Nothing Matters (Family Matters Book 1) (7 page)

"I love you Nathan Stratton," she declares, and drives off with a toot of her horn.

Mom asks where I've been when I come back into the kitchen.  "Just been talking," I say casually, but my hand automatically goes to my jeans, checking that I did zip up.  I know Mom notices.  Nan's sitting at the table, drinking a cup of tea.  "Do you like her Nan?" I ask, sitting down next to her.

"She's beautiful," Nan says, "she's a lovely girl.  And I can see you love her."

"I'm mad about her," I say, my eyes dart to Mom's, almost in defiance.

Nan chuckles.  "That's how your Grandpa was about me.  He couldn't keep his hands off me."

I laugh.  My Grandpa died over five years ago, suddenly from a heart attack.  He'd been pruning some bushes in the garden and collapsed, but he had been 72.

"She's only young," Mom chimes in, "only sixteen.  And from Beverly."  Why she says that, I don't know.

"There's no need to rush these days," Nan says, "you have plenty of time.  Get to know each other.  It's important that you can talk to each other."

"Good advice," my mother says, giving me a bold stare.

I get up.  "Do you need a ride home Nan?" I ask.

"Thanks, but Bryan's going to take me.  I want him to look at a window latch."  I say goodbye and go and watch tv. 

A text come through from Magdala:  miss u already, your mom and nan are cool. 

I text back:  want u, love u. 

And already my heart is yearning for her, wanting her non-stop, she's like an obsession, all I want, all I crave is to be with her all the time.

That same week, on a Tuesday when Ben and I are at basketball, Magdala drops by home thinking I'll be there.  When we arrive, Magdala's in the kitchen making mango smoothies.  I'm thinking What the fuck, but Magdala is showing Mom how to cube a mango and Mom has no option but to watch and learn.  Michelle is copying too. It almost feels like a comedy skit.

I come up behind Magdala, put my arms around her waist.  "What's going on here?"

"I forgot you had training," she says, "but I'm just showing your Mom how to make smoothies, because they can go off quite quickly."  She means the mangoes.

Mom gives me a wry smile as she puts the mango into the blender.  Magdala adds banana slices and milk and Michelle pushes the button.  It's like a fucking production line.  I can't help but laugh. 

Magdala turns, "What's so funny?" she asks.

"Nothing," I say, bending to kiss her.  We each have a smoothie, which even Mom admits to being delicious, but I can see she is calculating the amount of milk used and wondering if there will be enough for tomorrow's breakfast.  She stresses about the smallest things.

"What did you actually come round for?" I eventually ask Magdala, wondering if she left something here.  We don't usually see each other on a week night.

"Um," she laughs, "um, I don't remember."  But when we go into my room, she pushes me onto the bed and says, "This is why I came around.  To ride in the Ferrari bed."

Chapter 3

MAGDALA

Antonia asks me to babysit the kids on Saturday night.  First of all I pout and say, "Why can't Cassian do it?"  She says she has already asked him, but he has plans.  Great, I think, now I'm  only second choice.  She says her and Dad have a dinner and awards night to go to, I don't even ask what awards night, I don't care that much.  I ask if Nathan can come over.  She says, "Ask your father."

I catch Dad at his work station, he's sketching on some paper, but has two screens open as well.  Dad is a graphic designer and does freelance work, in television and movies, but he also does work for my Uncle Blaise's advertising agency.  Plus he does voiceover work.  I pretend to be interested in what he's doing but then I just jump right in and say it.  "Antonia wants me to babysit on Saturday, but I sort of have plans with Nathan, so could he come and stay on Saturday night while I babysit."  I say it so fast that I hope he doesn't listen properly and will just nod and say yes.

He stops drawing and says, "Did you just say you want Nathan to stay the night?" Damn, he is listening.  I bite my lower lip and sheepishly nod.  "I haven't even met him," he says.

"Haven't you?" I feign disbelief.  "Oh well it will be a good time to introduce you."  I give him a smile. 

"Tell me about him," Dad says, surprising me just a little.

"What do you want to know?" I ask confidently, and stand right close to him.

"Well, all I know is that he's from West.  Other than that, nothing."

"Yeah, he's from West, he's a junior, he likes basketball and he loves me," I say.

Dad raises his eyebrows.  "And I love him," I add, and lean into Dad, who is sitting on a high stool.  Dad has to put an arm around me to steady us, otherwise he'd topple off the seat.

"Why does he need to stay the night?" Dad asks, "hasn't he got a car?"  Dad knows he has a car, so I'm thinking he's having a joke with me. 

"He'll have work the next morning, so it will be easier for him to stay and then just go straight to work," I explain, hoping he gets my logic.

"Where does he work?" Dad asks.  I tell him the name of the auto parts store.

Dad rubs his chin and frowns, "I don't know, princess, I'm not totally happy with it."

Anger takes over and I get snippy, "You know I've stayed at his house before?"

Dad nods knowingly, "I'm aware."

"Well, isn't it better if you know where I am, and after all I'm doing you and Antonia a favor," I say, snappily, and take a step away.

