“I’ll let you change.” He goes to leave, then turns back. “So what’s your name?”
“Rumor. What’s yours?”
“Jackson.” He smiles. “Rumor. Good name. I like it.”
I smile back. “I don’t really like Jackson, but I won’t hold it against you.”
He laughs as he leaves, closing the door behind him.
The shorts and shirt are almost the perfect size. The shirt’s looser in the chest than I’m used to, but that girl I saw him with last night had a huge chest, so it makes sense she’d need a bigger shirt. The shorts are really short, like show-your-butt-cheeks short, but at least they’re dry. My jean shorts were soaking wet. My underwear was too, so I took them off. I couldn’t really wear them anyway with these shorts.
“I’m ready,” I say, coming out of the bathroom.
“In the living room,” Jackson yells.
I find him on the couch, checking his phone.
“Thanks for the clothes.”
“No problem.” He stands up, his eyes going over me. Even though the shirt is loose, I’m not wearing a bra under it, so I’m sure my nipples are on display. I almost put my bra back on, but it was too wet.
“I can just walk home,” I tell him as I yank on my shirt, pulling it away from my chest. “I’ll take the sidewalk this time, assuming that’s not off limits.”
He walks over to me. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just don’t like people on my property, especially out back. I’ve had some issues in the past.”
“You mean your parents have. You keep talking like this is your place. It’s confusing.”
“Thisismy place.”
“You live here, but it belongs to your parents.” I look around. “Where are they? At work?”
“Who the fuck knows? I don’t keep track of them.” He walks over to the coffee table and grabs his keys. “Car’s out front.”
He walks off.
“Wait!” I hobble behind. “I can’t go that fast.”
He turns back. “Want me to carry you?”
“No. Just slow down.” I catch up to him. “What’s the deal with your parents? They don’t live here?”
“They live all over. Last I heard my dad was in Lisbon, shooting a movie. Haven’t heard from my mom in months.”
“So you’re here alone? They don’t even check in?”
“They don’t have to. I’m an emancipated minor.” He opens the door for me.
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I’m an adult.” He locks the door. “I take care of myself.”
“For how long? How long have you done this?”
“I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen.” He walks over to a shiny black Range Rover and opens my door. “Need help getting in?”
“No. I’m good.” I step inside and notice the new car smell. When he gets in, I turn to him. “So your parents bought you this house, then just left?”
“They didn’t buy it. It’s mine.”
