Stupid Girl

by Cindy Miles

  Before I could say anything, though, two guys slid into the booth with us. The one who sat beside me draped his arm on the bench rest behind my head. He regarded me with a hooded gaze.

  “Bro, what’s up?” the one beside Brax said.

  I looked at Brax, and he bumped knuckles with the guy. The flirtatious look in Brax’s eyes faded, replaced with something else. Arrogance? “Kenny, Jake,” he said. He inclined his head toward me. “Olivia Beaumont.”

  I gave each one a quick glance. “Hi,” I said to both. My internal human measuring device turned on, and immediately I could tell both guys made me feel cagey.

  The one guy beside me, Kenny, lifted my braid. “We’re Brax’s frat brothers. He’s just too rude to tell you that part. So, Olivia Beaumont. Where’re you from?”

  I shot a fast look at Brax, and I was surprised to see his eyes fastened on Kenny’s hand—on my braid.

  “Are all the girls from your hometown cute little things with freckles and braids?” Jake asked.

  Kenny actually lifted my braid to his nose and sniffed it. “Or just you?”

  Trapped by the small space of the booth, panic rose in my throat. Broken memories from the year before slammed into me, and pure fear and reaction shrugged over my shoulders like a sopping wet blanket. I reared my elbow back to ram him in the gut, but Brax’s words stopped me.

  “Get your fuckin’ hand outta her hair, Kenny, before I break your fuckin’ face against this table here,” Brax said. His feral eyes flashed fury. He didn’t blink, breathe, or flinch. He just stared fire at Kenny. It was the most intense, intimidating look I’d ever seen. On anyone. And every one of my brothers had a fierce look when they wanted. Brax’s voice was stone-cold dead serious. Lethal and chilling.

  It shocked me. My earlier reservations returned full force. Yes. Brax had demons. He hid them well, but not well enough. I was looking at them right now, and they were staring back. Hard.

  Kenny dropped my braid fast, scooted away from me, and held up his hands in defense. “Whoa, bro, take it easy,” he said. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” Kenny coughed. “Yeah, me and Jake was just riding by and saw your bike, thought we’d see what you were doing.” He looked at me. “Sorry, Olivia. Just playin’ around is all.”

  “No problem,” I answered quietly, although I didn’t believe him, not for a second. My heart pounded, and I struggled to keep them from noticing my breath coming faster. When I looked back at Brax, his eyes were still locked onto Kenny, angry and furious. Why, I wondered?

  Kenny’s lip curled in a not-so-attractive grin at Brax. “All right, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Jenks, I’ll let Collins know we, uh,” he glanced at me, “bumped into you two. Jake, let’s bounce.”

  They both slid from the booth, and Jake glanced at Brax. “Kick ass pitchin’ today, bro. You smoked the hell out of it.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Brax said, still eyeing Kenny.

  Without another word, Jake and Kenny left.

  Brax’s gaze stared them down until they were out of sight.

  “What was that all about?” I asked calmly. I hope Brax hadn’t noticed the sheer dread Kenny had caused in me; I didn’t want to make a big deal about it. That would only raise questions, and I wasn’t willing to give any answers. So I thought making light of it all and hiding the fact that I’d almost had a panic attack was the best route. “I thought he was going to start chewing on my hair.” I laughed softly, forced, and it felt as fake as it actually was. “I was almost compelled to use my safe word.”

  For a second, Brax didn’t respond. Those ghostly eyes were hardened, terrifying. Then, he took a visible deep breath in, closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened again and focused on me, they were clear, bright, and most of the fury had disappeared. But it was still there, the anger. Simmering in those odd blue orbs. “Kenny’s a fuckin’ prick, Gracie. Excuse my French, but he is.”

  Before I thought about it, I’d reached across the table and grazed his knuckles with my fingertips. “It’s okay. Really. Forget about it.”

  Just that fast, Brax’s eyes went from clear to smoky gray-blue. The cocky sly half-grin was back. He looked down at my fingers, then back to me. “What’s your safe word?”

  I lowered my hand and met his gaze square-on. “It wouldn’t be a safe word if I told you, would it?”

  A slow, wolfish smirk curled his sexy lips up in the corners. “You touch me like that again, Gracie Beaumont, and you’re gonna need a helluva lot more than a safe word.” He leaned back and studied me for several uncomfortable moments, and his eyes never left mine, never wavered, not once. “Now how ’bout you tell me why you got that wild ass look in your eye when Kenny grabbed your hair?”

