Babydoll

  I took the longest, hottest shower I could stand and had a hot cup of tea but I was still wired. The night had been too eventful. I was in front of my computer typing out a new story that had been in the back of my brain all week when I heard the tapping on my window. The last thing I expect to see when I pulled back the curtain were familiar blue eyes. I was so surprised I just stood there looking shocked until he motioned, kind of impatiently, for me to open the window.

  I pushed it up and stepped out of the way as he swung long legs over the sill and into my room. Lane Campbell was in my bed room. My heart jumped into my throat.

  "Hey," he said, with a smile, after he closed the window behind him.

  "Hey," I replied. "What are you doing here?"

  "I made you this," he said, and pulled a jewel case out of the waistband of his jeans.

  Bailey's Mix. He had amazing penmanship. It wasn’t surprising.

  He slid around me and proceeded to kick off his Chucks. He dropped down on my bed with his hands tucked behind his head, completely at ease.

  Lane Campbell was on my bed. I was thinking I must have died and that was the afterlife. Or maybe Luke and I had gotten into an accident on the way home and I was having a crazy ass coma dream. I couldn’t fathom that Lane being there was real life.

  "You couldn't give it to me tomorrow?" I asked. I sat down on the edge of the bed, careful to keep some space between us.

  He shrugged.

  "Why wait?" he asked, with a grin.

  "Because it's the middle of the night and my dad would shoot you in the face if he caught you in here," I told him, looking at him like he had lost his mind.

  He grinned.

  "Could you imagine the headline? Local teen dies in the bed of police officer’s daughter," he said.

  I couldn’t help but giggle.

  "You are crazy," I said, shaking my head at him.

  He batted his eyes at me.

  "Crazy for you," he said.

  I couldn’t stop the eye roll. He was so disarming like that, relaxed and teasing, the butterfly wings in my belly fluttered to life. It occurred to me to wonder what he thought would be going on with him in my bedroom. Panic about broken promises started to appeared at the edges of my consciousness. As if he was aware of my thoughts, he sat up with his back against the headboard and patted the bed next to him.

  "Come here, I'll tell you about the tracks," he said.

  So I ignored the panic and crawled over next to him. Casually, comfortably he dropped one arm around my shoulders. With the other hand he gestured to the case in his lap as he told me about the songs. Where he had first heard them, what he liked about them, and what he thought I would like about them.

  I should have been worried that we would fall asleep and my dad would kill us both. I should have been concerned with the fact that the boy next to me had a girlfriend. I should have made myself think about the promise I made to my best friend to stay away from her brother. I should have spared a thought or two about sweet Logan who had continued to text me that night about a future we didn’t have together. I shouldn't have let him into my room. I shouldn’t have been sitting, cuddled close to his side. But when he talked about the songs his fingers tapped out rhythms on my bare shoulder. And he smelled so clean. And his voice was so warm. Everything else just went away.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  * * *

  "Sometimes I just want him to talk about something other than music. Like if I bring up a movie I want to see don't tell me about this amazing composition on the soundtrack. Just say 'yeah, let's go see it'. I mean it's great that he has passion but for fucks sake," Lucy finished her breathless rant with a sigh.

  We were laying side by side on her bed with freshly pedicured feet propped on her foot board. Apparently, even the golden couple had their problems. That was hard information for me to process.

  "Does that make me an asshole?" She asked.

  She turned her head to the side and looked at me with big eyes. I shook my head. Even if it really did, I would have lied through my teeth. I was such a sucker for Campbell charm.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. I hated seeing my girl in a sad state. I hated that I was in my very own state. We had only been back in school a month and I wished I could sink my claws back into summer and drag it back. I hadn’t been ready to trade the beach for the classroom. I hadn’t wanted to swap swimsuits for jeans. And I really, really hadn’t been ready to be back in a reality where I had to see Allyson Smith with her boyfriend every day.

