by A. R. Perry
Thunder rocks the sky above me. That shit rolled in out of nowhere. Freaking Utah weather. Now I wish I stopped my locker to grab my jacket and scarf. If I end up with a damn cold that makes me miss work because of Michelle, I’m going to…do nothing because it’s not like I can do anything without retribution.
I jog though the parking lot, feeling the first drop of rain on my arm as I near the back. Of course. Of course, it would start raining now.
A car honks from my left, but I keep my eyes straight ahead. Teachers don’t park with students but it could be one of the security guards. If I act normal, as if what I’m doing isn’t against the rules or I have a good reason for leaving, there’s a good chance they’ll leave me be.
A honk blares again, this time closer. Too close. I tuck my chin to my chest, heading for the grass that separates the school from the street. Just as I’m about to clear the last stretch of asphalt, a silver SUV slides to a stop in front of me. The clouds take that moment, to open and pour what feels like a giant F-you on my head.
The window rolls down a few inches. “Hop in,” Braden calls.
The fabric of my shirt clings to my skin as I tuck my phone deeper into my pocket so it doesn’t get soaked. I can’t afford a new one anytime soon. My gaze wanders to the street where I can see my bus at the red light. If I jog I can make it.
“Thought you only gave rides to friends.”
His sigh is unmistakable. “Stella, get in the damn car.” He reaches over and flings open the door. Rain pelts his interior, coming down with a ferocity I haven’t seen in a long time.
Shaking my head, I hop in, swinging my backpack off my shoulder to rest on the floorboard. This is a terrible idea.
“Where are you going?” he asks as he turns and heads toward the exit.
“Away.” I wipe at the wetness on my face but it does little to nothing since my hands are also soaked. “Where are you going?”
“I have to be somewhere.” He gives me a sidelong glance and clears his throat. “Mr. Brown will certainly notice that both of us are gone.”
And rumors will spread. Awesome.
“Where can I drop you off?”
“Anywhere but here.”
Braden reaches into the back seat at a red light and comes back with a dark blue sweatshirt. “Here.” He tosses it on my lap.
The heat is on high, but I’m still freezing since I’m soaked to the bone. I stare at the sweatshirt for a couple seconds, not entirely comfortable wearing someone else’s clothes. The second another teeth-chattering shiver runs through my body, I give in and pull it on.
Big mistake.
The damn thing smells so much like Braden that it’s overpowering. I tug at the neck, pulling it as far as it will go away from my face, but it’s no use.
“So, you gonna tell me why you’re ditching?” Braden asks once the light turns green almost as if he needs the road to distract him from fully engaging in any conversation.
“You going to tell me where you’re going?” I retort, once again tugging at the collar. My clothes underneath will no doubt smell like him now too. Not something I can handle.
He scratches the back of his head and even in profile, I can see his face scrunch up. “My mom’s in the hospital.”
Damn. Michelle mentioned that. I forgot after she laid into me. Now I sound callous.
“Is she okay?”
“I think she’ll be okay.”
“Good.” My attention turns to the roadside. Why is this so awkward? We can sit for hours talking about schoolwork. There’s always an undercurrent of irritation, but not awkwardness. And asking why his mom is in the hospital, even though I’m curious, isn’t a question I can ask. Not where I sit in our weird not quite friend status.
Out of nowhere Braden’s phone blares to life, startling me and causing me to jump and slam my shoulder into the door.
He chuckles at my response, but it falls from his face when he glances at the screen.
“Hello?” One hand grips the steering wheel as the other clutches the phone so tight, his knuckles turn white.
If I thought it was awkward before, sitting and listening to the one-sided conversation that has him looking uncomfortable kicked it up a notch.
“Okay. Yeah, I can grab that. What time will she be up?” He tips his wrist toward him, eyes darting to a black watch with a steampunk-looking face. “Yeah, that works. Thank you for calling.”
He tosses his phone back into one of the cup holders and sighs. “Do you mind if we stop by my house first?”
