Page 13 of Secrets That Bind Us

Verity

Age Seventeen

I check myself in the full-length mirror in the corner of my room one last time:

White Vans: check

Flowery sundress I bought at the secondhand store in town: check

Minimal makeup so Daddy doesn’t notice: check

Best friend gushing that I’m going on an actual date with Dean Carson: check, check

“You look so good, Ver. Do you know where he’s taking you?” Zoey asks from where she’s perched on my bed, flipping through the pages of the issue of Seventeen she brought over.

I shake my head, going to my closet for my denim jacket, because this dress just says, ‘please stare at my chest all night.’ Which is not what I want, but I kind of do want, because I want Dean Carson to like me– but not because I’m flashing my tits.

I don’t know. This is all confusing. I want him to like me for my brain but I also want him to find me attractive.

I try to swallow down my insecurities, but I don’t look anything like Tiffany.

I wish I was three inches taller or blonde.

I wish Mama could afford to get me contacts. I wish a lot of things were different.

But it’s like Mama always says, ‘If only wishes and dreams were peaches and cream, then the hungry could eat.’

“He said it was a surprise.”

Zoey exhales, putting away the magazine and scooting down to the edge of my bed. “You have to tell me everything . You have your RAZR charged?”

“Yeah.” I say, shoving it into my purse, which I then shove into my backpack because our cover is, we’re having study group dinner with friends and then I’m staying the night with Zoey.

She’ll drop me off at church in the morning since she has her big brother's old Jeep Wrangler now and officially has her license.

The truth is, I really am having dinner, but with Dean, before going to another place he hasn’t told me about. And she’s going to a bonfire with Evan, where we’ll meet up around midnight. Afterwards, we really will go to sleep at Zoey’s, and she really will drop me off at church in the morning.

I've somehow turned into an honest rebel. Little white lies for adrenaline spiked kisses. I mean, Dean wouldn’t kiss me the way he does if he didn’t like me like me, right?

My heart sinks a little at all the reminders of him and Tiffany making out in the halls and all the…

stories from the parties. I shouldn’t go.

This is a bad idea. I don’t want to be another story around this town.

“Oh no. I know that look. Verity Huntington, you are not changing your mind right now. Let’s go .” Zoey tugs me out my bedroom door before I can even begin to protest. The only thing I’m able to grab at is my softball bat I leave just outside my bedroom door.

“Ugh! Zoey!”

She stops pulling at me and I let my bat go.

It hits the corner of the wall with a barely a tiny thud , back in its spot.

“No, Ver, I’m so serious. You can’t sit around in here every weekend until we graduate.

Have some adventure, Verity. We’re seventeen!

We should be making mistakes right now so we have cool stories to tell our grandkids when they think we’re lame. ”

“I dunno, Zo. It’s making me feel weird inside. Maybe I have to puke. What if my dad finds out?”

Her hazel gaze goes soft on me. “If at any point in time you feel like you’re in a bad situation and you have to go, call me. I’ll have my phone on loud and I’ll pick you up. Okay?”

I dip my chin once. “Okay.”

We go downstairs where Mama’s patiently waiting, a twinkle in her eyes and she looks at me with a knowing smile.

Daddy’s on his recliner, watching sports on the TV sipping a non-alcoholic beer.

He’s been doing better since Mama’s eye took a total of three weeks to heal.

He grimaced every day he looked at her. I knew he felt shame having Dean over for dinner almost every night.

His eyes narrow as soon as we get to the bottom step. “Where’re y’all goin’?”

“Study session, Daddy, remember? Then I’m spending the night at Zoey’s, and I’ll meet y’all at church tomorrow morning.

” I look over at Mama to make sure she’s still okay with it, too.

I begged her to call me if she needed me at all.

For anything. I told her I’d race right home. Even if I had to use the foot-mobile.

Daddy squints his eyes like he’s trying to remember. Truth is, I don’t think he retains much of anything anymore. But instead of arguing he’ll say - “Oh, right. Okay, you girls have fun.”

“Will do, Mr. Huntington.”

“Bye Daddy. Bye Mama.”

“Bye girls,” she singsongs and I feel guilty for lying to her.

I feel worse leaving her here. But Daddy’s been…

nice lately. Even cleaned up some. I have a feeling that having the sheriff’s son around has a lot to do with that.