  I originally thought that night Lane showed up at my window with the disc he made me was some weird one-time thing. I was wrong. Two nights later he showed up again. A tap, tap, tap on the window prompted me to put my book down and climb out of bed.

  "Hey, pretty," he said, as he crawled in.

  "Hi," I replied. "Funny meeting you here."

  He just smiled and headed toward my bed.

  "I have something for you," he said, his back to me as he kicked out of his shoes.

  "What?" I asked, a curious, happy smile tugging up my lips.

  He spared me a glance and shook his head.

  "Not you," he told me, making my brow furrow. He cast his glance toward to the bed. "You."

  As he spoke he reached down to scoop up my fur-ball. Cat tucked in the crook of his right arm, he settled back against my pillows and dug a treasure out of his pocket with his left. A little gray mouse attached to a blue ribbon. He dangled it in front of Shakes' nose and the cat went into play mode. The sound of Lane's chuckle made my heart happy thump.

  We stayed up until the sun crept through the window. We talked about a thousand things that didn't matter and played with Shakes until he was exhausted. It was another perfect night. It was amazing how a day could wear on and completely unravel how amazing the night before was.

  "She has risen," my dad remarked dryly, when I walked in the kitchen around one in the afternoon the next day.

  I shrugged.

  "Good book," I offered as a half-ass explanation.

  "Soon you'll need to get back into a school routine," he said.

  "Sure," I agreed, halfheartedly munching on some string cheese. I turned to head back to my room but stopped when my dad said my name.

  "Talk to me for a minute," he said, nodding to a chair across from him.

  Nervousness started to build in my stomach. Surely he didn't hear my late night visitor or he would have busted us in the act. I dropped into the chair making sure to keep my face straight. He was quiet for a moment. That was his go-to technique for making a perp sweat. Being a cop’s kid meant you were always a suspect.

  "You’ve been friends with Lucy Campbell for a long time," he remarked.

  I simply looked back. Anything you say could and will be used against you, I thought to myself. Like I expected, he eventually went on to ask a real question.

  "What about those boys?" He asked.

  "Her brothers?" I replied, my brow furrowing.

  Dad nodded.

  "They're ok," I said, cautiously.

  He nodded thoughtfully.

  "The older one, the football player, he's a good kid," he said. I nodded, a small smile creeping up. Everyone loved my non-blood big brother. But my gnawing, antsy feeling continued to grow. "But that other one, the one that got sent off, that kid is bad news."

  Twenty pounds of bricks dropped into the pit of my stomach. Outwardly, I looked confused.

  "What'd he do this time?" I asked, with just a touch of curious indifference.

  This time Dad waited me out.

  "Did he get arrested?" I asked.

  He shook his head.

  "No, not yet," he allowed.

  My eyes popped wide. What the hell?

  "Come on, Dad, you can’t hint around like that and not fill me in. Is he like some teenage mob boss or something?" I asked. I knew I had to keep it light and make sure I seemed distanced from the whole thing.

  My dad rolled his eyes.r />
  "Just keep away from that kid," he said.

  "Daaaaaaaaad," I whined.

  He shook his head.

  "Let's just say he's not keeping the most upstanding company," he said. "You keep your distance from that boy."

  My mob joke suddenly felt a lot less funny.

  "What's that mean?" I asked.

  "It means you stay away from him," he said, in his “that’s final” voice.

  "Does that mean I can’t stay with Lucy? Because that’s not fair. You can’t hold something her stupid brother did against her," I said.

  My dad studied me for a minute. A very, very long minute.

  "I put a lot of trust in you Bailey," he said.

  I nodded.

  "You've never given me a reason not to. I trust that you understand I'm serious about that boy. I won't keep you from your friend but you keep your distance from him," he said.

  I felt a lump growing in my throat. A big, thick lump of guilt. I nodded again. My dad nodded back this time. He stood and stepped over to kiss my forehead before heading to the living room to turn on the TV. I sat for a while just staring at my hands.

