Chapter 19
I Need A Babysitter
Adrian is missing all day and night Saturday. Again, the tornado hits, then blows out of town leaving behind the wreckage. I decide ask Kade where he goes when he disappears for days, and I learn he goes to see his brothers, who apparently live with his aunt. I want to ask more questions, but I feel like I should ask Adrian, not his friends. I decide the next chance I get, I will try to have an actual conversation with him. If he tries to flirt or make sexual comments, I can ignore it, right?
Sunday afternoon I’m in my room, completing an assignment that’s due in the morning when Adrian comes busting through my door.
“Hey, sweet cheeks,” he says, climbing into my bed.
I’m at my desk, so I spin my chair to face him. He picks up a pillow, inspecting the pink skull and crossbones edging the black pillowcase. He nods approvingly, then looks around my room, taking in all my military, tactical, and Walking Dead decorations. It’s not your typical college girl’s room, but it’s all me.
I clear my throat, getting his attention. “My door was closed for a reason. What if I were naked?” As soon as the question is out of my mouth, I realize this is Adrian. “Oh never mind,” I say, waving it off.
He flashes a ridiculous smile. “You’re learning.”
I circle around to my desk, giving him my back. “What do you want?” I ask, then remember my decision last night to attempt a normal conversation. I search my mind for a question to ask, but I come up blank.
I hear him get up from the bed, then my chair is being pulled backward, and he spins me around to face him. He’s sitting on the bed, legs spread so that they’re on either side of mine. He takes my hands in his, then lays them on my lap.
“I have a proposition for you.” His face shows no expression.
I purse my lips, acting like I’m thinking, then shake my head. “No thanks. Hawk already took care of me today.”
He closes his eyes and draws in a slow breath. “You have to stop talking about your one-on-one time with your vibrator or I’m going to have no choice but to put cameras in your room.”
I shrug. “Sorry, I’m not mentally capable of filtering my comments.”
“Don’t apologize.” He strokes my hands with his thumbs. “You can make it up to me by letting me participate next time.”
I roll my eyes. “Nice try. Now, what did you want to propose?”
“Can I at least watch?” he tries again.
“No chance.”
His eyes flick down to my mouth, then back to mine. He holds my gaze for several seconds, and when he speaks, his voice is much less playful. “Aren’t you a little interested to see what skills I’ve learned from your lady porn books?”
I swallow hard and hope he doesn’t notice, then clear my throat. “You had something you were going to ask, and I’m assuming those last few questions don’t count.”
“Right,” he says, holding up a finger. “I need a babysitter.”
I blink waiting for him to give me more information.
"Okay, I can see you're not following."
Not following? He hasn't told me anything yet. I keep staring.
He releases my hands and scoots back on the bed. “You may have noticed that I don’t take many things seriously.”
“I may have,” I say, keeping my answer short, so I don’t distract him.
“Well, it all started as a way piss off my dad.” When he says this, his normally carefree personality seems to disappear. Anger and disgust cross his face.
“Okay, that makes complete sense,” I say, the sarcasm clear in my voice.
He pauses, looking as if he’s trying to decide how much to share. He’s clenching his teeth and I can see the muscle in his jaw twitching. This is angry Adrian.
Making his decision, he goes on. “My dad’s a grade-A piece of shit. He doesn’t care about me or my brothers, he only cares that we make him look good. So, I utilize every opportunity I can to screw up, hoping to piss him off a little more every day.”
“You really know how to stick it to ‘em,” I mock. “I mean, what better way to tell your dad to fuck off than to ruin your own future.”
He waves me off. “You sound like my aunt. She’s always telling me I need to set goals, and grow up and stop eating butter straight from the fridge.”
What the hell? I don’t know if I should laugh or throw up.
“Anyway,” Adrian goes on, now pacing the room. “Now I'm here, at college, and I've had more fun than a dozen five-year-olds at Chucky cheese, but probably a little too much fun. You see, I'm kinda on my third strike with the dean well, more accurately, probably my twenty-third strike, but who's counting?"
I turn my chair to watch him pacing. ”Well, the dean of students I'm guessing."
"You are correct," he says, stroking his jaw. "And because the dean is so inappropriately obsessed with my behavior management issues, that is why I need a babysitter.”
I look at him questioningly. “I think that’s the dean of student’s job, to manage your behavior.”
He throws his hands up in frustration. “Will you please stop interrupting me? I don’t know how you get such good grades when you’re so easily distracted.”
Uh-huh, I get distracted.
“Back to my proposition,” he says, “I need someone who doesn't take my shit and isn't afraid to put me in my place. I need someone to be with me most times when I'm on campus… and off-campus is probably necessary too.”
"You want me to do what, hold your hand and lock you in your room at night?" I already know this is a horrible idea, but I need details, purely for my amusement.
"I need to stop partying five nights a week. I need to make sure I get to my student teaching every day because not passing that will mean no graduation. And I need to not get arrested anymore. That one's kind of a biggie." He grimaces, with extreme exaggeration.