How to Kiss a Bad Boy

by Ashby, Amanda

  Just like Jackson.

  On cue, her phone beeped with a text message. It was him.

  Just parking the car. See you soon.

  Right on time, she replied and hurried downstairs to meet him. The place looked amazing. Tiny lanterns were strung up around the foyer and sitting room, and out in the back yard a fifties-style bar made out of cane had been set up.

  Lo and Johnny were talking to a couple of new arrivals in the foyer who were dressed as Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe. It wasn’t a costume party, but Frankie was well used to her aunt’s friends and didn’t blink.

  Jackson was standing at the door as she opened it.

  Her heart melted.

  Gone were his jeans and plain T-shirts, replaced with a pair of gray pants and a pale blue button-up. Had he done this just for her? His dark curls hung around his killer cheekbones, and his blue eyes were the color of a summer sky.

  “Wow. Frankie, you look—”

  “Weird? Scary? Curly?”

  “Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he said, still standing on the other side of the doorstep, his jaw slack.

  “That’s a very good answer,” she said, still adjusting to him. This was a different Jackson again. Not the guy in jeans or in the floral apron. “Come in.”

  He paused, as if unsure what would happen if he stepped across the threshold. She wanted to tease him about being a vampire, but stopped herself.

  Some new arrivals walked up the path, and he quickly stepped in. His hand grazed hers. The panic dissolved. What did it matter what dress she wore? As long as she was with him, everything was fine.

  “Hey,” he murmured for a second time, his voice low and gravelly. Her stomach flipped.

  “Hey.” She grinned and her fingers tightened in his. “Now, come outside and see the patio. It will blow your mind,” she said as she led him there.

  Old-fashioned beach chairs were spread out over the grass. Oil torches were dotted around like fireflies while the record player (yes, of course Lo still owned an original one) had stacks of records at one side, waiting for their turn.

  Lo and Johnny were by the sliding door, and Lo buried Jackson in a hug that made his cheeks go red, while Johnny shook his hand before checking if they wanted drinks. Frankie shook her head and said she had it all under control.

  “Sounds ominous,” Jackson said as they threaded past the growing crowds.

  She giggled. “I’m just saving you from the nonalcoholic punch. It’s orange and there are green things floating in it. Oh, and it smells like toothpaste. But there are a ton of sodas in the fridge.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, though his jaw was still clenched. Like he was uncomfortable. She tightened her grip on his hand. Most of the people there were talking about their vacation plans and restoring old cars. Jackson’s face was pale. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea?

  She started to head toward a love seat at the bottom of the garden when Lo called out.

  “Frankie. Can I steal you for five minutes?”

  “Sure,” she replied, and turned to Jackson. “I’m so sorry. I won’t be long.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He gave a quick shake of his head, sending his dark curls falling across his brow, almost hiding his eyes. Just like when she’d first met him. Her stomach tightened. He was already having a terrible time.

  She quickly scanned the patio and settled on Lo’s friend, Maggie, who’d done the catering for the night. She was with her new boyfriend, and they were laughing together. Frankie had only met him a couple of times, but he seemed nice.

  “Actually. Just let me introduce you to someone, then I know you’ll be in safe hands.”

  “Frankie, it’s okay—” he started to say just as Lo reappeared, giving her a pointed look.

  “I really don’t mind.” She quickly introduced them and then darted inside to see what Lo wanted. And in five minutes they’d be sitting on the love seat, and the rest of the night would be epic.

  xxxx

  This was a mistake.

  A big freaking mistake.

  Jackson toyed with the plate in his hand before searching the crowd for Frankie. His shirt was tight around his neck, and he longed to unbutton it. Scratch that. He longed to get rid of it and never wear it again. Having grease in his hair and wearing an apron was nothing compared to this. At work it was just him and Frankie.

  But this party?

  I should have stayed at home.

  Frankie was stuck with a friend of Lo’s, and she kept sending him apologetic looks. It had been like that the whole night. Not that it was her fault. She was Lo’s beloved niece, and these were Lo’s friends. They all knew each other, whereas he had nothing in common with any of them. Especially not the couple she’d first introduced him to.

  It had been the start of a painful conversation, and they’d made their excuses minutes later.

  At the other end of the patio, a karaoke machine appeared, and a roar of applause went up as people crowded around it, chattering about song choices.

  Someone bumped his arm, and the contents of the plate spilled down his shirt. It just about summed up the night. He steadied himself and beelined for the house to clean up. The bathroom was empty. He sponged the stain away as best he could.

  Where was his jacket when he needed it?

  He headed back out but then glanced at his wet shirt. He could just wait until it dried. The living room was empty, but the thought of sitting on the retro sofa, looking up at the decorated walls and matching curtains made his breathing speed up. Like he was being suffocated.

  He’d seen her house on the outside, but the inside was something else. Straight out of a magazine. Albeit a nineteen-fifties magazine. But still, it was…too much.

  He stalked to the front door.

  A few minutes while the shirt dried. And some fresh air. That’s what he needed.

