"The one and only," I answered, shooting him a small new-to-me smile.
His eyes widened slightly at my smile, but he didn't comment. "Sure, maybe," he said as the first bell rang. "I better go so I'm not late to class," he said, shuffling off down the hall.
I watched his retreating back with a serious knot in the pit of my stomach. I knew he wouldn't meet me for lunch. It was an unwritten rule that our friendship wasn't designed to be shared.
I was still bogged down with guilt over James when I met Dean after school by his jeep.
"How was your afternoon?" he asked as I threw my backpack into the backseat.
"Nauseating. PerryPervert called me up to go over my English essay. I had the pleasure of watching him jiggle his junk the whole time I stood there. It was like a train wreck. I didn't want to look, but I couldn't seem to help myself. I'm pretty sure I threw up a little."
"What a dick," he said, putting the vehicle in reverse.
"I think that's the problem. Maybe he doesn't have one and he keeps checking to see if something magically appears."
Dean snorted.
"So, what are we doing tonight?" I asked, letting some of my insecurities show.
"You'll see," he said in his mysterious cloak-and-dagger voice.
"Really?" I asked sarcastically. The idea of a plan I had no knowledge of was enough to fill me with apprehension up to my neck. I was already pretty sure that I wasn't going to like his plan. Especially since he'd thrown the words family around all willy-nilly. My fears were verified when five minutes later he pulled into a long curved driveway in front of a huge sprawling yellow ranch house. Everything about the house in front of me was inviting. The exterior of the bright sunny yellow house was adorned in multiple potted plants that carried an array of different kinds of flowers. Multiple well-trimmed trees broke up the long expansion of St. Augustine grass that filled the space between the house and the curved driveway. The large trees provided shaded areas that were occupied by tastefully arranged sitting areas for those who would like to watch the world go by. If I had stumbled on the house in the forest, I would have labeled it as enchanting. Even being smack-dab in a community full of other houses, it stood out, practically screaming hominess. I'd seen enough TV to know that in the suburbs this house would be classified as a dream home with outstanding curb appeal. Everything about it screamed hard work, love and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. One thing was abundantly clear. I did not belong here.
"My house," Dean said, stating the obvious.
"I see that. I'm not going in there," I said, shaking my head to emphasize my point. There was no way I was going in there to be paraded around to his family.
"Come on, Mads, it'll be fine. My parents are dying to meet you," he persuaded.
"You've told your parents about me?" I screeched in an unnaturally high voice.
"Mads, they figured something was going on since I've been MIA almost every afternoon for the last two weeks."
"Well, sure, but don't they just assume you're hanging with friends or something?"
He laughed. "My parents never assume anything. It used to drive my older sister Trish nuts."
"You have an older sister?" I asked, momentarily distracted.
"Yeah, she's a junior up at FSU, majoring in art therapy. You'll get to meet her next week when she comes down for Thanksgiving."
I was already shaking my head negatively. "No. I'm not meeting anyone in your family," I said, folding my arms stubbornly across my chest. My multilayer of black bracelets clinked together.
"Come on, Mads, don't be a baby. They're going to love you."
I snorted, looking down at my appearance. My attire of black on black had suited me well the last four years, but at the moment, seemed plain and downright ugly. Not to mention my pale skin coupled with the written tattoos on my wrists. I was a parent's worst nightmare. I definitely wasn't the type of girl guys brought home to meet mommy and daddy.
"You can do this," he said seriously, sensing my inner turmoil. "Unless of course, you're chicken."
"I hate you," I muttered, climbing out of the front seat. I'd do this, and when his parents hated me on sight, I'd have the satisfaction of being right. But the question was would it be a victory I really wanted?
Dean walked around, joining me at the front of the jeep. "Piece of cake," he said, lacing his fingers through mine. I didn't flinch from the contact. Over the last two weeks, Dean had slowly chipped away at my defenses. "You can stop looking like you're about to step foot in a serial killer's house," he teased, tugging me toward the front door.
"I'd prefer that," I answered as he turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Several things hit me at once as I stepped into his large sprawling house. First, the room we entered was huge. It ran the length of the front of the house, forming a perfect square. A large kitchen separated by long high-top counters sectioned it off from the living room and dining room which was visible from where we stood. Obviously, the builder had gone for an open floor plan. The delicious smell of spiced pumpkin permeated the interior of the house, and I couldn't help sniffing it appreciatively. The smell was warm and welcoming as it enveloped your senses. The only thing my house had ever smelled like was the cleaning solutions June used when she cleaned our house each week. It was the decor in Dean's house that drew me in the most. The walls were painted a warm taupe and adorned with numerous family pictures that were tastefully hung in rich wooden frames. Seeing them made me want to peruse each frame, dying to see actual family pictures.
That idea was put on hold when two little girls came tearing through the kitchen and tackled Dean around the legs, screeching his name at decibels I was pretty sure dogs five miles away could hear.