My body screams hell to the no as it rocks with yet another shiver, but I nod. Whatever has him rattled has to do with his mother I’m sure of it. That’s more important than getting out of wet clothes. No clue how I would react if my mom was in the hospital.
Besides, the damage is done. If I’m getting sick, it’s too late to change it.
A few minutes later we pull up outside a single-story house, painted a ridiculous shade of baby blue and wrapped in a cliché white picket fence. I can’t imagine Braden living here. Hell, I can’t imagine anyone living here except someone from one of those cheesy Hallmark movies. He cuts the engine then grabs his stuff from the back.
“Come on.” He hops out and runs for the front door, leaving me no other choice but to follow him or freeze since he took the glorious heat with him when he shut the car off.
He sidesteps a black ramp taking up the right side of the front stairs and jogs up the four steps, digging into his pants pocket as he goes.
I follow his path, taking in the side of the house and what looks as if it used to be a plush garden. All that’s left are dead bushes.
Braden drops his bag by the door and I do the same, kicking off my shoes for good measure since they’re soaked and I don’t want to soggy up the floor.
“Let’s warm you up.” Braden waves over his shoulder as he makes his way down the darkened hall.
With the lights off and the sun blocked by clouds I can barely see where I’m going. My fingers glide against the wall so I don’t trip. There seems to be a hell of a lot of frames covering every square inch from what I can tell.
“I have some clothes you can change into.” Braden pushes open a door and steps inside, but I linger.
Pretty sure this is his bedroom. I haven’t been in a boy’s room since Jesse. The thought alone is enough to make me sick, but Braden also threw in a sweet comment about having clothes for me. He’s a big guy. Over six feet and muscular, but the sudden rush of panic at the thought that his clothes won’t fit has me backing up.
“You can come in,” he says over his shoulder as he bends down to the bottom drawer.
Yeah. No thanks.
I cross my arms over my chest, making my wet shirt stick uncomfortably to my skin, and remain planted in the middle of the hall.
“Here.” He thrusts what appears to be sweatpants and a T-shirt at me. “If you want to shower to warm up, we have some time to kill.” His hands land on my shoulders, spinning me until I’m facing the opposite wall and a door. “You hungry?”
I shake my head. A fuse might have blown. Here I am soaking wet in the house of a guy I barely know, holding his clothes and contemplating taking a shower while his hands are on me.
We’ve gone so far out of awkward territory.
“Well, I’m going to make something.” He leaves me standing there chewing on my bottom lip.
Why the hell is he being so nice? The popular kids can’t wait to use me as their punching bag, but for some reason he hasn’t used any opportunity to take his punch.
When my body spasms again from the cold, I put the thought aside for later.
The bathroom is nicer than I would have thought. No clue why that’s the first thought that pops into my head. I place his loaner clothes on the counter before checking out my surroundings.
Not a thing out of place.
Towels are folded perfectly.
Nothing graces the counter besides a fancy soap bottle.
&
nbsp; I resist the urge to check his medicine cabinet and drawers, instead turning to the clothes I’ll probably rip out of Incredible Hulk-style.
Might as well get it over.
I let my soggy clothes fall to the floor with an audible slap, deciding to lose the bra but keep my undies on. That feels too intimate. Besides, they fared better than the rest of my clothes.
The shirt goes on no problem. I wasn’t concerned about that, anyway. Boy has shoulders like a linebacker. The pants are what has my gut twisting. How embarrassing would that be if I couldn’t pull them up over my thunder thighs? It probably wasn’t even a thought that occurred to him. He dates twigs for crying out loud.
With breath held, I shove my feet in and slide the rest of the fabric up, praying as I go. When the waistband snaps into place on my hips my mouth pops open. I do a spin. Bend over to check that I won’t rip them. Then, and only then, do I peek in the mirror.
Not bad.