"Hey, hey," he tries to calm me, "don't get angry."  He puts his arm out and pulls me back towards him.  "It's just that you've only been going out a few weeks."

"Like six," I interrupt.  "Six weeks."  Though it has actually only been five.

"I don't want to see you rush into anything and get hurt," he says, rubbing my shoulder.

"Well it's too late then, because I've already rushed in," I say, frustrated.  "And why does everyone think I'm going to get hurt?  Jakey's saying the same thing."

"Because we're all looking out for you," he says.  And he pulls me in close, hugs me.  "I'm not trying to be the bad guy, Magdala, I'm trying to be a good Dad."

I pout at him, it usually works.  "If you met him," I whine, "you'd see how much he loves me, and he'll never hurt me."  I pull away.  "Just this once, please," I say, "otherwise I'll be here alone seeing Cash is going out.  And if you guys are late back, it's not fair if I make him drive home, he might already be asleep."  It sounds like a good argument to me.

"I'll check with Antonia," he relents.

"She already said to ask you," I say.

He lets out a sigh.  "Okay then, just this time," he says, like he knows he's lost. 

I smile and hug him tighter, "Thanks Daddy, I love you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he says smiling and the victory is mine.

I'd never had Stacey come and stay over, well there was no need, he had that apartment all to himself.  I think because Stacey was my first relationship, I just let him dictate, just went along with everything he suggested, just followed.  I was probably like a little puppy lapping up to its owner, tongue hanging out, ready to do whatever I was told.  He had all the experience, I knew nothing.  I cringe at how naive I'd been.  Dad and Antonia had only met Stacey once, when he came to pick me up after the whole sleeping over fiasco.  Stacey had turned on the charm big time, and in retrospect, that's when my inner radar should have zoned in, but I was too blind, too infatuated by his good looks.  And I think because both Jakey and Cassian knew him, Dad had been less concerned than if he had been a complete unknown.

I never think of Stacey now.  It hadn't been hard to switch off from him, and only now I know that it had never been real love.  Maybe, probably just pretend love.  When it's your first relationship, how do you even know.  Every feeling, every emotion is new, so you assume it's the real deal.  I wonder if that's why Jakey dates so much, he plays the field, never hangs around with one girl for too long.  As for Cash, he says he's never met anyone he's really been interested in, but it doesn't seem to bother him.  There is no shortage of girls who want to go out with him, but he never dates. Aunt Kate tells him his time will come, so does Antonia. 

With Nathan, I know it's the real deal.  I just do.  I feel something deep inside, some connection, that thing that drew us together when we first saw each other.  If there was ever a love at first sight moment, we were it.  I love everything about him.  I love that he's not perfect looking, that he's a bit rough and ready. I love that he touches me all the time, but he's not sickly sweet and he doesn't shower me with gifts or think he has to spend money on me.  In fact, he's never given me a gift.  I love that he makes me laugh, and then laughs because he thinks I'm funny.  I love that he's honest and is just himself.  He doesn't try to impress me or pretend to be someone he's not.  And I love that he treats me as if I'm the most important person in his world.  To be that special to someone is the best feeling.

NATHAN

I end up meeting Magdala's family that weekend, because she has to babysit her younger brother and sister, so she asks me to come over.  As it is, we spend an hour down at the mall after I finish work, and then we arrive at her place just after seven.  Her Dad shakes my hand when she introduces us, and I wish I'd dressed better than a plain $5 t-shirt and ripped jeans.  Her Dad is tall, like six three and I can see Magdala has his eyes, but Cassian has his hair.  He has some old tattoos on his forearms and his voice is really husky, croaky.  Magdala says he's had throat cancer and it changed his voice.  Now he does some work in television and movies doing voice overs, generally for cartoon villains, she had laughed but now I know what she means. Her Dad asks me some general stuff, how's school going, basketball.  He doesn't seem to pay me too much attention, doesn't appear to be sizing me up.  He doesn't ask about my parents' jobs and income.  He seems laid back, casual, I think I like him.

She shows me around the place and then we sit in a lounge where her half-siblings are watching tv.  Damon and Dominique are already in their pajamas, have already eaten dinner.  Antonia, her stepmother, appears all dressed up.  Magdala introduces us.  She smiles at me and I feel like a complete hick in my scruffy clothes.  She is very glamorous, looks like she could be on the red carpet.  She's in a purple strapless dress, high, high heels and her brown hair hangs in curls.  She looks younger, way younger than she is.  I know for a fact that Mom is only a couple of years older than her, but hey, I can never imagine Mom looking like this.  Her father reappears, now in a suit, looking handsome, but slightly uncomfortable in it.  Antonia fusses over his hair and tie and her Dad rolls his eyes.  He goes up to the little kids, kissing and hugging them, and Magdala says, "Where's Cash?"

"In his room I think," her Dad replies.

"What time will you be home?" she asks.

Antonia answers, while she hugs the little ones, "Might be late, after one."