  The green lawn was flat, but there was a bench seat over by a willow tree. He wandered over and tugged at the damn collar. He sucked in a breath of air. That’s better. Once he was sitting, he pulled out his phone and began to text. Just to let her know he hadn’t bailed.

  “What I want to know is what the hell is Frankie doing with Marty Lang’s kid?” a voice said from behind the side fence. They obviously had no idea he was sitting in the front lawn.

  Jackson’s blood froze, and the world began to spin. The voice belonged to the first guy he’d been introduced to.

  “Lo said he’s okay,” a woman answered, but it wasn’t convincing, and the first speaker just snorted.

  “I went to school with Marty, and his kid has the exact same look. No damn good.”

  The woman murmured a reply and then the voices drifted away.

  Jackson clenched his fists as his phone fell to the grass.

  Why was he even annoyed?

  After all, it had been happening his entire life. To him. And his mom. The only thing that surprised him was that he thought he could step out of his father’s shadow. Since when had that happened?

  But he knew the answer.

  Since he’d fallen for Frankie Hargreaves. So gorgeous, so funny…and so full of misguided optimism. She saw the world as she wanted it to be, rather than what it was.

  To her, he was a guy who could draw. Who had potential.

  Which meant she didn’t have a clue who he really was.

  I went to school with Marty, and his kid has the exact same look. No damn good.

  “There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I almost thought you’d left.” Frankie appeared. Her tan glowed against her white dress, and it almost set him on fire. She made him forget everything. But now he knew that wasn’t good.

  I can’t do this.

  “Yeah,” he said, not quite meeting her gaze as he scooped up his phone. “I had a headache. I was just about to text you. I might head off.”

  “You want to leave?” Disappointment marred her face. “I could get you a painkiller for the headache. It might help.”
<
br />   If only.

  “I don’t think so.” He got to his feet, realizing his shirt button was still undone at the collar and the front was covered in water. Not that it mattered. He never wanted to see the damn shirt again.

  He went to walk past her, and she let out a tiny gasp.

  “Jackson, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.” She wrapped her arms around her chest, as if she was cold, despite the warm night.

  Even this was wrong. Frankie didn’t belong in the darkness. She was made for lights and warmth and laughter. And that wasn’t him. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself he was more than just Marty Lang’s son, it was inescapable.

  Someone was always there to remind him. He’d seen it enough times with his mom. Enough times at school. Even with Tania. And yet Frankie had almost made him believe the outcome could be different.

  “It’s over.”

  “Just like that?” Her voice faltered, and he winced as if he’d been hit in the gut. Except the only one throwing punches was him.

  He didn’t bother to mention what he heard. What was the point? After all, they only said what everyone else had been thinking.

  “We’re from different worlds. You have Lo and your cupcakes and your happy life. You’ve seen my place.”

  “That doesn’t define who you are,” she insisted, and he choked back a bark of laughter. “You’re more than that. Your art. You could go to college. Study. Your future doesn’t have to be like it is now.”

  “My future?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Jeez, Frankie. Don’t you get it? I’m not going to college. At this rate I might not even finish senior year. My mom got fired.”

  “Fired? No. That’s terrible. When did it happen?”

  Hell. He hadn’t meant to say that. Still. It didn’t matter now.

  “Wednesday.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Hurt flashed in her eyes, changing them from ocean blue to a murky gray. The color of pain.

  Because I was embarrassed.

  “I’m telling you now. I can’t let my family down. I have responsibilities.” He gritted his teeth. It was all true…but it didn’t help. What was the old cliché? The higher you climb, the further you fall. And right now, it was like he’d been smashed at the bottom of a cliff.

  “I know that, Jackson.”

  “Do you?”

  She flinched. “What’s that meant to mean?”

  “Your summer plans involved trying to kiss a boy. I’ve got a few more things to worry about.”

  “That’s not fair.” Tears rimmed her eyes, and something twisted in his gut. He kept saying he didn’t want to be like his dad. But so far his track record wasn’t looking great. What had Frankie ever done to him? Except kid herself into believing he was a nice guy.

  “Life’s not fair.” He turned away, not sure he could stand looking at her as her face crumpled. It was for the best. She’s better off without me. “I’m sorry. I w—”

  He broke off. What was the point of saying what he wished for? After all, that’s what had gotten him into this whole mess in the first place.

  From now on, he couldn’t afford to make plans, to have dreams. He needed to stay focused. After all, no one else forgot who he was, so why should he?

  “Please don’t,” she said in a small voice. It was so un-Frankie-like that he had to clench his fists to stop from taking it all back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said before walking to his car. How many times had he said sorry to her? That alone proved it had all been a mistake. Another guy wouldn’t have his ex-girlfriend confronting them. Wouldn’t get mad because someone tried to sell one of his pictures. Wouldn’t always be the son of a murderer.

  Then he fumbled for his keys and drove away before he could even think about looking back.

  And it sucked.