  I really considered everything my dad said. I felt I owed him that much. I had seen what no account dads were like. I had wiped plenty of Haley's tears over how her dad had just faded away after her parents split. I hated the idea of disappointing mine. My dad was a good dad. But I also hated there being some mysterious reason why I shouldn't see Lane. It was bad enough that our late night visits felt like telling my best friend lies but I thought maybe I could find a way to explain it to Lucy. If I ever figured out what it was. But trying to make my dad understand would be impossible.

  That week faded into the next without any more knocks on my window. I was equal parts relieved and disappointed. But when he showed up the next week I didn't hesitate to move right over and make room for him in my bed. He climbed in, carefully, with a wince.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  He didn’t answer. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the head board.

  "Lane?"

  He opened his eyes and gave me a weary smile. He tugged the hem of his black t-shirt up for me to look. His ribs were multi-colored. Reds and fading yellows. The kind of bruises that hurt to look at. I gasped.

  "What the hell?" I asked, eyes wide with alarm.

  He snorted a small laugh and smirked.

  "Business," he said.

  We were both quiet then. My mind wandered back to the kitchen conversation with my dad.

  "My dad said I should stay away from you," I said, quietly.

  The weary smile appeared again. This time it came with a shrug.

  "He's right," he said.

  And that was how it should have ended. I should have told him that I didn’t want to be caught up in whatever he was involved in and that he had to leave. I should have been done with the whole thing. But the thought of not seeing him in my bed, of not feeling his warmth at my side, of not hearing his honey voice before I slipped into dream brought a sting to my eyes. Just like when you knew that last bite of dessert was going to make you sick but you just had to have it anyway. I was already losing the battle with my smarter self, but when he turned to me and pleaded with those eyes I loved so much, I was completely done.

  "You gonna tell me to leave?" he asked, softly.

  I sighed.

  "No," I said. "Are you going to tell me where you got the bruises?"

  He smiled and leaned his head on my shoulder.

  "No," he said. "You know there's another Saw sequel coming out in October?"

  I laughed. I laughed because he was determined to change the subject and stay a mystery. I laughed because it was crazy for us to keep doing this. I laughed because I knew Lane Campbell had me wrapped around his little finger no matter how hard I tried to play it cool. And I laughed because really, how many of those damn movies were they planning on making?

  "I'm sorry, Baby-doll, this is stupid," Lucy sighed, presently, from my lap, drawing me out of my mental replay.

  "Its fine," I told her, shaking my head. "I've got a lot on my mind right now."

  She sighed again and nodded.

  "Haley?" she asked.

  Then it was my turn to sigh. As if the Lane thing wasn’t taking up enough space in my head, my other best friend had been MIA a lot. She been hanging out with some interesting people. And by interesting I meant sketchy as hell. There was a girl named Makenna that particularly rubbed me the wrong way. Every little thing about the girl just got on my nerves. She showed more skin than she covered and trying to have a conversation with her was like trying to talk to a hamster with ADHD.

  I tried to be nice when she sat with us at lunch but I always felt myself looking at her like she was bat-shit crazy every time she opened her mouth. I couldn’t deal with her twitchy all-over-the-placeness. Even worse was when Haley acted the same way, all jittery and unfocused. Lucy swore they were on some shit. Like bad shit. Like little white lines of bad shit. But I had a hard time believing Haley would be caught up in that kind of crazy. We were going to have a come to Jesus with her about it that night but she had rain checked us at the last minute.

  "Do you really think she's doing… that?" I asked Lucy. I couldn’t even bring myself to say it.

  "Do I think she's getting coked out?" Lucy said, giving me a no shit look.

  I closed my eyes and leaned back against the fluffy pillows. Sometimes I felt like I was losing Haley to the dark side. I kept digging my heels in because I remembered Barbies, and braiding hair and sleepovers, watching horror movies for the first time. I hated when her violet eyes were more black than pretty. I hated when I couldn’t enjoy her bitchy commentary because she couldn’t concentrate.

