Shift

21

“Do I get to see your dresses?” my mom asks as Bailey and I clamber into the house with bags on our arms.

It’s a family di

“I suppose so,” I say. Everything about my tone is fake, and my mom can see right through it. Our eyes meet and her brow draws in with apology. If she were truly sorry, she would admit she and my dad were wrong to react the way they did in the first place.

“I know you’ll be shocked to see this, but . . . I went with pink,” I say, revealing my dress with a flourish as I pull it from the bag.

“Oh, that’s . . .” My mom trails off, wiping her hands clean on a towel so she can touch the delicate skirt fabric.

“I know, it’s short. But I swear it covers everything,” I say before she can ask.

She flits her gaze to me and plasters on her fake, I’m-a-cool-parent grin.

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Her sing-songy tone says otherwise. “I was going to say beautiful fabric.”

She runs her hand through the draped skirting again, and her smile softens. This is supposed to be one of those cherished moments between mother and daughter. I won’t ruin it if she won’t.

“I really love the color,” I say, holding the dress to my body and stretching out the side. It’s an empire waist cocktail style dress made of a gauzy champagne pink silk accented with delicate beadwork near the bodice. Thin straps crisscross along the open back, and Bailey managed to find me strappy heels that match it perfectly.

“Show her yours, Bailey,” I say, wanting to put mine away before Dad walks in and says something to ruin this moment.

I leave Bailey in the kitchen with my mom and head up to my room to stash my dress deep in my closet. It’s not that I’m hiding it, but I don’t want there to be an accidental viewing by my brother or Dustin, assuming he enters this house again anytime soon.

As if the universe is spying on my thoughts, though, the familiar growl of Dustin’s car fills my driveway. I rush to my window and push open my shutters, shocked to see the Supra roaring up behind Tommy’s car. With two new tires. Maybe we’ll get to hit the Straights tomorrow night after all.

I skip down the stairs and pass my mom and Bailey on my way outside, practically leaping across the driveway and into Dustin’s arms as he steps out of his car, a confident grin on his face. He holds me about a foot in the air, then lets me slide down the length of his chest and into his embrace, rocking me side to side as he plants a kiss on top of my head.

“Well, that’s a pretty great greeting. Not sure what I did to deserve this.” He laughs.

“Never going to get used to that,” Tommy says, holding up a palm to block his view of us as he walks by. He’s teasing, and it warms my heart to see my brother coming around to the idea of Dustin and me as a couple.

“Are you staying for di

“Oh, uhm.” He pauses, his lips tight. He shoots a gaze to Tommy and I look to my brother as well.

“Dude, I want no part of this decision.” My brother holds his hands up and wanders to the other side of Dustin’s car, kneeling down to look at the tires.

I wait for Dustin to drop his gaze back to me; I sense his worry and hesitation in the tightness of his jaw.

“Please?” I ask, drawing my hands to the center of his chest and bunching his shirt in my palms.

“Oh, man. I mean, what’s one more round of ego-pounding with your dad, I guess,” he relents, and though it makes me a little sad to hear him put it that way, I’m glad he’s staying. It wouldn’t be a family di

Not wanting to spar with my dad too early, Dustin takes a step back to put distance between us when he catches a view of my dad’s truck making the turn down our street. I decide not to push things either and fall back a few steps so I’m standing closer to my brother than my boyfriend.

My dad’s focus remains straight ahead as he navigates his way up the driveway, parking between our cars and the house. He takes extra time getting out of the truck, wrestling with his cooler in the passenger seat and sorting through something in his center console. When he’s out of distractions, he finally gets out of his vehicle. His shoulders lift and fall in a big exhale before he turns around. Unlike my mom, Dad doesn’t have the ability to fake his emotions. It’s clear from the stiff jawline and straight-lined mouth that he’s not looking forward to interacting with any of us. With the way I left this morning, I guess I’m the last person he really wants to see. But my dad has never been the type to ignore elephants in rooms. And that’s what Dustin and I are—one big-ass elephant.

“Gentlemen,” my dad says, nodding in the general direction of Dustin.

“Ha

That’s his greeting for me, along with a quick glance in my direction.

“You, uh, staying for di

“If that’s all right. I’d like to, Mr. Judge.”

It kills me to hear Dustin sound so formal with my dad. He shouldn’t have to.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s family di

“You see the new treads?” Tommy finally pipes up, changing the subject to one the three of them are always comfortable with—cars.

“An upgrade, huh?” my dad says, moving closer to the back passenger side. He gives it the preverbal kick then squats down to admire them closer. “You went with the Mickey Thompsons. Pretty sweet.”

For a tiny slip, my dad is being genuine.

“Yeah, I’m swapping out the front two tomorrow,” Dustin says, kicking the worn front tire near him.

My dad stands, nodding and admiring the rubber. He pops his head up suddenly, meeting Dustin’s gaze, and there’s a shift in his mood. His brows draw in and his lips part but hang open, as if he’s carefully choosing his words.

“Those aren’t cheap,” he finally settles on.

My dad knows Dustin races for money. Hell, that’s part of the culture in this town, and my dad raced on the Straights back when he and Mom were in high school. But it’s never been big money out there, not the kind that can front Mickey Thompson radials.

“Yeah, good thing someone taught me how to save,” Dustin says, his delivery convincing enough to appease my dad. For now.

“Tommy could learn a thing or two about saving,” my dad teases, patting my brother’s chest as he turns. Tommy overexaggerates the impact, coughing as if his wind is knocked out.

“I know how to save. I just know how to spend too,” my brother says, winking at me.

“Yeah, how many cell phones have you busted? What is it, four? You’re good at spending on those,” my dad throws back at him.

We follow my dad’s lead toward the house, and this walk that we’ve done so many times, all four of us tumbling into the kitchen after talking about car stuff while my mom has food ready for the table, suddenly feels strange. As normal as my dad pretends everything is, I’m very aware of how much it isn’t. I want to fast-forward to a time when my parents are good with me dating Dustin, when they see how wrong they were about everything, and when I can walk into my house proudly holding his hand, knowing they won’t stare at it as if it’s impending doom.