  As those severe blue eyes examined me, awaiting my response, I realized something extremely important about Brax. His perception level was way higher than I’d thought. He’d seemed so occupied in staring down his obnoxious frat brother that I hadn’t noticed the depth of intensity in which he simultaneously studied me. That relentless scrutiny focused, measured, weighed as he stared, and while those ethereal eyes promoted his peculiar looks I immediately knew one thing for absolute sure. Brax Jenkins was not an empty-headed, popular, tattooed man slut of a baseball jock. He was exceptionally clever. Intelligent. I could see it in his watchful, alert gaze.

  But I was smart, too, and wasn’t about to reveal my secrets to a virtual stranger. No matter how oddly drawn to him I was. Maybe, with a little luck, my apprehension could be successfully masked, because the less of my horrific senior year in high school anyone knew, the better. Pasting a smile to my face, I straightened in the booth, fixed a confident stare to my gaze and answered his question. “I told you, I’m not like the typical giggly partying flirtatious college girls you usually meet. I just don’t like strange guys crowding my personal space, is all.”

  Brax studied me for several seconds, his eyes fixed and concentrating on mine. I knew he was trying to figure me out, and I hoped with all mighty hope he failed. Finally, he ducked his head, as if trying to get a better view from my chin up. “All right, Gracie,” he said in an even, low tone. Then his crooked mouth lifted at the corner, puckering the skin around the scar on his cheek. It made him look fierce and sexy at the same time. He leaned toward me, eyes never leaving mine. “I crowded you.”

  Although I made a conscious effort not to fidget under Brax’s scrutiny, I couldn’t help the flush of fire that raced up my neck and pooled in my cheeks. The heat pouring through the pores of my skin actually stung, so I knew I was probably beet red. And by the way Brax’s grin lifted a little higher at the corner, he hadn’t missed it, either. Enjoying it a little too much, I’d even say. I did my best to shrug off my reaction, and drew a calming breath in, nice and slow. “I guess I just don’t feel threatened by you,” I smiled, “since we’re only friends and all.” Stranger yet, I actually didn’t feel threatened.

  Brax’s smile didn’t fade. “And all, huh?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Just a figure of speech.” I shifted in my booth seat, tucking my foot under my bottom, determined to shift gears from myself. “So do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  Something faint, ghostly, crossed Brax’s features. He didn’t look away from me, but I saw the change, and it reminded me of a fast storm brewing in the ocean. Bright and sunny one second, clouds swirling overhead the next. He rapped his fingertips against the table between us, making a thudding sound. “Three brothers, one sister,” he said. Brotha. Sista. Then, the confident arrogance was back, and his eyes cleared. “They’re older, doing their own thing.” His jutted his chin. “I’m what you’d call the black sheep of the family.”

  My brows knitted as I gave him a puzzled look. “Not too black if you’ve earned yourself a baseball scholarship. Besides. You may be charming but you can’t charm your way through academics.” I pursed my lips. “I’m starting to think you’re really just a geek beneath a tattooed gangster disguise.” A seriously phenomenal disguise
, too, I thought, as my stare drifted from one piece of inked body art to the next.

  Brax’s amused look made his eyes dance. “You think I look like a gangster, Gracie?” Gangsta.

  My gaze raked over his inked knuckles, then I looked up and shrugged. “Yeah, a little.”

  “And yet you climbed on the back of my bike and left campus.” Brax rubbed his chin with his thumb. “With nothing more than your little purse and a safe word. Interesting.” He inclined his head. “Unless you’re packin’.”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “I said you looked like a gangster. Not that I thought you were one.”

  Brax’s white teeth flashed behind his lips. “Looks can be deceiving, Gracie. Remember that.”

  From his tattoos, dark hair, and vaporous blue eyes, to the silvery scars that marred his skin, I absolutely wondered about that.

  “Here’s your check, guys,” our waiter said. He was walking toward me and slowed just long enough to slip the plastic holder with the receipt onto the table. Just as he leaned, the platter of drinks he was carrying tipped, too, and a tall glass fell. A gush of ice and soda splashed over the front of my top and soaked my skin.

  I gasped and jumped back in surprise.

