Contessa (18 page)

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Authors: Lori L. Otto

Tags: #Fiction, #Coming of Age

BOOK: Contessa
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None whatsoever,

my dad says.

Thank you.

My dad nods his appreciation across the table.


It

s so far, though,

I tell Jon.

Connecticut?


It

s less than two hours from here, Livvy,

Jon says.


And it

s only an hour away from the lake house. You love the lake house. You could go there and paint on the weekends.


I could still do that if I went to Parsons, Dad.


I guess you

re right,

he says as he stands up from the table, beginning to clear it.

We can talk about it another day.


Livvy, if you want to take Jon down to the media room, you can check out some movies or music or something,

my mom suggests.


I wanna watch a movie,

Trey whines.


We

ll watch something upstairs, Jackson,

my dad bargains with him.


Thank you so much for dinner,

Jon says as he stands up.

After you,

he says to me, and as I pass by him, he puts his hand on the small of my back. My first glance isn

t at Jon, but rather at my dad, whose eyes are fixated on Jon

s hand. I turn around and guide him out of the kitchen and downstairs into the basement.


Dad saw that,

I tell him smugly.


Saw what?


You put your hand on my back.


Did I?

He looks remorseful.

Crap,

he whispers as he sits down on the leather couch, putting his head in his hands.


It

s okay. If it really bothered him, he would have called me back in there and told me so.

I sit next to him and pull his hands down so he

ll look at me.


Or he

s saving it all for his general assessment of me. I show up late, dripping wet all over his nice house, gush about things that make it sound like I

m kissing his ass, and then put my hand on
yours
.


Jon,

I plead with him.


Add that to the fact that I come from one of the worst neighborhoods in the city, and I

m sure I

m at the bottom of his list of guys he would want you to go out with.


He invited you to come here,

I remind him.

He

s never invited another guy over here.


Maybe not, but I

m sure he has ideas of guys at your school that he

d rather see you with.


Yes, the nice Catholic boys in my private school. Oh, wait. There are none.


Well, somewhere, then. He

s
well connected
. Isn

t there a senator

s son or something?


Jon, my dad is not a status seeker.


But if he

s a good father, he

d hope for someone better for his daughter.


Whatever!

I argue.

Did you hear yourself at dinner? If even a single wor
d of what you said was sincere,
Jon, you could tell that they

re impressed.


I couldn

t.


Well, I could,

I tell him.


It was all sincere. I can

t believe I just said all that. I feel like an idiot.


You didn

t sound like an idiot. You sounded just like a guy they

d want me to go out with.


Yeah?


Yeah.

He lets out a big sigh.


What kind of movies do you like?

I ask him.


Action,

he tells me.

Suspense, I don

t know.

I pick up the remote and start scanning through our vast digital movie collection.

My god, Livvy, what movies
don

t
you have?

He takes the remote from me and skims through the titles.


Yeah. That

s one thing my dad

s always had a hard time not splurging on.


No parental controls on this thing?


There

s nothing illicit on here,

I laugh.

These are my parents we

re talking about.


The Godfather. Have you seen it?


No,

I tell him.


It

s a classic. It

s incredible. Part II

s even better. Do you think we can watch it?


We can watch anything, Jon. They don

t care. They

re movies.


Okay.

He smiles and presses the play button.


Well, wait, is it R-rated because there

s sex in it?

I ask him quietly, starting to wonder if my parents might care what I watch down here, in the dark, with a guy...
alone
.


It

s a mafia movie. We

re talking language. Violence.


I don

t think they

ll care,

I repeat my response from earlier.

Are your pants dry?

I ask him, feeling a chill in the room. He takes my hand in his and sets it down on his thigh. His slacks are still a little damp. I rub my hand back and forth over his leg quickly, then pull a blanket off the back of the couch and hand it to him. I get my own blanket and cover myself.

He locks his pinky finger with mine and glances over at me, smiling. As loudly as my thoughts are screaming in my head, silently pleading with him, he doesn

t kiss me, but rather sinks into the couch comfortably and settles into watching the movie.

An hour later, myself enthralled with the plot, I move a throw pillow into his lap and lie down on the couch, my head resting on the pillow. He pulls my blanket up over my shoulder but continues to rub my arm lightly. His other hand starts to play with my hair.


You

re so pretty, Livvy,

he whispers to me a few minutes later. I look up at him and smile.

Sit up for a second.


What?

I laugh.


It

s just that my legs are tired,

he tells me.


Oh, I

m sorry.

I quickly sit up and start to stand to rearrange the pillows into a different position. He grabs my arm, pulling me back down onto the couch to sit next to him–
right
next to him. He shifts slightly so he can face me and leans in quickly to kiss me.


My legs aren

t really tired,

he admits as he leans his forehead against mine.

I was just tired of waiting to do that.

I close my eyes again and he puts his hand on my cheek, guiding my lips to his again. I put my hand on his waist, under the warm thermal shirt. He moves again to sit up straight, this time pulling my legs into his lap and putting his arm around my back so he can pull me into him closely. His chest presses against mine. His other hand creeps noticeably up my thigh, his thumb kneading into my muscle firmly. I put my hand on top of his to stop it from going further, but I honestly don

t think he would have. He continues to kiss me, and turns his palm up so we

re holding hands.

The basement lights come on, and we both release each other immediately. Jon turns around to see who

s behind him, and sighs in relief when he realizes we

ve been alone up until now.


It

s okay,

I whisper as I lean back into the couch and turn toward the television. The footsteps descend slowly down the stairs.


Everything okay down here?

my dad asks.


Yep!

I say too quickly, I

m sure. I can feel the heat of my cheeks. I

m blessed with darker skin that masks my embarrassment most of the time, but Jon

s pale skin gives him away as pink splotches spread across his face.


Yes, sir,

he says after clearing his throat.


The Godfather?

Dad asks.


Yeah, I

ve never seen it,

I explain.


Timeless piece of film making,

he says.

The second one

s even better.


That

s exactly what I told her,

Jon says, easing into the conversation without looking at my father.


Liv, Mom wanted to find out if you wanted any popcorn? Sodas?


I

ll take a soda.


I

m fine,

Jon says.

Maybe some water.


Okay. Livvy, do you want to help me with that?

My gaze finally settles on my dad

s, and I know he suspects something was going on. Dad looks at me hard, his expression one of disapproval.

Please?


Sure,

I say as I roll my eyes.


I

ll pause it,

Jon offers, picking up the remote.

I follow my dad up the stairs, even though he and I both know there

s a refrigerator stocked full of beverages in the game room next to my bedroom. This isn

t about refreshments.

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