by A. R. Perry
Once he catches the look of horror painted all over my face, he leans forward, gripping his side as he shakes with laughter.
I’m so tempted to slam the door in his face, but my overwhelming urge to let him know he hasn’t gotten me keeps me rooted in place. I settle my hand on my hip and cock it to the side.
“Something funny?”
“Kinda glad you canceled if this is what you planned on wearing.” He stands up cheeks flushed from laughing so hard.
Jesus. This must be the first time he’s seen a girl in less than perfect condition. Scratch that, this is the second time. Both times were me.
Sticking with the whole you’re-not-getting-to-me attitude, I smile and tilt my head to the side. “You don’t have to play it cool, we both know these pants are amazing. It’s how I score all the guys.”
His eyebrows shoot up as he steps forward, bracing a palm on the doorframe. “All the guys, huh? You saying I have competition?”
I swallow so hard my throat aches. He’s close enough to smell. That damn glorious scent penetrates my brain making my thoughts jumble together.
“No. I mean, y-yes. Batting them off with a…you know…a….” My hand swings through the air, jabbing it like one would with a sword.
Braden’s smile grows as he leans forward, bringing his eyes level. “Stick?” He correctly guesses the word I couldn’t get out. With his gaze locked on mine, he wraps one of my loose curls around his long pointer finger, giving it a soft tug when he reaches the end. “Is that why you tried to cancel on me? Better offer?”
There could never be a better offer. A breathy giggle escapes me. I don’t know what he’s done to me or who’s possessed my body, but it sounds totally different.
Licking my lips, I try to shake away my overwhelming nerves. Braden’s gaze drops to my mouth before flicking up.
The look in his eyes is almost hungry. “So…you’re not canceling on me?”
Before my brain can catch up, I’m shaking my head.
This is bad. This is so bad. There is no way I’ll be able to keep my wits about me when he’s around acting all…all…sexy. I think this is the first time he’s turned the charm on. No wonder all the girls fall at his feet.
His grin is triumphant. “Well, good.” Leaning away, he runs fingers through his hair. “You still up for burgers?”
No. Food sounds terrible. It’s as if my stomach went on one of those twisty rides at the fair without my brain. Now that they’re united again, neither one knows how to react.
“Or….” Braden shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Since you have such an awful track record anytime we go out anywhere to eat. We can order something in?”
Oh…oh!
That’s a terrible idea.
I’ll be alone with him.
On the couch.
My tiny couch that will leave us way too close together.
Nope. We can’t go there.
Ever.
But if I know that…why is my head bobbing up and down? Why am I moving to the side, granting him access to my house?
This is bad. I think I need to vote my heart off the island here because it’s making dangerous choices. I don’t even have an exit strategy now. Not for the next three hours until I have to be at work.
Braden’s gaze sweeps over the room. Our house isn’t the biggest on the block. But it’s cozy and filled with a ton of memories from when I was little. Mom is sentimental, which is the reason she’d rather deal with the increase in rent then moving into an apartment. Plus, there weren’t many in our district and she didn’t want to uproot me even when I told her it was no sweat. In fact, it would have been a favor.
“So…what sounds good?” Braden kicks off his black Vans and moves out of the way so I can shut the door.
I’m doing this…
The door clicks shut taking all the sunlight with it and leaving the interior dim. Almost romantic.
“How about pizza?” I ask.
Mom is so going to kill me.
He nods, digging his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll order. Maybe we can watch a movie?”
Is this a date?
This sounds like a date.
No. It sounds like a hookup.
“Sure.”
Yeah. My mom is definitely going to kill me. I glimpse the clock above the fireplace. Well, at least she won’t be home until I’m already headed to work. That’s not a conversation I want to dive into again.
“What do you want on it?”
Is it bad to say everything? “Peppers. Onions. Olives.”
Braden’s nose wrinkles. “That’s it? Why not just eat a salad?”
Why did he even ask if he was going to argue? “I’m not picky. Order whatever you want.”
“Combo?”
I nod. That’s my favorite. Or the crazy bacon ranch thing if I’m feeling adventurous. But that one is also loaded down with a bunch of garlic. Not that it should matter since this isn’t a date, but still, I don’t want breath on my mind all afternoon.
His thumb flies across the screen before he places it against his ear. “Do we need drinks?”
“Only if you want that addictive soda. Mom doesn’t allow it in the house.”
“Good thing I asked.”
Braden turns away as someone picks up on the other line. While he places the order I wander farther into the living room searching for anything embarrassing like a stray bra or the girly magazines my mom likes to read.
Once satisfied that nothing will top my pants embarrassment, I perch on the arm of the couch and pull up Netflix. My stomach rolls with unease. I’ve never done this with a boy. Jesse and I went to see movies, but never watched them at each other’s houses. My mom never let us be alone and his parents, well, they were never around so we used that time for other things… Things that almost ruined high school for me.
“About fifteen minutes,” Braden calls as he rounds the couch. “Anything look good?”
I clear my throat. “Well, that depends on if you’re into murderers, cheesy romances, or old sitcoms.”