  “Oh, hell!” the waiter said. “Damn, I’m sorry darlin’! Let me get you a towel.”

  “I got it, man,” Brax said, eased out of the booth and grabbed a handful of napkins from the waiter’s stand. He handed them to me and embarrassment flooded my face once more as I patted my sticky wet chest. My blouse clung to my skin.

  “Thanks,” I told Brax. I glanced around until I found the restrooms. “I’ll just go rinse off a little.” Scooting from the booth, my eyes darted to Brax, and laughter danced in his eyes. I skirted the bar and down the hallway leading to the restrooms. Finding the ladies room, I couldn’t get inside quick enough. It was just spilled soda. I’d been thrown face-first in horse poop my whole life, but this had embarrassed me just the same. Probably because it’d happened in front of Brax, and he seemed to think it was so funny. I stared at my reddened face in the mirror, then down to the soaked material of my floral shirt. Wetting several paper towels, I got the sticky off my skin and managed to mop up what I could of the drink. Balling up the used paper, I tossed them into the trash and pushed open the door.

  “Hey, Livvy,” a voice said smoothly, and my head snapped up. Even when my vision zoned in, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. Who, rather.

  Kelsy Evans leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded casually over his chest, eyes dead on mine. Cold fear and panic replaced my easy-going spirit from before, and I froze. My brain scrambled around, trying to make sense of who I was suddenly face to face with. How could this be? God, how was he here? Inside, my brain jumbled into a ball of tangled barbed wire. I wanted to run, run fast and far, but that message didn’t make it to the muscles in my feet, my legs. I couldn’t move. Not a single inch.

  And he knew it. Kelsy’s mouth smirked into what I once thought was a charming smile. “Funny running into you here, huh? God, it’s what? Like four hours from home?”

  My mouth went dry as no words formed. I could do nothing more than stare at him. The narrow hallway, with its blue stained concrete walls and old black-framed photographs of fishing boats, floated in and out of my peripheral. But my gaze remained mercilessly locked onto his. I didn’t want to look at him. But I did.

  Kelsy widened his eyes, and it made him have a shocked look on his tanned face. But I immediately knew it was as fake as that smirk. “Oh—don’t tell me you’re at Winston? Holy shit, no way.” He pressed his big-knuckled hand to over his heart and leaned forward. “Now what kind of good fuckin’ luck is that, huh? That we’d end up at the same school? Come here, girl, don’t be such a stranger,” he said, and the air completely stopped in my windpipe as he pulled my body against his into a tight embrace. I stood there as he squeezed around me, still as a scarecrow and just as lifeless. He buried his nose into the hollow of my neck and inhaled, exhaled deeply, and his breath rustled the curls at my nape. “Damn, Livvy, you still smell like daisies and sunshine.” His hand felt its way down my arm, and his fingers brushed my ring. “Still wearing this old thing, darlin’?” He whispered. “Why didn’t you return any of my calls, Liv?” He buried deeper into my neck. “You didn’t have to ignore me.”

  It started as a low, distant roar, somewhere deep within me like a brewing thunderstorm, and it built and built and rolled upward through my stomach until I felt it pounding against my chest. Without thinking, my hands found strength and before I knew it, they were between our bodies, pressing against Kelsy’s chest. I pushed.

  “Stay away from me,” I said quietly, and weak. I couldn’t look him in the eye anymore, so I stared past him, over his shoulder, and fixed my gaze on the square blue and white tiles on the floor. Without another word, I moved past him. I thought at first he’d let me go, leave me alone, but the second my body evened up with the end of the short corridor, his voice fell over me. Not loud. Deadly sober.

  “Not in this lifetime, Olivia Beaumont.” A stern yet mocking tone deepened his already-heavy Texas drawl, and it followed me around the corner, in my mind, even as I made my way through the tables and away from the restrooms. My insides felt washed out, and cold, and full of dread and that little thing you get in the pit of your stomach when you know something’s just not right.

  And never will be.

  Kelsy Evans was here. At Winston. For a brief second, I stopped, and my hand grasped the wooden partition separating the dining room from the kitchen. Inside, I sagged, and tried to breathe, tried to look normal. Unaffected. Just a few more breaths and I’d be good.