I mean, I look as if I’ve gone for a swim and my curly hair is a mess, sticking to the back of my neck and face. But overall, not bad. I slip on the sweatshirt as I exit the bathroom. No need for him to see my boobs in all their unrestrained glory.
Braden flashes me a smile as I enter the kitchen. I’m sure I look about a nervous as I feel. I’m way out of my comfort zone and that’s not something I do well with.
“Made you a sandwich.” He holds up the plate then motions to the kitchen table with his head. “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I’d feel like an ass eating in front of you.”
Was that a dig?
“Want something to drink?” He sets the plate down in front of me and I would be lying if I said it was unappealing. Somehow, he’s made a quality sandwich resembling the kind I sometimes buy at the fancy deli by the café.
“Water is fine.” I spin the plate in a half circle on the table, keeping my eyes locked on the intricate floral patter around the rim.
“You sure? I have a crap-ton of soda. Terrible for you but I think sure I’m addicted.”
“That’s why they’re terrible.”
“Yeah, well…” He shrugs and sets the water bottle down next to my hand. “So, why did you bolt from school? Seems out of character for you.”
Okay, so he’s going to jump right in. I take a bite out of the sandwich so I can delay answering him. Telling him that Michelle accosted me could go one of two ways. Either he will be pissed or he will side with her. Neither I’m prepared to deal with. So, I distract myself with the delicious sandwich and taking in the kitchen.
Way nicer than ours. Once again everything tidy to the point of strange. Where at my house there would be leftover dishes in the sink from my mom and stacks of papers and magazines she insists she’ll read, Braden’s kitchen is spotless.
It’s kind of creepy.
“Well?”
My gaze lands on him. Eyebrows raised, eyes locked on me with such intensity it makes me squirm in my chair. I should lie, but…
“Ever have a day where you just need to get away from people?” Okay, not the full truth.
He nods.
“Well. That’s why.”
“I’m sorry.” He lays his hand over the top of mine, stopping my fidgeting and warming me to the bone. “Getting caught in the rain can’t help. Kind of like the weather agreed with your mood.”
Well damn it if that wasn’t my exact thought.
“Isn’t high school fun?” My inner sass comes on a little too strong because his hand is still on mine. I wince but when he laughs, I’m left confused.
What’s with this boy?
“High school blows.” He finally breaks contact making it to where I can breathe again. “A means to an end. And with your help, I won’t have to repeat the year.”
He wasn’t that bad off. Maybe summer school, but not graduating with your class is about as embarrassing as it gets besides failing altogether.
“If we don’t ditch any more classes.”
His grin in response sends a zap of electricity through my stomach. “We’ll see.”
I knew he didn’t take it seriously.
“That kind of attitude will land you in summer school.” I stand, glancing at the clock above the stove. Yeah, I’ve spent enough time in borrowed clothes. “I should head out.”
“I’ll give you a ride. Just let me finish my sandwich.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Stella, let me give you a ride.”
God, why do I like the way my names sounds on his lips so much? I shouldn’t. But as a shiver runs down my spine, I know it’s no longer from the cold.
“Okay,” I relent, taking a seat, keeping my eyes on anything but him. After a few moments of silence, I start tapping my fingers on the table. After a few more, my foot joins in as I resist the urge to pull out my phone. After what feels like an eternity, I glance his way only to find him not eating, but staring at me.
What the hell? “Shouldn’t you be finishing that?” I point a limp finger at his half-eaten meal, doing my best not to fidget when he smiles. “What’s so funny?”
He gives a slight shake of his head as he picks up his sandwich. “Nothing.”
Okay, so he’s a total weirdo. A weirdo whose clothes I’m wearing. And a weirdo who in a couple minutes will know where I live. Awesome.
Exactly five bites later—not that I’m counting—Braden deposits our plates into the dish washer and grabs his keys off the counter.
I’m already waiting by the front door, eager to leave. So anxious I almost forget my wet clothes. Yikes. Leaving my bra behind at a guy’s house is not a situation I want to be in.