“Tough choice.” He rubs a palm down his jean-clad legs as he falls onto the couch cushion. “What about that one?” He points to the screen, stopping me from scrolling further.
It’s a British sci-fi. Super dark judging from the preview. I’ve never watched it because it seems like the type of show you would want to discuss with someone and my current friend status didn’t leave me with that option.
“Sure.” I slide off the armrest onto the cushion, tucking my feet under my butt as I press Play.
“I think I’ve seen an episode of this when I was dating—” His eyes flick. “From what I remember it’s good.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and runs a hand across the back of his neck.
Why won’t he say her name? It’s not as if I care. The whole school knows he was with Michelle. And Yvonne. And Samantha. And Mia. And well, yeah.
The boy has covered a lot of ground when it comes to the female population and seemed damn proud of it during the time. So what changed?
Better question is why do I care?
I turn my attention to the TV just in time for Braden’s eyes to swing my way. Straining my peripherals, I can see him studying me, eyebrows pulled down in what appears to be confusion. Not sure what I did to confuse him. I maintain composure and pour all my focus into the show.
It’s not bad. A twist of social commentary mixed with things that may only be possible in the future. But I assumed correctly. This is the type of show that needs discussion afterward. No way I would be able to walk away without finding out what others took from it.
Halfway through the episode there is a knock on the door. I wave away Braden’s attempt to get up as I hop over the side of the coach. My bag is still where I tossed it when I came home last night and I stoop to grab my wallet and the cash I have from last week’s tips.
Right as I’m standing, Braden steps up behind me, plucking my wallet from my han
ds.
“This is my treat.” He holds the wallet over his head as I lunge for it, his eyes lighting with amusement when I don’t even come close.
“I have cash. Let’s split it.”
“Nope.” He dodges me again and reaches for the door.
A lanky kid with his greasy blond hair pulled back into a pony tail gives Braden a tight smile. His gaze rolls over me before popping the top on one of those pizza warmer things.
“$20.62,” the kid mumbles, his eyes shifting to me one more time before focusing on Braden.
I watch in irritation as Braden pulls out a twenty and a five and exchanges the cash for the pizza and a two-liter of cola. I understand wanting to pay thing since I’ve ditched him several times, but he could have at least let me tip. Maybe I can sneak cash in the pockets of the clothes I plan on returning before he leaves.
Branden turns with his hands loaded down to the max and kicks the door closed with his sock-clad foot. The pizza box rests against his hip, with a bag of breadsticks resting on top. His other hand clutches mini containers of cheese and peppers while the soda is pinched between his bicep and side.
I’m kind of enjoying watching him struggle as he takes a step toward the couch only to bobble and catch the bread from sliding off the side.
With a smirk, I reach out, plucking the bread off before it ends up a grease stain on our carpet.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll grab cups and ice for that.” I tilt my chin toward the soda. My fingers brush against Braden’s side as I attempt to slip the bottle free from his grip. Braden freezes and a sharp gasp escapes my mouth at the jolt of electricity I felt at the slight contact.
As I scramble to get my hand the hell out of there, I grab the neck of the bottle. Unfortunately, built-up condensation made the damn thing slipperier than the sea cucumber I touched one time at a school field trip.
I lunge for the bottle as it drops from both of our grips. Braden seems to have the same idea. Flavor packets fly in the air as he juggles the pizza box and dives for the soda bottle. The next thing I know, my forehead smashes into something hard enough to make the world spin.
Braden groans. The bottle hits the ground then rolls toward the kitchen. I stumble back, gripping my head and don’t see the edge of the side table until I clip into it, sending me ass over end.
For a few seconds I lay there, staring at the dust bunnies under the couch, trying to figure out at what exact moment my life went wrong and led me to this point. All I wanted was to make it through senior year with the same anonymity I’ve had for the past two years. But no. Braden just had to come around and ruin it.
Laughter breaks me out of my daze. Squinting up, I watch as Braden set the pizza down on the offending side table.
“You’re dangerous.” He smirks, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I haven’t been hit that hard since I took a cheap helmet to helmet hit.
Ahh. So he did play sports. I knew he had that vibe. No wonder he fits in with the rest of the jocks.
“Come on, Bone Crusher, let’s get some ice.” He extends a hand down to me, his long fingers beckoning for me to take it with a little wiggle.
Even though I never want to touch him again if the result might be me laid out on the floor, the fear of falling flat on my face if I try alone makes me take his offer. I wrap my fingers around his and allow him to haul me up. Once on my feet, I wobble, thrown off balance from the throb in my head.
Braden’s arm wraps around my back, steadying me against his chest. I forget how to breathe. To think. To function as he trails a gentle finger over the source of the throbbing.
“You’re gonna have a nasty bump.”
I think I nod although I can’t be sure. I’m lost in those damn gorgeous eyes of his as they sparkle like some rare gemstone. Little lines jut out from the corners as he smiles and releases me, only to circle my wrist with his fingers and tug me toward the kitchen.
“Okay.” His hands grip my hips and in one smooth motion he lifts me up and plants me on the counter. “For the safety of everyone involved. Stay.”
I’m in such shock that he lifted me without pulling a muscle I only blink.
