“What's wrong?” I asked.
“I just want you to watch your backs, because I don't think you've heard the last from my parents. Besides being snobs, they are also vindictive.”
My heart lodged into my throat in response to his warning. What had I done? Dom clearly had no trouble reading my thoughts, “I don't want to scare you, but I don't want you to be blindsided either. My parents are nothing if not predictable.”
“Their interest in Bastian's future isn't really about Bastian, is it?”
“No. They never paid him any attention when he was younger, but now it's all about money and more than the money, image. Both sons refuse to follow in their old man's footsteps. What will people think?”
“Working for your father isn't what Bastian wants to do with his life, either.”
“It doesn't matter to my parents. They never bothered to get to know their son, so they think if they apply just the right amount of pressure, they can bend him to their will.”
“He won't bend.”
“Not willingly. They'll come at you, because to them you are the reason Bastian isn't falling in with their wishes.”
Ominous and exactly what I feared.
“I've never seen my brother so happy and I think he makes you just as happy. Remember that, and remember that my parents only have power if you give it to them.”
“Thanks, Dom.” I watched as he joined Bastian and I was thankful for his words of warning, but I couldn't help the overwhelming belief that his parents held power whether I gave it to them or not.
Later in the night after everyone went home, Bastian and I sat in Alfonso's after we broke down the party.
“This was the best birthday that I've ever had.” Tenderness rang in his voice.
“I still have to give you your present.”
“I thought the party was the present.”
“Only part of the present,” I said.
“You didn't have to get me anything, Lark.”
“I know.” Resting against the back wall was a large rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper. Retrieving it, I offered it to him. “Happy birthday.”
“You really didn't need to do this.”
“I know, but you must admit it's fun to have something to open.”
He grinned. “Ab so-fuckin'-lutely.”
He unwrapped the package to reveal my painting, Mainstream, which I had had framed. He stared at it for so long I worried that maybe I had been wrong about his reaction to the painting that day in the art room. I tried to explain the reasoning behind the gift.
“I thought it could be another visual reminder for you to hold fast to your dreams.”
He moved so fast, lifting from his chair and pulling me into his arms. He buried his face in my hair.
He didn't say anything at first, seemingly lost in his thoughts, but then his head lifted and our gazes lock. The rawness of his voice spoke to the emotions burning through him. “I've never been given anything so incredible.”
“It fits you,” I said.
He touched a lock of my hair and a grin tugged at his mouth, “A little bird told me your birthday is coming up. November 7th, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know.”
“You don't have to do anything. Hanging with you and the gang is enough for me.”
“I'll take that under advisement.”
“Why do I get the sense that you are already plotting?”
He framed my face with his hands, “Because you know me so well. Thank you for tonight and for your painting. I really do love it.”
“Happy birthday.”
He responded by kissing me.
***
The smell of oatmeal raisin cookies drew me into the kitchen to find Deena and Carol making a huge mess. Lucky for me, they were just pulling a tray from the oven. I adored their oatmeal raisin cookies.
Carol saw me first and smiled in greeting. “Hey, Lark. You're just in time.”
“What's the occasion?” I asked while settling on a stool at the kitchen island.
“Cheerleading social,” Deena said.
“Where's Aunt Kim?”
“My uniform's a little too big, so she's taking it in for me.”
Not sure why that hurt, but it did. “Oh.”
“There's plenty of cookies, do you want some?”
“Please.”
As I was reaching for a cookie, Carol asked, “Is that boy who picks you up in the morning your boyfriend?”
My face grew warm at the joy of sharing such a girl moment with my cousins. “Yes, he's my boyfriend.”
“Oh, Lark. He's so beautiful,” Deena said dreamily. “What's his name?”
“Bastian.”
“And he drives a motorcycle, that's so sexy.” Carol climbed onto the stool next to me and added, “Are those tattoos on his arms real?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, I bet that hurt.” Deena took a bite from her cookie. “What's he like?”
“He plays soccer and likes to work on cars. He's smart and funny. Kind, like down-to-the-bone kind.” A glance at the girls made it clear they wanted more. “He makes my knees weak and my heart pound. When he kisses me, I never want him to stop.”
“Oh, man.” Deena sounded dangerously close to whining. “You're in love with him.”
“I really am.”
“And him?” Carol asked.
“Fell just as hard.”
“You're so lucky,” they said in unison and Carol added, “I wish I had a boy like that. Mom would never approve.”
An icy chill worked down my spine and I glanced behind me to see Aunt Kim standing in the doorway. She clutched Deena's uniform so tightly her knuckles were turning white.
“Lark, you must have homework to do. Go do it. Girls, let's clean this up so we can start dinner.”
My attention turned back to the girls, “Thanks for the cookie. Those are my fave.”
“Anytime, Lark,” Carol said, but I was already halfway out of the room.
The look my aunt gave me as I passed had the hair on my arms standing on end. Not sure what it was I did this time, but I felt her glare until I was out of sight.
Chapter Eight
The following weekend I helped Bastian move into his apartment. His landlord had been reluctant at first to rent to a teenager—feared the noise and potential trouble Bastian may cause in their quiet building. His attitude shifted though when Bastian handed him the first and last months’ rent plus security deposit in cash. It was unclear if the landlord's change of heart was due to learning Bastian held a job that paid enough for him to afford the apartment, or if it was just that the payment was in cash. Having a trust fund certainly came in handy.
His new place was both close to school and the garage where he worked. The second floor, two-bedroom-one-bath unit seemed really cozy. He even had a fireplace and I couldn't wait for winter to curl up with him in front of it. A pang of sadness shot through me that his parents couldn't see the gift that they had in him. Never knowing my dad and losing my mom when I was so young, to see parents willingly and intentionally neglecting their child was both inconceivable and heartbreaking. Today was a good day for him, so I turned my thoughts to pleasant ones.
He had ordered a sofa, a bed and a television, so the day we were unpacking his boxes, the delivery trucks came one after another. Once we had most of his stuff unpacked, he ordered a pizza. After we ate, we relaxed on his new sofa.
“There's one more thing I want to do,” he said rather cryptically before he moved from the sofa and disappeared into the second bedroom. He came back into the living room holding my painting, a hammer and a picture hook. “I want to put it on that wall so I can see it when I'm sitting here.”
I was overwhelmed at the sight of him doing something so commonplace. He wasn't just hanging my painting. He was moving me into his apartment too. He confirmed this when he said, “You're turning eighteen. The door's open any time you want to move in.”
My blood actually sizzled in my veins just thinking about moving in with him and where that would lead. The most wickedly sexy look flashed over Bastian's face. Clearly he was thinking the same thing. “I absolutely want you in my bed but until you're ready, there is a second bedroom.”