  Oh, God …

  Across the room, I saw our booth, and Brax’s dark head turned toward the window as he faced away from me. I had to go to him. Act as if nothing was wrong. It’d been a mistake, coming here, with him. Never should I have let my guard down. Class, school, study, repeat. No socializing. Not even with a smooth-talking Southie—no matter that he put me at ease and made me laugh. It’d been a mistake. Had I not agreed, and come to this place, I wouldn’t have encountered Kelsy, and I’d have stayed safe. Now? Slowly, my feet moved, and by the time I got to the booth, I pasted a smile to my face and leaned across my seat, gathering my jacket and bag. “Thanks for dinner,” I said, and my eyes skittered across to Brax’s chest and tattooed forearms, which rested casually on the tabletop. Anywhere but his eyes. “I’d better get back, though.” I huffed a sigh. “First day of school tomorrow, plus work.” Standing, I shrugged into my jacket and fidgeted with my purse. I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

  “You okay, Gracie?”

  The raspy voice, tinged with concern, stopped my fidgeting, just long enough for me to slip a quick look in his direction. His brows were jutted together, narrowing his eyes and making the skin crinkle at the corners. He didn’t believe me, I knew it. A slight noise bubbled out of my throat that resembled a strangled chuckle. “Oh, sure. I’m just tired, I guess. Kind of nervous about first day of class. You know?”

  Back to the fidgeting, I adjusted the low waist of my jeans, smoothed my damp blouse, and glanced down at my toes, snuggled into my sandals. I looked out the window, then just … started walking toward the door, because Brax wasn’t budging from his seat. And I had to get out. Now.

  By the time I reached the exit door, Brax’s tattooed arm reached in front of me and opened it. To his credit, he didn’t say anything, but I could feel it in the air around us. He knew I was unsettled, and I could do nothing but silently pray he’d just let it go.

  Just as I was pulling on my helmet, and Brax was already straddling the bike, a voice reached through the heavy, humid air of the parking lot. It sent a streak of fear down my spine.

  “Hey, Livvy, see you at school, huh?” Kelsy Evans said.

  My eyes darted to that voice, and Kelsy was standing at the door of his truck. The big, black obnoxious Ford was the same one he
’d driven in high school. Quickly, I turned my gaze from him, from that truck, and from the horrible memories both stirred inside of me. Fear. Revulsion. Shame. Those things had bound to my DNA, and I had to fight every day not to let it take over me. My body moved to climb onto Brax’s bike before my eyes registered the fact that Brax was no longer on it. He stood beside me, his presence looming and heavy and invasive and comforting, his large palm pressing against my lower back. I looked up at him then, and the muscles in his jaw flinched. Although he wore dark shades, I knew his gaze drifted toward Kelsy.

  “You know that guy, Gracie?” His voice was scratchy and low, and a little edgy.

  I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t seem to help it when my eyes moved to look at Kelsy Evans. And when I did, even from where I stood, I could see the whites of his teeth as his lips pulled away from them. He knew the reaction he caused in me. And he liked it.

  My stomach plummeted, but I took a deep, inconspicuous breath. “He’s just somebody I went to high school with.” I turned away.

  Brax stood there, though, staring at Kelsy through his dark shades, his body rigid and still, and right then I knew that my dirty little secret, the one I’d hoped to keep hidden from a school filled with brand new people, would not be kept for very long.

  The guy was a douchebag. A fuckin’ prick. I was one, too, so hell yeah, I could tell that about him. An arrogant fuck, by the way he’d stood with his chest bowed, next to his big hillbilly pick-up while smiling at Gracie. That alone was pissing me off. He’d rattled her in the restaurant; that much was obvious. I immediately saw the change in her. He was a lot more than just some douche she knew in high school. She came back from the bathroom on edge. Damn, she was skittish as hell when I’d first picked her up at the dorm. But then I’d turned on the charm and coaxed her into relaxing a little. Gracie was pretty damn funny when chilled and not on constant guard. I gotta admit—I actually enjoyed her company. Usually there was a game involved, where the girl was coy and pretended she wasn’t flirting but she really was, and thought I didn’t know it. I’d known Gracie less than two days and I could tell she was as real as they came. But when she came back, after that drink spilled on her? Scared shitless and nervous as hell, if I had to label it. Her gaze darted all over the place, and she wouldn’t look me in the eye. Now? She wanted to get the fuck out of there. Away from him.