“Alright.” He opens the freezer door and comes out with a bag of frozen peas.
When the hell did my mom buy that?
Braden snags a hand towel off the stove and wraps it around the bag as he returns to my side.
He presses the towel to my head causing me to hiss. “Sorry.”
“What about you?” My gaze searches his face for any sign of injury.
“You clipped my chin. Pretty sure it hurt you more than me.” His eyes soften as he catches me staring.
And for some reason I just continue to stare. And so does he. We entered awkward territory at least five seconds ago, but neither one of us are breaking the connection. Fear ignites in my chest as Braden slides to the side, positioning himself between my legs. I’m telling myself that he’s just doing it to get a better angle for the ice. But that doesn’t explain why his other hand reaches up to tuck one of my curls behind my ear. Or why his thumb brushes across my jaw.
It doesn’t explain why his gaze drops to my lips for a split second, just to return to mine with a hungry edge.
Oh this is bad.
Did he lean in?
Oh God, why is my head tilting to the side?
Both of us are breathing like we’ve run a damn mile.
My brain is screaming abort! Abort! Abort! But my body has other ideas.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs when his face is so close he’s gone fuzzy.
The words are an icy shower. My head snaps back, bringing him into focus. Braden’s eyes are half-closed, but when the bag of veggies slips from his grip from my sudden movement, they snap open.
Why the hell would he say something like that? God, it’s exactly what Jesse would say before he would kiss me. Such a cheap line to get what he wants.
His eyebrows scrunch together as I nudge him out of the way and hop down. Dizziness momentarily forgotten as I run an aggravated hand down my braid and try to focus my thoughts. I can’t bring myself to look at Braden. Instead, I pick up the discarded package of peas, then toss them in the trash. Moving around the kitchen I can feel Braden’s eyes on me, but he hasn’t said a word. Probably for the best. For him that is. Not sure how much longer I can contain the rage building in me.
I grab two glasses out of the cabinet above the dishwasher and slam it shut. My thoughts might be out of whack but there’s one thing I know for sure. I’m not letting him ruin another meal.
“Stella…”
I hold up a hand, silencing him.
I circle around the kitchen table to retrieve the soda bottle. Might as well at least enjoy the thing that gave me what feels like a giant lump on my forehead and a super awkward encounter.
I’m half tempted to chuck the damn bottle at him, instead, I hover over the kitchen sink and pray that it had time to settle.
“Stella.” Braden’s body heat penetrates my back as he braces a hand on either side of me, gripping the sink. “I’m sorry. I thought for a minute that maybe…I thought I saw…” He clears his throat and leans away. “I’m gonna head out. See you in class Monday.”
I remain staring at the roll of paper towels over the sink until I hear the front door shut. Only then do I let out a shuddering breath. Chills creep up my spine at the lack of warmth. Well, that’s what I’m blaming it on at least. I don’t even want to think about the way my arms broke out in goose bumps when his breath blew across my ear. Or the way his fingers looked like they fought the urge to touch me the whole time he stood there.
And I definitely don’t want to think about the fact that if he hadn’t uttered those words, I would have pressed my lips to his and let consequences be damned.
“Why the sudden change of heart? You hate running,” Mom asks between gulps of water.
I couldn’t sleep last night. When I stumbled out into the living room as she was lacing
up her shoes at an ungodly hour this morning, I made the rash decision to join her on another one of her runs. I was hoping it would help clear my thoughts. It did the opposite.
“Just a change of pace.” I wipe a wet paper towel across my forehead, avoiding my mom’s gaze and the bump by my hairline hidden beneath a beanie.
There’s no way she bought that. We’re both off today so I don’t want to spend the entire time on the receiving end of a lecture or working with her to uncover my hidden feelings or whatever crap she likes to go on about.
To my surprise though, she doesn’t push. “Well, I do like having a running buddy.” She presses the lip of the sports bottle into the water spout on our fridge. “So what was with the bag of clothes in the trash?”
My hands freeze mid-finger comb. I tossed those evil red pants out along with most of the clothes hiding in the back of my closet. Of course this would be the one time she takes the trash out…
“Decluttering. Might as well get a head start. College will be here before we know it.” Totally buttering her up. The idea of me going off to college is her only dream.
“Why not donate them?”
Because no other girl needs the bad vibes those pants carry with them.
“Guess I didn’t think about it.”
“I have errands to run. I can drop them off at the thrift store on the way.” She gasps, then waves her hand through the air in excitement. “Why don’t we pick you up a few new things? We have a little extra spending money. You haven’t gone shopping in I don’t know how long.”
“I don’t need new clothes. Spend the money on you.”
“Come on. We can have a girls’ day!”
Oh nothing sounds worse. With my mom it translates into her prying and preaching. I love my mom to death, but she thinks she’s Oprah or something with the way she doles out advice.
I try not to wince. “I have homework I need to catch up on.”
“Oh, come on! A few hours and then you’ll have the rest of the night. We never get to spend any quality time together anymore.”
She’s right. We both have been working so much ever since I turned sixteen. When we’re not working, we’re talking school or bills or work schedules. We haven’t had a normal mom, daughter relationship in almost two years.