Livvy by Lori L. Otto Read Free Book Online

says, looking at me curiously. “What’s Thursday?”
    “I have another date, that’s all.”
    “With one of the guys you’ve already been out with?” Mom asks. I shake my head. “With whom?”
    “Uhhh...” I can’t say ‘you don’t know him’ and blow off the question, because–of course–they do know him. “It’s Emmanuel, okay?”
    “Emmanuel Cortez, as in Manny?” Dad asks, referring to the boy he sponsored to go to the best art academy in the city when I was a stubborn child who didn’t want to leave Nate’s Art Room.
    “The one and only, but he asked me not to call him that anymore.” My parents both smile, obviously pleased with the prospect. If they saw how he’d changed since last year, I don’t think either would be happy. Dad has never been a fan of alternative culture, and he especially doesn’t like guys with earrings. I’m sure he thinks I’d never date someone like that since I don’t even have my own ears pierced.
    When Anna had asked me if I wanted them done for my ninth birthday, I told her simply that I wanted to remain a blank canvas. I don’t even know where I got the notion back then, but I always liked being relatively unadorned. I like being able to be anyone I want from one day to the next, just by wearing different clothes, and more or less makeup.
    Back then, I saw how people who looked differently were judged by others. I knew I already had enough people watching me, without drawing extra attention to myself. Sure, earrings for girls are nothing, and in fact are expected these days, but I still like the fact that I’d resisted peer pressure over the years. I was the only girl I knew that was my age who didn’t have any piercings.
    I can’t imagine Jon kissing my ears as he did with studs in my lobes. I wonder if piercing desensitizes that part of the body, because I’d never want that feeling to lessen. His teeth, scraping against my skin there... I shiver just thinking about it.
    “I didn’t even know you’d seen him this year,” Dad says. “You haven’t mentioned him.”
    “He’s the TA in my intro to photography class.”
    “Are you supposed to date teaching assistants?” Mom asks.
    “Am I supposed to?” I ask her. “Or is it frowned upon?”
    “I guess the second one.”
    “I don’t know. Maybe he has rules, but I don’t. It’s not really a date, anyway, so much as it is two friends going out for dinner. We’ll probably talk about photography all night. It’s really no big deal, and Matty,” I say, turning my attention to him, “please do not make a big deal out of this.”
    “You’re the one who told me how hot he is, with his mohawk–ow!” he exclaims when I jab him in the rib. I look over at my dad. He looks surprised.
    “Mohawk?”
    I shrug my shoulders. “He got a haircut,” I say simply.
    “Into a mohawk?”
    “He does look kinda hot,” I say softly.
    “Well, that’s interesting,” Dad says, looking away as he takes a bite of his salmon. “That would be an interesting story, though, if you ended up with him,” he adds with a small smile.
    “I don’t think you magically identified my lifelong mate when I was six, Dad. It’s just one date.”
    “You just said it wasn’t really a date, though,” he challenges me, looking smug.
    “Right. It’s not.”
    My cheeks heat up as I look at my mom. She’s grinning, but looking down at her plate. When she asks what our plans are, I tell her about the tapas restaurant, but leave out the part about the bar. One of Emmanuel’s selling points on that location was the fact that he knew they would serve us there. Apparently, many of the waitresses are models he has hired for photo shoots.
    After we exhaust that conversation, Dad gets back to practical questions. “So, where do you think you might look for a job this week?”
    “I don’t think I’m going to.”
    “Livvy, I was serious about the bills. You need to pay your share.”
    “I will,” I tell him. “I’m going