Slowly, Fran places her mug down and then crosses her arms. “Sugar.”
What is she doing? That’s a mom tone. Anxiety prickles along my skin. I want back the cool and fun aunt I had at the beginning of summer. I raise my chin, already prepping for my defense.
“Adam King is… He’s got a bit of a reputation with the ladies. Has he tried to pressure you to do anything?”
I throw my hands in the air. “Oh my God!”
“I want you to be careful. You’re off all the time with him, and you’re not talking to me. You come in the house dripping wet. Listen, boys like Adam, they see someone as good and as sweet as you and… you’re like a delicacy. He’s known for smooth talking girls into his bed. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”
“Who are you to give me the sex talk?”
“I’m your aunt. And your guardian while you’re in this house. I care about you, Sugar. I’m just trying to look out for you.”
This is unbelievable. She’s seriously trying to invade my personal life, my love life. “You haven’t been in my life, and now you think after a couple of fun days together you can offer advice? Tell me what to do? Yes, I’m staying here and I appreciate that, but you have no right, no place, trying to discuss such personal matters with me. Curfews? Yes, it’s your house. Who I can bring into your house? That’s fair. But who I choose to date and what I do with them? Not your call. Not your place.”
I’m being too hard on her. I know it. She’s obviously concerned about me and feels responsible for me. But I’m so frustrated. The entire walk back, I stewed over Ashley yelling at us and Adam’s attitude, and the truth is, I know he’s expecting sex from me. He hasn’t come out and said it, but I’m not as naïve as they all assume. He’s leading up to it, and I’m still a virgin.
I’m in over my head. The truth is, I’m crazy about both brothers. I don’t know how to navigate all these urges. And I have no one to discuss this with. My mom would flip if I called her. She’d automatically assume her sister has corrupted me. Aunt Fran makes me feel like I’m stupid, and my friends back home would be judgmental.
I want to feel Adam’s warmth, but I long for Ashley’s attention. I kiss Adam, but I crave the next time I’ll see his brother. Adam is the one I can have, and I do care about him. How could anyone not love Adam? Sure, he’s cocky and a little bit of an ass, but he’s fun. Not to mention he’s gorgeous. Adam has a way of zeroing in all his attention on the person he is looking at, and it’s as though nothing else exists. He makes me feel important. Then again, the more I get to know him, the more disappointed in him I’m becoming. I don’t want to face what kind of person he might actually be. I like my fantasy too much. I’m away on a summer island with the most handsome guy, who is devoting his summer to me. Crazy? Yes. But why can’t I have it? I have the rest of my life for disappointments and reality. A part of me blames Ashley for messing with my head. And now Fran is stepping in? I bet if I confessed my feelings for Ashley, she’d have a stroke. Then again, I don’t know her, because this is our first time connecting with each other. I’m such a bitch. An ungrateful little bitch. She’s opened her home to me for the summer and has been amazing. Aunt Fran is offering me a listening ear, a shoulder to lean and cry on, and instead, I’m using her as a verbal punching bag. I want to confess everything to her and pour out all my emotions, thoughts, and fears. Maybe she can help me sort through this jumbled mess and see if there’s any way to make sense of it all.
Ashley King pops back into my mind. His frowning and judgmental face. He probably thinks I’m an immature and foolish girl, and how I’m acting would only prove him right. My eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. I miss Mama. She’s not as fun as Aunt Fran, but she’d know how to comfort me right now. She wouldn’t stand there and stare at me like Fran is doing. Mama would grab me and force me into a hug until I cried myself into exhaustion. Then she’d say, “Now that you’ve calmed down, tell me what’s really going on.”
Aunt Fran holds her hands up in defeat. “I know I haven’t been around—”
I don’t want to discuss me anymore, so I change the subject. “And why is that? Why haven’t you been around? You promised to tell me after three weeks. Why should I trust you with anything when you don’t trust me?”
Her lips press into a thin line, and her eyes become glassy. “You’re right.” She clears her throat and brings her palms together as though she’s praying. “Go shower. Put on some dry clothes. Then come down here and I’ll tell you.”