His car slowly pulls up to the curb, and he smiles at me. “Morning, sunshine. Ready for Pittsburgh?”
I nod and roll my small suitcase to his trunk. He gets out, places my bag in the back, and shuts the trunk, and then we’re off. He glances over at me once in a while, and I hate the silence between us. “Do you wanna listen to some music?” he asks.
“Sure.”
He plugs in his iPod and pushes play. A song I’m not familiar with fills the space. “What is this?”
“Like it?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“It’s called ‘Shots’ by Imagine Dragons.”
I nod. “It’s got a good beat. I could run to this.”
He chuckles. “Only you would take a song meant for mellowing and turn it into exercise music.”
I glare at him. “Oh, don’t make jabs at me. I know perfectly well you weren’t just blessed with your sexy abs.” I cover my mouth and look out the window. I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look over at him. Of all the things to let slip, I let that come out. Jeez, I’m such a dork.
The music becomes softer, barely a hum in the car, and he says, “So you think I’m sexy?”
“Don’t.”
“Well, you brought it up, Smalls. Not me.”
I glance over at him. “Yes. You know you are. Happy?”
“Maybe.” He smiles like he’s satisfied, though. “And to in answer your assumption, yes, I work on cars. Sometimes those parts are a bitch to lift. Plus, Graham makes me go to the gym with him so he can stay in shape for baseball.”
“Ha! I knew it.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Oh, this is going to be a fun ride.”
Eight hours and thirty minutes later, we pull into the Quality Inn. Bryce surprises me by grabbing our luggage and opening all the doors for me. It makes me gushy inside that he’s being such a gentleman.
I step up to the desk and check in, and then we go up to our room. Bryce stares at the king-size bed, and I say, “We can share. I won’t have you sleeping on the floor.”
“Look, I’ll get my own room if you’re uncomfortable.”
“No. I’m not uncomfortable.” I throw my arms around him and squeeze. “I don’t know how to do this. It’s still so new.” I look up at him. “I don’t want you to leave me, though.”
“I’m not going anywhere, babe.” He runs his hand through my hair and sighs. “We should probably get some dinner. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds great.”
We leave and head to this cute little bistro called The Porch. We sit at a high table, and I look over the menu. Everything looks delicious. My stomach grumbles. It smells amazing in here. “What are you getting?”
He peers over his menu. “I don’t know. It’s hard to choose. What are you getting?”
“I don’t know. Everything looks so good.”
“Yeah, it does. Well, you know what that means, right?”
“No, what?”
He sets his menu down. “It’s up to our waiter.”
“What? No.”
“Or you can play the choosing game. Cover your eyes and run your hand up and down the menu. When I say stop, that’s what you’ll get.”
I laugh. “That’s ridiculous too!”
He grins. “I think I like it. I’m covering my eyes. Tell me when to go and stop.”
He places a hand over his eyes, and I laugh harder. He looks so silly. He makes a sideways V with the fingers over his eyes and peeks out at me before saying, “Come on, Smalls. I’m waiting for my countdown.”
I straighten in my chair. “Okay. Since you want to be goofy. Go.”
He snaps his fingers closed, shielding his eyes completely, and begins running his finger along the menu. After I count to three silently in my head, I say, “Stop.”
He uncovers his eyes and nods. “Bacon cheeseburger with blue cheese crumbles. Awesome. You do it.”
“No.”
“Come on. Live a little.”
I scowl at him. “I live just fine.”
“Do you?”
I cover my eyes. “Okay, count me down.”
He tells me to go, and I run my finger along the pages. I probably look utterly silly, but it’s kind of fun. “Okay, stop.”
I do. Opening my eyes, I see my choice: a Greek chicken wrap. I can deal with that.
“Admit it, that was pretty fun and easy, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, it was fun. Happy?”
“Very.”
The odd thing is, I believe he’s talking about more than just our choices in food. And even odder, I hope he is, because I’m happy to be here with him.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and I glance down at the caller ID. I swallow. “It’s my parents.”