Holding up one finger, I jog to the bathroom. With nowhere to put them, I walk back holding the pile of clothes with my bra tucked between my shirt and jeans. No need for him to see this particular secret of Victoria’s. Pretty sure he’s seen plenty of others to satisfy his imagination.
Braden hands me my backpack as I slip into my still wet shoes. Ever put on wet shoes? The worst feeling second only to wet jeans.
“Where to?” he asks as he locks the front door.
I rattle off my address and he nods as if he knows exactly where that’s at. Not that it should surprise me. A few girls from our grade live close. Janelle, one of Michelle’s evil minions, lives on my block. It kind of makes me wonder if he’s dabbled in Michelle’s closer circle of friends with the way he blows through girls.
“So I won’t be able to make tutoring Thursday either,” he says once we’re on the road.
“Oh?” I ask as I finger comb my hair. It’s early, which means my mom will be home. Kind of going to suck explaining why I’m wearing a guy’s clothes. I don’t want to look like I’ve been up to anything she wouldn’t approve of.
“Yeah. Things are a little up in the air with my mom.” He rubs the back. I think it is unconscious. A habit out of uncomfortableness. “Maybe…I don’t know…we could catch up Friday night?”
Why does it almost sound as if he’s asking me on a date? I shake my head and that thought right out. So ridiculous.
“Well, I work Friday.”
“Right. Right.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “I think you mentioned that.”
“But, can you come to the café?”
He side-eyes me, his fingers tapping faster.
“It’s only me and Zari working. She already knows about me tutoring you. And this way if anyone walks in it doesn’t look like we’re hanging out.”
He quiets for a couple seconds before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. What time should I be there?”
“Four? I get off a little after eight so that should give us time between customers.”
Braden slows to a stop and my head snaps to the side. We got to my house fast. I’m still not prepared to have my mom see me like this.
“Sounds good.” He throws the car into Park and turns to me. His fingers find the drawstring of his hoodie and I try my best not to flinch when he gives it a tug. “
Try not to lose this. It’s kind of a new favorite.”
“Okay…”
He smiles and shakes his head. “See you tomorrow, Stella.”
I stumble from the car, mumbling my goodbye. I swear my skin tingles from where his fingertips brushed over my collarbone. It wasn’t even skin to skin for crying out loud and my body is having a party. Without my permission, might I add.
Resisting the urge to glance over my shoulder, I shove my key into the door and elbow it open. Once I’m inside, I hear his car pull away from the curb.
With a calming breath, I kick my shoes off and drop my bag as quietly as possible. I don’t see or hear my mom anywhere. Fingers crossed she’s getting ready for work or taking a midafternoon nap. When she has to work the opening shift and closing in the same day, it’s not uncommon for her to get in a few minutes to snooze.
I’m four steps from my bedroom door when she pops her head out of her room. “Hey hun, you’re home early.”
“Yeah. The kid I tutor canceled.”
She nods with a smile, but then her gaze travels down my body and the smile drops right from her face. “What’s with the getup?”
“Got caught in the rain.” My hand reaches for my doorknob.
“Those aren’t your clothes.”
Damn her and her motherly eyes.
“Yeah, a friend loaned them to me.”
Her eyebrow arches. She knows I don’t have friends. Part of me knows I should tell her the truth. It’s not as if I did anything wrong. But she’s also aware of all the crap that went down freshman year and there is no way I’ll get out of this without a lecture.
“It’s nothing, Mom.”
“They look like boy’s clothes.” Her hands reach around her head, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail.
“Okay.” I push open my door with my shoulder. “I have homework to do.”
“Stella.” My feet freeze where they are. Reluctantly, I turn to face her. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“No.”
This is the first time in my life I haven’t been totally honest with her. But I guess that’s only half-true. There is nothing going on with Braden and me. But she loves to overreact. If I mention a guy, any guy, she’ll be breathing down my neck for the foreseeable future.