Chapter 13
It was after midnight when Jason finally came home. I was relieved and disappointed that he went straight upstairs. Honestly, it was really difficult to decide who was going to be more difficult to control, Jason or me. It was clear I didn't belong here, just dealing with everything Jason was hard enough, and Mrs. Whitaker had made it very clear how she felt about the situation. In a way, this felt like some kind of penance for getting involved with him. I was what I was and I wasn't supposed to have these kinds of feelings for a human—they were supposed to be food.
Jason surprised me, yet again, the next morning by not knocking on my door. He was in the kitchen. A little confused, I must admit, I opened the door.
"Oh, there you are. Sleep well?" He flashed his pearly whites in a mock smile.
"I got started on my makeup work."
"Oh, that, boring. Come on, I won't bite." He patted the chair at the table next to him.
We kissed, cautiously and then he poured a tiny portion of cereal in a bowl, added milk and slid it over in front of me.
"Gotta make it look good." His gaze washed over me—no, he leered. "That what you're wearing today?" It was clear from his tone he disapproved.
"After the incident in the bedroom last night, I didn't want to—"
"What incident?"
I scooted my chair closer. "Your jersey was a little much, so I took it off and wrapped up in a blanket. Your mom saw me like that when she brought my clothes up."
Jason bobbed his brow. "Whew! Wish I could have been there for that."
"Jason, it's not funny. She had every right to draw the conclusion she did."
"What conclusion was that?" He stuffed another spoonful of cereal in his mouth.
"She thought I was waiting for you."
"Were you?"
"Absolutely not."
"Too bad."
"So what's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I had on my old black sweatpants and sweatshirt.
"Oh, hey Mom." He nodded toward the stairs.
"Good morning, kids."
"So Mom, how old does Izzy look?"
"I don't understand what you're asking," she replied apprehensively.
"What she's wearing—she looks what, maybe forty?"
"Jason!"
"Oh, no, I don't mean anything by it, it's just the way she's dressed. The guys are coming over later and well, you know—"
"I know no such thing—you appolo—"
"Sorry." He leaned over and kissed my cheek. "You know I didn't mean anything by it."
Sure they were my favorite sweats, but I was wearing them as much for him as I was for me. Bummin' they called it, was one way I could help keep his hormones in check. "Well, thanks for breakfast." I took my bowl—making sure Mrs. Whitaker saw it—and headed for the sink. Once I washed it out, I placed it in the drying rack and headed back toward my room. "You should get started on the makeup work," I reminded Jason. "There's a lot to do."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it."
"You started?" Mrs. Whitaker said, seemingly surprised.
"Last night. Well, thanks again for breakfast." I caught a glimpse of her smile before I closed the door.
"Well, at least Izzy's—"
"Don't start, Mom. I'll get to it. Alex is coming over. We're going to play that new video game you gave me."
"Well, don't put it off too long." She cleared her throat like she was going to say something else, but must have thought better of it.
An hour passed and a car pulled into the driveway.
"Hey, Mrs. Whitaker." Alex said as he came in through the back doorway.
"Jason's in the family room, right through there."
"Dude!" Jason greeted him. "This game is totally awesome."
The springs groaned as Alex plopped down on the sofa with Jason. There was an occasional yelp or groan—they were obviously engrossed in the game. I went back to my schoolwork. I wouldn't say the teachers were punishing us for our little excursion, but I was pretty sure this was a whole lot more work than if we'd stayed in school. Jason and Alex were talking again.
"So where is she?" Alex whispered.
"Right through that door," Jason said.
"Wow, that must be great."
"Yeah, she's really something."
That made me feel good—he sounded like the old Jason. I yanked off my sweats and slipped into his football jersey. It was teasing—ah, so what. As I started to open the door, Alex spoke again.
"So, you've like got access?"
"Hey," I said, pulling up short—not exactly sure what Alex meant.
"There you are." Jason jumped up, raced over and wrapped his arm around me. "She looks almost as good in it as I do," he joked.
"Better," Alex said.
"Mind getting us a soda?" Jason asked.
I glanced around the room and then listened carefully—Mrs. Whitaker was in her room upstairs. "Sure."
"Damn!" Alex panted quietly as I walked past. I glanced back at Jason—he was fanning his face. I grabbed the soda's quickly as Mrs. Whitaker started down the hall. The last thing I needed was for her to see me parading around like this.
