Her face lights up. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. Her hands cover her eyes briefly before looking back at me. “Thank you,” she whispers.
It’s in that moment that I know I’ll do whatever I can to make this family smile, because it’s so going to be worth it.
I pull my comforter up to my chin and roll over, facing Mason’s side of the bed. The alarm is going to go off in about thirty minutes, but I’ve been awake for over an hour, tossing and turning, trying desperately to find some way to shut my mind off. Every time I close my eyes, yesterday morning replays in slow motion, all scenes that I’m having a hard time forgetting.
Yesterday marks the first time I’ve seen a man naked, aside from Mason, and I couldn’t look away. I didn’t even try. I think I knew deep down he was in there. Subconsciously, my mind heard the water running and shut off when my hand reached for the doorknob and opened it. I don’t know if I was meant to find him like that, but I certainly wasn’t going to leave, not this time.
The night of the show, the song, those words; they tore through me. I was so jealous of Josie while I sat there listening to Liam sing words that I was sure were meant for her. I wanted them, even though I don’t deserve them. The only thing I des
erve is to see Harrison on the arm of some bimbo groupie because I can’t make up my mind. I’m so hot and cold with him, yet he sticks around, patiently waiting for me.
I told Harrison I’m going to try, and I am. Each day that I wake up will be a new day with a new adventure. I’m not trying to forget Mason or replace him, but make room in my life for something different, someone different. Dr. Brooks told me that it’s okay to date, and that’s what I’m going to do, not that I know a thing about dating.
Yet, I have fear in my heart. I don’t want the girls to get attached. They already like Harrison and expect him to be around because he lives in Beaumont and is in the band, but what if we stay together for a while only to break up, what then? I know I’m getting ahead of myself. He may not want me after a month or two and I’ll be back to square one.
Today will be an obstacle and one I haven’t really considered or thought would be necessary, but it is. I need to tell Mr. Powell my decision to start dating. I don’t know how he’s going to take it, with it only being a year after Mason’s death, and for him that might not be enough time. I’m not sure if it is for me, but I need to take a chance that these feelings I have for Harrison are real and not just because he shows me attention. He’s bringing out sensations that I didn’t know existed.
I close my eyes in a last-ditch effort to get some sleep. Harrison’s there right before my eyes. His body is dripping with water. The droplets pebble and roll down his torso. My mouth falls open as I take in almost everything I’ve been wondering about. Quinn is etched across his heart. There are others, but this one stands out because I know how much he means to Harrison. I don’t know where to put my eyes. If I look down, I see him, more than I ever thought I would, but looking at his chest isn’t much of a difference. The silver ring hanging from his nipple sends a shiver down my spine. I’ve never seen one up close. I clench my fist to keep myself from reaching out and touching it.
Everything is moving in slow motion. My body temperature is rising steadily. I know I should leave, but I can’t. Even if I wanted to, my body is being a traitor. I’m cemented to the floor. I feel antsy, excited. I need to do something, anything. He looks at me, his eyes hooded. He knows I’m staring, taking him all in.
Words are exchanged. I’m mortified. I don’t turn away, but watch him as he steps into a pair of worn out gray sweatpants. He comes toward me. He looks dangerous. Sexy. He reaches behind me and shuts the door. The telltale click of the lock turning into place doesn’t scare me.
Harrison rests against the counter, pulling me to him. It’s now or never. I want to touch him. I need to feel him under my fingertips to know if this is real or not. I stand between his legs. My knees are pressed against the cabinets below. I give in and let my hands roam up his chest. I purposely avoid his nipple ring. I want to savor the moment when I can pull it in my mouth. I finally push the offending towel off his head. He closes his eyes as my fingers delve into his hair. I’ve been aching to see him without a hat, and now that I have, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get enough. His dark hair is soft to the touch and showing a hint of curl. Each pass-through rewards me with a new thought. What does he look like with longer hair? Shorter? Does he ever shave it off, or does he keep it this length? Most importantly, will he allow me to touch him freely whenever I feel the need because right now, I can’t get enough. The wait has been too long to only touch once. He keeps his hair covered for security, why? Who’s he protecting himself from? I want him to let me in and teach me how to be the security we both need. Everything about his man is turning me on when I thought that wouldn’t be possible, but standing here, pressed against him, I know that I have to try, that I owe it to myself to see if we’re capable of being together.
