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drip-drop of a leaky faucet. The dripping stole away the noises of what could have been, yet it sounded empty, making the moment appear innocent.
    I forced myself to step away from the door and wrung my hands, hoping that whatever I couldn’t see wouldn’t betray me. Then I wondered if my past conversations with Lauren, my insistence on her remaining a virgin, had created a bigger problem. I hated second-guessing my decisions when it came to her, but after all I’d been through as a teen mother, I knew I had to make the tough choices and stick to them.
    I went to my bedroom dragging my feet and leaving tiny imprints on the carpet. The sounds of doors opening and closing held my rapt attention. I sat on the edge of my bed, eyes shut and toes curled so tight they clustered upward as if they were bruised and swollen.
    After a while I heard a tap on my door.
    “Who is it?”
    “Aaron, ma’am.”
    I snorted and opened the door to the degree that my eyes could only see his. He pushed his head through the crack as much as the tiny space would allow. His lips and mustache were inches away from my own lips.
    I sniffed, not the I’m-about-to-cry kind of sniffing, but the kind that your body allows when you want to inhale the scent of a man who doesn’t belong to you but that tiny detail still hasn’t registered.
    For a second something inside asked me,
Why do you insist on checking out Aaron? Does the name Steve Monroe mean anything to you?
    Why should his name mean anything?
I thought, and winced at the memory of Steve’s sorry-ass tactics.
    I squinted at Aaron, who had a blank yet sexy look on his face.
    “What you guys doing?” I asked in a low, deliberate voice.
    “Nothing,” he said, looking straight in my eyes, “Ab-so-lute-ly nothing.”
    “Wh-where’s Lauren?” I questioned in a hushed tone, and tried to peek through the door just in case itching ears were near.
    “She’s in her room.” He shrugged. “Her door’s closed,” he said, still eyeballing me.
    “Oh.”
    He kept staring and I didn’t know how I was supposed to react. My legs twitched every few seconds. Even though I was nervous, I looked back at Aaron. I didn’t want him to think he could intimidate me, but right then, our staring at each other felt bizarre yet soothing.
    I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Tell his ass to go home. Tell him.
    My heart sank like a million gallons of tears weighed it down. I swallowed real hard, hoping that all my illicit thoughts might drown within my body, disappearing, and canceling out whatever bad-girl things I was thinking at that time.
    What exactly had Lauren and Aaron been doing behind closed doors? I pictured this guy sucking her lips and fondling her tiny breasts. And for just a second I wondered if he’d enjoy the experience better if I was my daughter and his hands were all over me.
    Stop that, Tracey. Stop.
    “Hey, uh, I need to get something, please?” Aaron said, and snapped me out of my mental bondage. His voice sounded more normal, more sincere.
    “From here? You need something from my room?” I asked.
    “Uh, yeah.”
    “What is it? I’ll get it,” I snapped.
    “My paaaas,” he mumbled.
    “Speak up, what did you say?” His tongue got in the way of his words, and he was acting strange, a little too annoying for my tastes. I couldn’t wait for him to get whatever he needed and then get on out.
    “Pants,” he said, his voice laden with edginess.
    I whirled open the door, smirking in doubt, but sure enough the guy only had on a white undershirt and a pair of tight-fitting BVDs, but no pants.
    How utterly stupid,
I thought, looking from his eyes to his midsection to his eyes again.
He could at least have the brains enough to let Lauren
sneak in here and get his pants.
    I widened my door and let him brush past me and he retrieved his slacks, which were crumpled on my bureau.
    I kneaded the corners of my forehead with my fingers. It was one of those moments when a parent knows she