Instead of answering, Andrew licked his lips (they were surprisingly full, for a man) and gave a brief jerk of his head. His dark hair went flying and my palms itched – suddenly, I was desperate to know what it would feel like if I ran my fingers through his dark locks.
Andrew smirked. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”
I licked my lips. “Fun?”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Yeah, fun,” he replied. He leaned closer, putting his hands on the dining room table until he was mere inches away from my face.
“I study,” I said. A peculiar feeling was spreading through my limbs – a blend of excitement and arousal and the odd sensation that Andrew was making fun of me, even though he hadn’t said anything to that effect.
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “Studying,” he drawled. “Yeah, that does sound fun.” He peered intently into my eyes and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “I bet you really know how to throw a party, Sis.”
My cheeks burned flame red and I shook my head fast enough to make my brown curls obscure my vision.
“I can’t really go to parties,” I said. I was mortified – my voice was barely above a whisper. I desperately wanted Andrew to think I was cool, too, but I was doing such a piss-poor job of it that I might as well just give up and slink upstairs.
“Well, here’s the thing with good ole Mom and Dad,” Andrew said sarcastically. “They only know what you tell them. So, if you wanna have fun, you gotta do that on your own time.”
He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his black leather jacket and lit up, right in the middle of the kitchen. Wreaths of blue smoke clouded around Andrew’s head, rising up to the shiny white ceiling that Mom and Dean had painted just days before.
“I don’t think Mom and Dean would like you doing that,” I said, unable to stop myself. Andrew just smirked in response. I winced and blushed – god! It was like I couldn’t fuck up any more if I actually tried!
“Well, I do lots of stuff Dad wouldn’t like,” Andrew said. He exhaled right in my face and I started coughing violently as the toxic smoke rushed into my lungs. Before I could get a chance to ask him what he’d meant, Mom and Dean rushed into the room and as I’d predicted, began scolding Andrew about smoking in their house.
That had been six years ago. Even though I’d grown up from a teenager into a young woman, I knew deep down that I was still the perfect goody two-shoes, the little princess who listened to every word that came out of Mommy or Daddy’s mouth.
No wonder Andrew thinks I’m a drip, I thought as I watched Mom and Dean exchange a terse look.
“So, what happened?” Mom tried to keep her voice down. I was staring down at my papers, but my ears were glued to the mouths of my parents. I was desperate to hear what they had to say about Andrew – it was the most thrilling thing that had happened to me in at least six months.
“Carissa,” Dean said. I imagined him jerking his head towards me. “Shouldn’t we talk upstairs?”
Mom sighed. I got ready for the inevitable – surely, she and Dean would tell me to leave the room. But what she said shocked me.
“I think Kristin is old enough to hear what Andrew is really like,” Mom said. She flicked her gaze over me. I felt my cheeks flush as I pretended again to be absorbed in my studies.
“Well, if you’re sure,” Dean said slowly. My heart was pounding in my chest as Dean and Mom walked over to the table and sat down.
Play it cool, Kristin, I told myself. Just play it cool. It’ll be fine. I knew I was acting ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it – this was a huge deal for me.
“What happened?” I glance up from my schoolwork at Mom and Dean, trying to read their faces.
“Andrew has always been…difficult,” Dean said tightly. He smiled unhappily. “And while your mother and I have always tried to help, I think that he’s beyond help right now.”
I frowned. “Why? What did he do?”
Mom sighed. “Honey, it’s not really a
question of what he did. It’s more of who he is, really.”
“I’m confused.” I bit my lip. It wasn’t a lie. I was so sheltered that I truly didn’t have any idea of what constituted as a “bad” person. If you’d asked me to name someone who was bad, I probably would have replied: “someone who doesn’t pay their cell phone bill on time.”
“Well, honey, don’t worry about it too much,” Mom said with a sigh. She turned to Dean. “What did you hear?”
“He was living with another man,” Dean said through gritted teeth.
I frowned. “Like a roommate?”
“No,” Dean said sharply. “They shared a bedroom.” He and my mother exchanged another dark look. “And it was sinful, Kristin. Do you understand?”