  11

  Frankie stepped out of the shower on Sunday night. She hadn’t wanted one, but it was the only way she could stop herself from obsessively scanning her phone for a text. A message to let her know he’d been joking. That it had all been a terrible mistake.

  But there had been nothing.

  Worst day off ever.

  She reached for a towel and dried herself, resisting the urge to look in the mirror and see just how red and swollen her eyes were. When Aaron had humiliated her, she’d been upset for sure, but it had only gone skin-deep. This was right down to the core. Etched into her bones.

  And there wouldn’t be any Jackson to help her recover.

  Because he dumped me.

  Everything she’d first thought about him had been true. He might have had better manners than some bad boys, might even have been sweet and kind, but underneath he was just like her mom’s ex.

  She’d trusted him, and he’d hurt her.

  How could she have fallen for him?

  Cold anger bristled as she shrugged on a robe and marched to the hair dryer. It took fifteen minutes to get it as straight as possible. No way was she leaving it natural just because Jackson liked it.

  From tomorrow when they were back at work, she would be keeping her distance. They could go back to the original plan of staying out of each other’s way. She sat down on the bed just as Lo poked her head in the room. Frankie was well aware of her red eyes. She hadn’t told her aunt what had happened because she didn’t want to ruin Lo’s and Johnny’s blissful mood.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.” She shrugged and wondered if she could get away with wearing sunglasses in her room to hide the fact she’d been crying. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve just had a phone call. From Jackson.”

  “You have?” Despite the lectures she’d been giving herself all day, hope flared in her chest. “Did he want to speak to me?”

  To say it had all been a mistake.

  That he was sorry.

  That—

  “Not exactly.” Lo’s emerald eyes looked sorrowful. “He wanted to tell me he was quitting.”

  The room spun, and Frankie clutched at the corner of the bed.

  So much for her dignified distance.

  “What? Why?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me. He isn’t much of a talker at the best of times. Did something happen last night? I thought the pair of you were—”

  “We’re not. Well…we almost were. But it was never official.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

  That made two of them.

  “It’s okay.” She forced the words out, ignoring how they caught in her throat.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “Not really,” she said and rubbed her brow. She’d been dreading having to work with him, but she hadn’t thought he’d quit. Not when he needed the money. And his mom had just lost her job. “That isn’t what I wanted. Sh-should I talk to him?”

  “I don’t think it would do any good. I wasn’t sure why he was quitting, but Johnny had told me things were tight for him at home, so I tried to see if he wanted to work in the kitchen with me. But he said no. Said he had some construction work.”

  Her stomach plummeted. Construction work. With Tania’s father.

  The thing he’d sworn he’d never do again.

  Had everything been a lie?

  “Oh. I-I think he did that last summer. I guess he was sick of wearing a floral apron,” she said in a casual voice.

  “I guess so.” Lo scanned her face, as if searching for clues. Then she sighed. “I’ll have to send Kenneth over to help out until I can hire someone else.”

  “Fine,” she replied as she suddenly felt tired, hurt, and ready to bury her head under her comforter for the next million years. Jackson had done the one thing he promised he wouldn’t do.

  He’d bailed on her.

  This is what happens when you follow your heart.

  xxxx

  If staring into space was an Olympic sport, Frankie would have made a podium finish. The last of the light had gone, and the strange spa
ce between day and night had turned the sky a smudgy purple. Just the color of her bruised heart. She walked away from her bedroom window and lay down on her bed.

  She’d never see him again. Not in Rosie, and she didn’t doubt that at school he’d make sure he stayed out of her way.

  Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten all day.

  She glanced at the time. It was eight at night.

  Frankie and her aunt usually took it in turns to cook, and Lo had said something about quiche. Johnny had left earlier in the day, which meant it would just be the two of them. She hauled herself up. Her body was heavy. Like walking was too much effort. Stupid gravity.

  If Via’s superpower was hiding from Hudson, Frankie’s was walking like a zombie.

  The stairway was dark, and Lo’s Everly Brothers record was stuck, filling the house with an eerie sound.

  “Lo,” she called as she walked into the living room and flicked on the light. “Are you…”

  The words trailed off, and Frankie froze.

  Lo was sprawled out on the sofa. Her breathing was shallow, and her skin was unnaturally white. On the floor was a glass, and water seeped into the carpet.

  No, no, no.

  Blood drained from her face, and she forced her zombie limbs to work. It was like a bad dream, where she wanted to run but couldn’t lift her legs. Why couldn’t she move? Finally she managed to make her body work and reached Lo’s side.

  “It’s okay,” she said, too scared to even cry. Her hands shook as she fumbled for her phone and called an ambulance. “It’s okay, Lo. It’s okay.”

  Her aunt managed to open an eye, but it was glassy, and her unfocused gaze made her seem like she was a million miles away. Frankie was going to be sick.

  Don’t think about it. But she couldn’t stop herself.

  She’d seen this once before.

  xxxx

  Jackson leaned back in the sand. It was still warm from the day, though night was falling, and the place was deserted. The sky was a purple blaze. He’d always drawn in pencil but lately he had an overwhelming urge to try colors.