“Answer it.”
“But …”
“Look at me, Mads.” I gaze at him. “Answer it. It’ll be fine. I’m right here. We’re close to eight hours away from them. Just be honest, and everything will be fine.”
“But what if—”
He grabs my phone and slides the answer button. He hands the phone back to me. I hear, “Madison! Where in God’s name are you?” as I draw the phone to my ear.
“Hi, Dad. I’m in Pittsburgh.”
“Pittsburgh? Pittsburgh! What the hell are you doing in Pittsburgh? I thought we said no to this trip. You deliberately defied us!”
“Dad, this is my future.”
“No! Your future is at one of the schools I picked out for you. This is not part of the plan, Madison! That boy has been corrupting your head. I knew this would happen.”
I shrink in my seat. Bryce moves around the table and holds me to him. I want to sob, but we’re in public. I’m not going to cry in this place. My dad won’t make me feel bad. “I’ll be home on Sunday. You can punish me then, but I did use my own money, and I left my car there. So you can’t be too mad at me.”
“You better not hang up on me, Madison. I’m not done talking to you.”
“Well, I’m done talking to you if you’re just going to scream at me.” I hang up and shut my phone off.
Bryce kisses my forehead and then returns to his seat. Even if this trip turns out to be a waste, I’m glad he’s with me.
Chapter Forty-Five
Bryce
Back at the hotel, I slip into the bathroom and change into a pair of boxers and a clean nightshirt. I brush my teeth and step into the room. Madison is bundled under the covers with one of the art books I bought her.
I’ve never been nervous about going to bed, but this is different. I’m not sure what to do: a. sleep as far away from her as possible; b. hold her close; c. fool around a little; or d. just go with the flow. As I approach the right side of the bed with caution, I decide on a., because in the end, she’s going to have the final say. Always. So if I just keep to my side like we agreed, everything would be fine.
My phone rings, and I answer it while sliding under the comforter but on top of the sheets. “Hey, Graham.”
“Dude, where are you?”
I’m not sure how to answer this. Should I say I’m with Madison in Pennsylvania? “I’m, uh … out of town.”
“Really, man? You’re supposed to be at Greg’s. Remember? The Ho-Ho-Ho party.”
Okay, Greg has some weird dress-up parties. Halloween is one thing. But at this one, Greg dresses up as Santa and asks all the girls to sit on his lap. He even asks if they got what they really wanted this year. I swear the dude is a freaking clown. The girls come dressed up too, sometimes as sexy elves or Mrs. Claus. A naughty version of Mrs. Claus.
“Yeah, sorry I’m missing it.” I’m really not.
“Fuck, I’ve gotta go. Someone said the cops are coming.”
I hang up and put my phone back on its the charger. Madison sets her book down and shuts off her light. I look up at the ceiling and sigh.
There’s a rustling next to me, and then she whispers, “Bryce?”
“Yeah?” I’m still looking up
at the ceiling. I need to be good. Stay on my side. She hasn’t really said it, but I think she regrets us sleeping together. And I can’t have her regretting it every time.
“Thanks for coming. And for earlier today, with my dad … I just … I need you to know that I really am grateful.”
I look at her. She leans in, and I follow. My hand brushes a strand of hair from her cheek, and then the curve of her mouth finds mine. I need more, though, so I deepen the kiss, with my tongue sliding against hers. She moans and rolls on top of me. As she straddles me, she grinds against me, and I’m about to lose it.
I press my head into the pillow and place my hands on her shoulders. Pushing her back slightly, I pant, “What are we doing?”
“I don’t want to fight my feelings any more, Bryce. Can’t we just have fun until graduation?”
“Be fuck buddies?”
She pauses for a second. Possibly mulling the words over in her head. She won’t agree. This is Madison. She’s top in our class. She’s safe. A tease, maybe, but never a slut.
“Yes. Only it’s with no one else. We aren’t dating. But we won’t go screwing other people.”