I really want Dean to like me for me. Because maybe he’ll stick around.

Maybe Dean could be the son Daddy always wanted.

I help on the farm as much as I can – feeding the cows and chickens every morning- but not much of anything else since our crops are sunflowers, and that requires big machines.

Once we’re in the Jeep and make the trek to town, Zoey drops me off in the town square where Dean is waiting for me on a bench just outside of City Hall.

And wow. He dressed up for me. He’s wearing a black button-down, bootcut jeans, black K-Swiss sneaks, and a black diamond stud in each ear.

It’s been a week of us kissing but when he walks up to me and plants one on me, my toes curl and my belly swoops and swirls.

Even when he pulls away to tell me how beautiful I look and takes my hand, leading me to the little Italian bistro, I can still feel his lips on mine.

I always feel his touch lingering like phantom caresses on my flesh. I wonder if I do the same to him? Should I touch him more? I want to touch him more . Everywhere. The thought makes me blush and I duck my head a little.

Once we’re seated in a booth on opposite sides, he gets up and sits with me instead, so he can hold my hand under the table- like he does at lunch now, or in the hallways, or in the library.

Dean pretty much always holds my hand. Or plays with my hair while we study.

If my hair is up, he tugs off the elastic, letting it tumble around my shoulders.

He’s always touching me, actually – like he’s making sure I’m real.

I really like that. He’s intense sometimes.

Always staring. I don’t know if that’s normal or not, but Dean makes me feel…

safe. Even when he makes me feel like I’m goin’ crazy.

I feel like I’m allowed to just be me. If I want to read, he asks me to read to him.

He asked me to teach him how to two-step.

He helps Mama when she needs it. He’s everywhere .

I don’t have a moment’s peace– away from him or in his presence.

It feels like my body is constantly humming.

Like little electrical currents all over my skin.

I never want it to stop.

When our waitress swings by with a smile to grab our drink orders, I stiffen when I see it’s Emory.

We both order water. Dean goes ahead and orders my favorite dish: the baked shrimp scampi, and he orders himself the lasagna.

I tell him Mama’s is better. He winks at me, telling me he’ll suggest it next time so he can try it.

Let’s be honest, the charming Dean Carson has done just that – charmed my mama by always having a second helping of whatever she makes.

So we both know if he suggests anything, she’ll make it for him.

I kinda like that. A lot of the time during our study sessions, we’ll pause to go down to help her cook and set the table. Dean is always laughing with Mama, and it makes me happy. Like he just fits right in with me and her.

Our drinks and Caesar salads come first. Emory, probably due to being on the clock, serves us politely.

“So tell me about this book. Are you gonna let me read it?”

I blush. “Absolutely not. It’s a rough draft. Plus, you probably wouldn’t find it very interesting. It’s very… The Hobbit meets Harry Potter meets Dracula.”

His eyes glitter when he smiles at me – like an ocean when the sun is high in the sky. “What a coincidence. I love all those things.”

I almost choke on a crouton. “You do not.”

He takes my cherry tomatoes and cuts them up for me, knowing I like the way they tase, I just don’t like the way they burst. He only puts half of them back on my plate, taking the other half for himself and gives me a few of his croutons.

“Sure I do. I’m guessing there’s dragons, fairies, and vampires in this book?”

I nod.

“So go on, tell me.” He pushes, taking another bite.

I inhale. “Okay, so there’s this girl that’s sent to a remote college on an island after losing her parents-“

Emory comes to place more drinks in front of us and takes our empty glasses.

Dean pays her no mind, blue eyes steady on me, and I want to squirm in my seat.

He always makes me feel so… discombobulated.

But I like that feeling, too… when it comes to him.

I like his intensity. I like the way he looks and smells.

And he makes me feel so… worthy . Like I matter.

Like all the good things can happen just by being at his side.

“Go on, baby. I’m listening.”

See?

“She finds out it’s a school for the ‘gifted.’ Vampires, fae, witches, shifters - you name it.

They go there to enhance their abilities and train,” I reach out to get my new glass but spot Emory tending to another table, using a pitcher of water to refill their empty glasses – she didn’t take theirs to the back like she did ours.

A gross feeling settles over me and my stomach sinks, which causes me to look at my freshly filled one.

I want to vomit.