Her Dad rolls his eyes again.  Antonia gives Magdala last minute instructions, teeth to be cleaned, stories to be read, bed at eight, lasagne for us in the oven, salad in the fridge.

"We'll be fine," Magdala assures them, "just go!"  I love the way she talks to them so openly, so easily, I get a good vibe from their interaction.  And I realize I haven't felt out of place, other than my clothing, that all families work pretty much the same.  When they leave we go and eat dinner, and Cassian joins us.  He's done his hair, and is dressed in skinny jeans and a shirt and it surprises me when Magdala says he doesn't have a girlfriend.  Cassian is Magdala's half brother, she told me his mother died when he was born.  That saddened me, to think he never knew his mother.  And it surprised me, knowing they are less than a year apart in age, that their father must have moved on pretty quickly.

“Where are you going?”Magdala asks.

“Just to Devon’s,” he says, “what are you doing?”

She shrugs, smiles, says, “Nothing much.  Just hanging out.”  She glances at me with a cheeky look on her face, and Cassian notices, but looks at me with a passive face, and I feel embarrassed.  Cassian puts more salad on his plate and offers me some.  I help myself, murmuring a thank you.  He takes a drink of water, his phone rings and he answers it, leans back in his chair but turns to the side. For some reason I watch him, noting how good looking he, how stylish he is, so relaxed.  He talks, laughs, talks some more, looking over his shoulder at Magdala.  I think I feel some boy envy, like if I could be so cool.  Magdala says he's a good tennis player, that he practises everyday.  It looks like he goes to the gym as well, his arms make mine look like sticks. Laughs again, and I notice his pierced tongue, which seems unusual to me, so I wonder if he might be gay, he doesn't seem it, but what do I know.  He hangs up and Magdala says, “Who was that?”

“Devon,” he says, “wanting to know if you were coming.”

“He did not,” she retorts.

“Told him you have other plans,” he laughs.  She punches him in the arm, saying, “I'm going to take the kids to bed.”  She comes to me.  “I won't be long,” she says and kisses my cheek.  Without thinking I kiss her back on the lips and then I feel embarrassed with Cassian watching.  A few minutes later the little kids come in and hug Cassian goodnight, wave to me, then can be heard running up the stairs. I feel slightly nervous being alone with him, but he starts talking, basketball first, then other sports, then school and it's almost like we are friends. Shortly Magdala returns and she comes and stands behind my chair, her hands on my shoulders, then lower to my chest.  Her touch electrifies me.  I reach my own hand to cover her right hand, entwining them.

"When are you going?" she asks Cassian. 

He grins as he looks at her, says, "I'll just clean up here."  He rises, stacks our finished plates, looks at me and says, "Are you staying over?"

I start to say, "No, I don't -," but Magdala cuts me off with a sharp, "Yes he is.  I already asked Dad."  Cassian's eyes widen, as if in surprise.  And she runs her spare hand around the back of my neck.   I stand up, face her, my confidence high, that of a kid knowing he's about to get some action.  I kiss her again.

"Come back and hang out with us if you get bored," Magdala says to Cassian, and he just acknowledges us with an eyebrow raise and we walk out to her room, which is just past the lounge.  She rushes up the stairs to check on the kids, and I look around her room, which is probably twice the size of my bedroom.  It has a walk-in closet and an ensuite.  It's feminine, but not too girly, the duvet a crisp white cover with a pink rose design.  She has too many cushions and pillows stacked on the bed and several teddy bears.  She comes back and reaches her hands around my neck, kissing me.  My hands squeeze her ass, she walks me over to her bed, lips still locked, and falls down onto the bed.  Our lips momentarily part, but then resume kissing.  My left hand fiddles with the button on her denim shorts, and then the button fly.  She squirms as I pull them and her panties off together and she shakes her feet to unhook them from her ankles.  I shift her further onto the bed, my hands around her belly, my lips moving onto her belly button, and lower.  My tongue explores.  She lets out a gasp, then a moan.  My tongue darts around, another satisfied moan from her, I must be doing something right.  My fingers probe now, touching, feeling, entering.  She seems to like it.  She feels wet, ready; I know I am.  I undo my jeans as quickly as I can, and before I know it I'm inside her, one of her legs awkwardly wrapped around me.  It feels frantic, urgent, exciting, almost forbidden, as if it's wrong to be doing it in her house, as if her parents could return at any minute.  We lay there for a minute or two, recovering, and then I move ourselves to the centre of the bed, tossing away half the cushions and removing my t-shirt.  I feel a release of my inhibitions, a new found freedom, from not having to worry about knocking myself on the top of the bunkbed, of not having to move quietly so the mattress doesn't squeak, of not having to muffle any sounds of pleasure.

I move over her again, my confidence soaring, trailing kisses down her body, covering every inch of her body.  I go low again, adventurous, my mouth wanting to taste her again, wanting to please her.  I feel her stomach muscles tense, again and again, her body arching, her face contorting, her breathing quickening, pleading, begging me.  Her fingernails clutch at my shoulders and there's only pleasure when she scratches me, digs into me as if clinging for dear life.  As if I am her savior.