My eyes widen. I can’t believe she said that. She’s got to be joking. I’m waiting for the laugh, but it never comes. “Madison, you really want to be friends with benefits?”
“Why not? Logically speaking, we’d both be saving ourselves from heartache. After May thirteenth, we’ll be done with high school. Then what? We’ll have the summer, where we’ll try to stretch out our good-byes, but that will lead to fights. Which in turn will make us be impossibly stupid. We’ll break up, get back together, and then end up breaking up long-distance. So this saves us all those stupid steps.”
I’m shocked. Impressed. But mostly I’m shocked. Who the hell is this girl? “If that’s what you want, I’m in.” Even though I’ve got a really bad feeling about this. I’ve seen the movies—this shit doesn’t end well.
She leans in and places kisses on my lips and down my jaw. “Yes.”
I yank off her flimsy tank top and suck on her boobs. She grinds against me, and fuck, I need her. Right now. But I can’t take her too quick. She’ll think this is all I wanted from her. I don’t want to go too slow either because then she’ll know I want more than this and she’ll run away again. So I keep chanting medium speed, medium speed in my head. I know it’s dumb as hell. But it’s the only way to keep her until I can convince her that the two of us could work.
She moans, “Please. Now. I need you now.”
“Shh,” I tell her as I guide my hand past the waistband of her shorts and undies. She’s so wet, it’s turning me on even more. Especially when she rocks back and forth against my fingers and palm.
“Oh, Bryce, please,” she begs.
I roll her underneath me, rip off the rest of my clothes, and slide on a condom. Then I yank her shorts and underwear off and give her exactly what she wants. After we’ve both been satisfied, I continue kissing her until she falls asleep beside me. Then I get up, dispose of the condom, and put my boxers back on. I crawl back in beside her, wrap my arm around her waist, and press her against me. I could sleep like this forever.
Slivers of light making their way through the crack in the curtains wakes me. My hand brushes against her bare ass. She rolls toward me, grabs my hand, and guides it to her sex. I shouldn’t, but I oblige her and give her what she wants all over again.
When we finally leave the bed, I ask, “Wanna shower together?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t get greedy.” She gets her shower first. Once she’s finished, I take mine.
Madison is rushing about the room when I step out in a towel. She’s already dressed in a businesslike suit, brushing her hand along the hemline. She examines herself in the mirror on the wall and then heads to the door. “Um, are you forgetting something?” I ask.
She looks back at me. Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “I just thought you’d want to stay here.”
“Stay here?”
Madison chews on her lower lip. “Yeah, I mean, it’s my interview. It’ll be boring.” But the way she says it makes me think there’s something more she’s not telling me. Like maybe she’s embarrassed by me. It pisses me off too. I’m tired of people looking at me and feeling ashamed.
“You know what, go to your interview,” I snap.
“What’s your problem?”
I narrow my eyes. “Right now, you are. Always looking at me like that. I knew you wouldn’t see me as anything other than a piece of shit. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Slumming it with the bad boy next door. Let me ask you something. Did you fuck me because you wanted to? Or was it just another way to piss off your family because they’re not paying attention to their fucking golden child anymore?”
She storms over to me and smacks me in the face. It stings, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s the good kind of sting, the righteous kind. I grin at her. She lifts her hand to smack me again, and I grind out, “You better watch it. Or you might be walking your pretty ass back to Tennessee.”
She backs up. “Go screw yourself!” She leaves the hotel. I ponder whether to leave too, but I stay and wait. I’m pissed the entire time. I knew better. Knew not to try and win her back. Knew not to even try dating her in the first place. She’ll never see me as anything other than an asshole delinquent, and you know what? She and everyone else can kiss my ass!
Chapter Forty-Six
Madison
I hate him! Who the hell does he think he is? Did I enjoy having sex with him? Yes. Did I do it to piss of my parents? Possibly. At first, maybe. But now, I don’t know. But screw him for saying any of this to me.