I startle awake. Looking at the clock, it’s time to get up. My body is on edge, racked with nerves and anxious to see him again. I don’t know if I should call him or maybe show up at his house. We don’t have plans to see each other and I’m afraid to admit that it scares me that we don’t. I refuse to allow myself to think he has plans with someone else, but the truth is, I don’t know. I can’t help but second-guess everything and I know I need to stop.
When I enter the living room, the twins are sitting on the couch together sharing a bowl of dry cheerios and watching cartoons. This was Mason’s way of making them wait until I woke up before we had breakfast. Breakfast together on the weekends – that’s how things are in the Powell household. Knowing that they’re content, I sneak off to the bathroom. I rest against the closed door and think about Harrison and everything that happened yesterday comes flashing back. If men can get away with a cold shower, what can women do?
"PAPA, PaPa,” both girls yell as soon as they are out of the car. My father-in-law, Michael Powell, steps out onto his wrap-around porch. He bends down and embraces both of them, rocking them back and forth. They are all he has left of Mason and his wife, Susan. I don’t really count. I was just his daughter-in-law, but those girls… they are his link to the two most important people in his life. I know he loves me, though. We’ve shared a bond from the first day I stepped into his house.
“Dad,” Mason yells through his house. He drops his football bag on the living room floor and strides down the hall. I stand at the door with my back pressed against the wall. I straighten out my skirt. It’s long, just below my knees and flowing. I feel stupid wearing this today, but my mother insisted. She said a young girl doesn’t meet parents in shorts or jeans. I’m surprised she let me ride in Mason’s truck and let me come over. I’ve seen her watching us from the window when we’re swimming and he’s sneaking kisses. I tell him not to kiss me in the swimming pool, but he doesn’t listen.
“Katelyn?” I look up from the floor and grin at Mason. He’s so cute and hot, definitely one of the cutest boys in school. I like that he’s my age, but it scares me that I’m not his first girlfriend. I try not to think about what will happen when school starts. I know he’s going to dump me for someone else. I’m just his summer fling because we have a pool, that’s what my mom says.
But right now, I’m enjoying it when he’s kissing me, encouraging me to touch him when we do. I felt his chest yesterday and I liked it. I don’t know if he liked it though, and that worries me. What if I’m not doing things right?
“Katelyn,” Mason steps forward and pulls my hand into his. His fingers interlock with mine and swallow my hand. “This is my dad, Michael Powell. Dad,” Mason looks at me, he smiles so big that I can count his teeth if I wanted. “This is my Katelyn.” Mason squeezes my hand. I try not to let my body react, but my heart is beating so fast that I think it’s going to jump out of my chest. He said ‘my Katelyn’.
Mr. Powell steps forward and offers his hand for me to shake. I let go of Mason’s hand and place it in his. I know Mason’s parents. I’ve told him this, but Mason said it’s different when you introduce the girl you’re seeing to your parents.
“It’s good to meet you, Katie.” I hate that name. My mother uses it and I purposely ignore her when she does. It’s not my name, but Mr. Powell has always called me ‘Katie’ and I’m too polite to correct him now.
“Hello, Mr. Powell. This feels funny, don’t you think?”
“A little, but Mason says it’s necessary.”
“Yes he does.” I poke him in the ribs only for him to take my hand back into his.
“Well if you’ll excuse me, I’m cooking dinner.” Mr. Powell excuses himself from the living room, leaving us standing there. It feels a bit awkward and I don’t really know what to do. I swing our arms back and forth and look around the room, anywhere but at Mason.
“Want a tour?”
I nod, unable to find my voice. He leads me through the house, stopping and talking again with his dad. When we reach his room, the jitters are in full-force. I know I’m not allowed in a boy’s room, but curiosity gets the best of me. I step over the threshold and look around. His room is a little messy, not spic and span like mine, but it looks comfortable. I walk ar
ound, touching his trophies that sit on his shelf and the ribbons that hang along the wall. I pick up a picture of him and Liam Westbury and study it. It’s of them in their football uniforms from the fall. Josie and I went to a few of their games this past fall. I’d like to think I’ll be going to more as Mason’s girl, but I’m not getting my hopes up.
The creak of the bed gets my attention. I turn and see Mason sitting on the edge, watching me. He’s quiet, reserved. Does he not want me here? I’ve heard so many things about him from other girls that I know he’s experienced. He’s probably brought me here for sex. I’m not ready for that at all.