’re not ready, I can talk to Mark about waiting a bit longer.”