I stomp my way across campus to the Frick Fine Arts Building, thinking about none other than Bryce Matthews. Ugh! I clench my hands into tight balls. I want to punch him in his face so bad. What was I smoking? Hooking up with Bryce Matthews was a terrible idea. Yes, when he’s not in his asshole, grumpy mode, he’s incredibly sweet. And he’s hot as hell. His body is just, God, droolworthy. But then that asshat has to turn around and ruin everything!
I force my way into the building, and then it happens. Everything that enraged me becomes a distant memory. Beautiful pieces of art surround me, and it feels amazing to be around so much beauty. I step up to a replica of The Starry Night and want so desperately to trace the brushstrokes with my fingers. Obviously I don’t, but I still want to.
“It’s wonderful, is it not?” a voice breaks in from behind me.
I startle and turn toward the sound, clutching my chest. A tall woman with a long, thin face and faded blond hair pulled back in a tight bun stares at me. “You must be Miss Issac, yes?”
I simply nod because this woman is so intimidating. Her stern features remind me of a strict grandma with a large paddle in hand. Ready to crack butts if one person is out of line. “I’m Hilary Vanworth. Come with me,” she says.
She leads me to an office deep in the back of the building. She directs me to a chair, and I take a seat. I watch her move around her desk and sit down in the oversized chair. She rests her folded hands on top of what looks to be a desk calendar. Her dark eyes bore into me, like I’m nothing but paper. Transparent paper, to be exact. And honestly, maybe I am transparent—everyday, ordinary—and it hurts more than I’d like.
Who am I really? I’m just Madison Issac. There’s nothing special about me. I’m a decent runner. I’m smart, but there are people brighter than me out there in the world. I wish Bryce was here. He paints me as this extraordinary person, and it makes me feel great. Amazing even. Like I need to be that person always, so that he never sees me as I really am, which is how Sarah and my family see me. Plain. The good girl. The pretty one. Not beautiful or wonderful. Just pretty.
“Miss Issac, I must admit, when Ms. Dyson sent me your work last year to consider, I thought it was dry. It needed more. I wasn’t sure if you had it in you. Then something changed. She sent me your latest pieces, and I must say, whatever has gotten
into you has really inspired the passion and drive I’m looking for. So tell me something, Madison, what did you feel when you walked into the gallery today?”
“This is the part where I’m supposed to suck up to you, right?” Oh my God, I just said that out loud. I shake my head and quickly recover. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”
She grins at me. It’s worse than her stern gaze. How that’s possible, I’m not sure, but I might pee my pants soon. “Go on,” she says.
I swallow. “When I walked in here today, I was livid with a boy. A boy who brings out the best and worst parts about me—it depends on the day. But as soon as I entered this building, my anger disappeared. I was calmed by the beauty of the work hanging on the walls. I was also a little intimidated by it.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it’s amazing. I only hope to be, aspire to be that wonderfully talented.”
She smiles again, showing off her coffee-stained teeth. “Why should we accept you into our program?”
“You shouldn’t.”
She stares at me. I don’t blame her; she probably thinks I’m an idiot. I sound like one even to myself. But I am being completely truthful. I don’t deserve to go here. Yes, my grades are acceptable. But so what? That doesn’t make me the next van Gogh, Sophie Anderson, Rachel Whiteread, or Picasso.
“There will always be better, talented, more passionate people than me that come through these doors,” I go on. “But I will never get enough of seeing the world differently. Seeing the shapes, colors, and the contrast in lights. I’ll always be that odd kid who’s on the edge of normal, but still odd enough to never fit in. I believe this is where I’ll finally fit in. Grow, learn, and never once feel like I have to hide my quirks, flaws, and weirdness.”
She stands. Shit. I said something wrong. Why did I have to get all nerdy and weird for a minute? She moves around her desk, and I have the urge to crawl under this chair and just die. “Miss Issac, I’d love to have you in our summer program. It starts the last week of June and ends a week before the fall semester starts.”
Bryce (Scandalous Boys #1) Page 21