Read Online Sweet: (Intermix) (True Believers) by Erin McCarthy - Free Book Online
Authors: Erin McCarthy
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to. “I meant Tyler, Jayden, and Easton.”
“You’re really annoying.”
“And you’re stupidly stubborn. It’s like you’re determined to be miserable.”
“What do you know about miserable, princess? What do you know about having your mother stoned out of her mind nailing you in the head with a frying pan, huh? What do you know about walking in and seeing your eight-year-old brother eating moldy bread and drinking spoiled milk?”
“Nothing,” I said, frustrated with him. Frustrated that he didn’t respond to me the way other guys did. Why couldn’t he just accept that I was trying to be nice? Why did no one think I was capable of being nice and then when I was it was rejected? “But when Rory comes over here and bakes cookies, does it make you mad?”
“No.”
“Do the boys like it?”
He bit his fingernail and looked at the floor. “Of course they like it. They’re cookies.”
“So what’s the big deal about a little home improvement? I promise it won’t be girly. It will look like four dudes live here.”
There was an enormous pause, and I waited in anxious anticipation. This was important to me, for whatever reason.
“Fine. For the boys.” His jaw worked, but he even managed to say, “Thanks.”
I grinned, relieved that he had given in. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m going to need your help. I have no freaking clue how to paint a room.”
He snorted. “So your gift is causing work for me?”
Oopsie. It was a bit of a Kylie move. “It will be worth it,” I promised. “I just need some advice, not actual man power. Though I’m determined to spend as little as possible, so I might need some minor construction help now that I think about it.” I gave him a pleading look. “Please?”
Riley shook his head. “Unbelievable. I swear, you’d test the patience of a saint.”
“If not a saint, definitely I test the patience of a preacher. Just ask my dad.”
“Your father is a preacher?”
“Yes.” It had to come out sooner or later, so I figured I should just get it over with. Let the jokes begin.
But Riley just nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that I can see now why you might not want to go home for the summer. It’s probably tough to deal with all those expectations. You have to be a good girl, right?”
Suspicious, I nodded. This wasn’t the normal reaction I got. Usually guys made cracks about preachers’ daughters being the most fun and how if you had sex with one it made you closer to God. The usual crude and stupid comments.
“You don’t think I’m a good girl, do you?” I asked, already knowing the answer. No one really thought I was a good girl, even though I didn’t think I was a bad girl. Where was the label for the morally ambiguous? Nothing I ever did hurt anyone else, but I can’t say I was contributing a whole lot to the greater good of mankind. But I figured that could wait until I was on my own, when I wasn’t walking this fine line of pleasing my parents while still having enough space to breathe.
Riley handed me his half-finished beer, confusing me. But before I could ask why, he looked me in the eye and said, “Jess, I’ve got no business judging anyone. But I can offer you some advice if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” Though my palms started to sweat anticipating what he might say.
“Never ask someone to tell you who you are. You tell them.”
The irony was, I had thought I was doing that when I’d come to college, but I realized Riley was right. My message of who I was wasn’t clear to anyone, not even to me. A hot taste of dissatisfaction filled my mouth. “Yeah, I get that. But it’s not so easy with my dad.”
“I’m sure it’s not. But you’re on your own now, right?”
I nodded and took a sip of the beer. “I’m drinking this.”
“That’s why I gave it to you. And if you want to offer me advice right back, here’s your chance. I opened the door.”
He leaned
“You’re really annoying.”
“And you’re stupidly stubborn. It’s like you’re determined to be miserable.”
“What do you know about miserable, princess? What do you know about having your mother stoned out of her mind nailing you in the head with a frying pan, huh? What do you know about walking in and seeing your eight-year-old brother eating moldy bread and drinking spoiled milk?”
“Nothing,” I said, frustrated with him. Frustrated that he didn’t respond to me the way other guys did. Why couldn’t he just accept that I was trying to be nice? Why did no one think I was capable of being nice and then when I was it was rejected? “But when Rory comes over here and bakes cookies, does it make you mad?”
“No.”
“Do the boys like it?”
He bit his fingernail and looked at the floor. “Of course they like it. They’re cookies.”
“So what’s the big deal about a little home improvement? I promise it won’t be girly. It will look like four dudes live here.”
There was an enormous pause, and I waited in anxious anticipation. This was important to me, for whatever reason.
“Fine. For the boys.” His jaw worked, but he even managed to say, “Thanks.”
I grinned, relieved that he had given in. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m going to need your help. I have no freaking clue how to paint a room.”
He snorted. “So your gift is causing work for me?”
Oopsie. It was a bit of a Kylie move. “It will be worth it,” I promised. “I just need some advice, not actual man power. Though I’m determined to spend as little as possible, so I might need some minor construction help now that I think about it.” I gave him a pleading look. “Please?”
Riley shook his head. “Unbelievable. I swear, you’d test the patience of a saint.”
“If not a saint, definitely I test the patience of a preacher. Just ask my dad.”
“Your father is a preacher?”
“Yes.” It had to come out sooner or later, so I figured I should just get it over with. Let the jokes begin.
But Riley just nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that I can see now why you might not want to go home for the summer. It’s probably tough to deal with all those expectations. You have to be a good girl, right?”
Suspicious, I nodded. This wasn’t the normal reaction I got. Usually guys made cracks about preachers’ daughters being the most fun and how if you had sex with one it made you closer to God. The usual crude and stupid comments.
“You don’t think I’m a good girl, do you?” I asked, already knowing the answer. No one really thought I was a good girl, even though I didn’t think I was a bad girl. Where was the label for the morally ambiguous? Nothing I ever did hurt anyone else, but I can’t say I was contributing a whole lot to the greater good of mankind. But I figured that could wait until I was on my own, when I wasn’t walking this fine line of pleasing my parents while still having enough space to breathe.
Riley handed me his half-finished beer, confusing me. But before I could ask why, he looked me in the eye and said, “Jess, I’ve got no business judging anyone. But I can offer you some advice if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” Though my palms started to sweat anticipating what he might say.
“Never ask someone to tell you who you are. You tell them.”
The irony was, I had thought I was doing that when I’d come to college, but I realized Riley was right. My message of who I was wasn’t clear to anyone, not even to me. A hot taste of dissatisfaction filled my mouth. “Yeah, I get that. But it’s not so easy with my dad.”
“I’m sure it’s not. But you’re on your own now, right?”
I nodded and took a sip of the beer. “I’m drinking this.”
“That’s why I gave it to you. And if you want to offer me advice right back, here’s your chance. I opened the door.”
He leaned
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