"Thanks, babe," Jason said as I tossed them each a can.
I retreated to my room. 'Access?' That was definitely what Alex said, but what did he mean?
Mrs. Whitaker stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Jason, it's getting late and you have to start on that school work."
"Yeah, Mom. We're like almost at the end of the level."
"Alright. Nice to see you again, Alex. Maybe you can get him to start on his work. There'll be no football next season if he doesn't get it finished."
"You got it, Mrs. Whitaker."
The floor creaked as she retreated back up the stairs. There was a loud volley of explosions as they reached the climax of the level—then it was quiet.
"So seriously, you've got access?" Alex asked again.
"Why do you think Mom put her room down here—squeaky springs."
"Man, I didn't figure Izzy was like that."
"Hey!" Jason's voice shot up. "She's not some—"
"Dude, you don't have access, do you? Hey, it's cool."
"Yeah, Izzy's great."
"I tried with Cathy—whoa! Big wall!"
"I thought you really liked her, why risk—"
"I did—do, but you know how it is, there's a lot of pressure. I think it will be even worse next year when we're seniors."
Their footsteps headed off toward the backdoor.
"Guess with her living right under your nose, it's just a matter of time." Alex said, his voice fading down the back steps.
"See ya later, man," Jason called after him.
"That's Izzy's car, right?"
"Yeah, pretty crazy isn't it?"
"I think it's freakin' awesome. We should build a pair over the summer. I heard old bugs are cheap."
"Sure, something to think about."
The backdoor banged closed and a short time later one of the college bowl games came on the television.
Was he really going to let Alex think—maybe I didn't know him as well as I thought. I definitely needed some answers. I listened closely—his mother was still upstairs. I changed back into my favorite sweats, and then opened the door.
The house was dark, except for the flickering light from the television washing over Jason. He perked up when he saw me and patted the seat next to him.
I walked over, but didn't sit down. "Were you really going to let Alex think—"
"Nah," he moaned, "no way, not my girl."
"But you—"
"It's just locker room talk—we didn't mean anything by it." He patted the cushion next to him again. "You shouldn't listen in like that," he added.
"Not really something I can turn off and on you know."
He reached up and I let him pull me down on the sofa next to him. "Why'd you change?"
"Didn't want to upstage you," I teased.
He laughed. "No way I can compete
—it's all you. You're just freakin' beautiful."
I stood, pulling him up with me—his arm still wrapped around my neck. I kissed him—testing the fire in the back of my throat. It seemed safe, so I pulled him tighter and nuzzled against the nape of his neck. "Maybe I should tell the girls I have access?"
"Would you—that'd be awesome."
"What?" I shoved him back down on the sofa.
He winced. "Hey, I was just kidding."
"Sorry, I forgot about your shoulder." I looked toward the stairs.
"Mom?"
"Yeah. You better get started on the makeup work. There's a lot more than you think."
"Aren't you going to help?"
"Yep, I'm going to let you do it."
"Awe, come on, it's your fault I have to do it in the first place."
There was a squeak at the top of the stairs. "Jason, you still up?"
"Yeah, Mom. Just watching the game."
She started down the stairs, quickly probably thinking she would catch us.
"I'll think about it." I kissed him and darted back into my bedroom.
"Get to bed, Jason. You can finish the game in your room."
"Sure."
The light under my door went out along with the sound of cheering fans and Jason's footsteps slowly trudged up the stairs.
The rest of winter break was uneventful. Jason did his makeup work and even though he complained about it, I only helped when he was really stuck. After all, he didn't have all night to work on it like I did. I heard his mom make some comment like 'I must not have put much effort into it' when it took Jason so much longer, but I didn't sweat it and figured she could find out what kind of effort I'd put in when we got the grades back. Don't get me wrong, Jason was smart—but like I said, he had to sleep.
The guys came over a few times and I found that instead of trying not to eves drop—which was impossible—if I hung out with them they behaved themselves. All in all, I'd say everyone adjusted to the situation, even Mrs. Whitaker. Before we knew it, it was January fourteenth, the first day of class. For me and Jason it was even a bigger deal—well for Jason anyway—we were to report to the front office first thing to find out if we'd be going forward, or retaking last semester's classes.