  "This is stupid," Lucy said again and hopped up. She stepped over to the stereo and cranked up Sublime. It was the sound of summer that I missed so much.

  She grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. We shook our hips and twirled around singing about how second gear was such a turn on. And even though it didn’t give resolution, the music soothed.

  B

  "He's doing it again," Haley told me, with a grin.

  Her light eyes were pretty-shiny and I couldn’t help but grin back even though I didn’t want to hear what she was saying.

  "Shut it, Blondie," I told her.

  "Seriously, it's like every five seconds he's looking over here," she said.

  I threw a fry at her. Apparently, Chad Collins had a thing for me. How someone I went to school with since junior high suddenly wanted to get with me I don't know. Who suddenly develops a crush on someone they’ve known for so long?

  "Maybe you should give him a chance," Lucy said, not helpfully.

  "I think I'll pass," I said, dragging a fry through my ketchup and popping it in my mouth.

  "Why are you anti Collins?" Haley asked. "I mean he's a perfectly fine male specimen."

  She was right. Chad Collins was the quintessential American hottie. There was American flag in his blonde hair and apple pie in his blue eyes. He was Captain American riding an eagle on the fourth of July. I should have been flattered that he was into me. I'm just wasn’t.

  "I don't know. He's just Collins," I reply.

  "That’s stupid," my friend said, shaking her head.

  "I think you should at least go out with him once. Didn't he invite you to that party on Friday?" Lucy encouraged.

  I shrugged.

  "Yeah, kinda," I said.

  "Babe, you haven’t been out with anyone since Logan this summer. And I'm not really sure why you got rid of him," she said. "He was really sweet."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "We had jack and shit in common," I said.

  I knew what the truth was. Chad was boring. Logan was boring. What wasn’t boring was the boy who showed up at my house in the middle of the night demanding my attention. The previous Saturday night Lane had popped up while I was having a midnight writing session. He amused himself wi
th his phone when I told him I just wanted to finish up but that didn't last long at all.

  "Stop fabricating your memoirs and come talk to me, Baby-doll," he whined. I knew by the tone of his voice arguing was useless. After I exited the document I crossed to my bed and climbed up in front of him. He sat up and we faced each other, sitting Indian style.

  "Ok, what's the all-time best Starburst flavor?" I asked.

  He pondered the question for a moment.

  "Orange," he replied, with a decisive nod.

  I wrinkled my nose. Seriously?

  "Are you high? Strawberry is the best flavor hands down," I told him, shaking my head at his craziness.

  He rolled his eyes.

  "Best kind of pie?" He asked.

  I didn't hesitate. You could never hesitate about pie

  "Apple."

  He smirked.

  "Of course. All American Apple Pie Baby-doll," he teased.

  I held up my hand to stop his noise.

  "Seriously, hot apple pie out of the oven, topped with caramel sauce. Are you telling me you wouldn't gorge yourself on that?"

  "You have a point," he conceded.

  "What about you?" I asked.

  His bad boy smirk came into full affect. He even threw in a couple of pervy eyebrow raises.

  "Cherry," he said.

  I rolled my eyes and smacked him on the shoulder. He caught my hand and pulled me forward. He unfolded his long legs and pulled me to him. My back to his chest, his arms around my middle. His chin rested on the top of my head. I could feel his heartbeat. I could hear his breath. I felt so damn at home. We sat in comfortable silence for a couple of moments.

  "If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?" He asked.

  "To see the Leaning Tower of Pisa," I replied. "I want to take that silly tourist picture where you look like your holding it up."

  I could feel his smile.

  "I want to go to the Seychelles islands and become a beach bum. Make a living giving surfing lessons and grow my hair out," he said.

  I reached a hand up behind me and scratched my nails through his mop.

  "You'd look like a long lost member of Motley Crue," I told him.