by Rylee Swann
“What? And tell them I’m at your place? I don’t think so.”
“Nah,” he drawls. “Fib. Make something up. A white lie is probably better than telling them you’re with me. Save you a lot of hassle.”
I nod and reach for my phone and a wave of panic hits me. “Where’s my bag?”
“Huh? I don’t think you had one with you.”
“Of course, I did! Oh my god. Did I leave it at Lucifer’s?” A hand goes to my forehead. “What time is it?”
He squints at a wall clock. “Almost three.”
I jump up. “Fuck! What if they tried to call or text?”
That’s when we both jump to the sound of furious pounding on the front door.
We look at each other with expressions that say, who the fuck could it be at this hour? But that becomes a moot point in another second.
“Open up!” is clearly shouted from the other side of the door while the banging continues.
“Oh my god.” I clamp a hand over my mouth, sure that my eyes are bugging right out of my head.
Fringe couldn’t miss my reaction. “You know who that is?”
I nod and whisper, “It’s my dad.”
“Ah hell.” He gets up and moves toward the door.
“No, don’t open it!”
He stops and sighs. “I have to. He’s worried about you and you are here. We can’t ignore him.”
“But he has a bad temper. He once beat up this guy who was threatening Mom. And he beat up a couple of paparazzi, too.” I’m pleading with him now.
“It’ll be alright.”
Before I can say anything else, he’s opened the door.
Dad bursts in, bumping Fringe and moving past him. He’s breathing hard, like he just ran a marathon, and there are little pinpoints of red high up on his cheeks. I’ve never seen him so agitated.
“Where is she?!” He stomps blindly into the apartment. Dad is a gym rat and more than a little conceited about his appearance. Even on his bad days he usually forces himself to workout. Now, his fists are clenched and I’m worried he’s going to lash out in his anger.
“Dad, I’m right here.” I take a step forward. “Chill, will ya?”
He lets out a huge breath, looks at me and then whirls on Fringe.
Looking down at myself, I realize what I’m wearing and put myself in Dad’s shoes. He’s seeing his daughter in a guy’s apartment, who she was told to stay away from, her hair damp and wearing clothes that aren’t hers. No wonder he’s freaking out.
“What the hell is going on here?” He shoves Fringe on the shoulder.
To Fringe’s credit, he simply stands his ground with his hands up in a placating manner. “Nothing is going on, sir—”
“The hell nothing is! You know she’s underage! It’s past three o’clock in the damn morning! She’s not even wearing her own clothes! I—”
“Dad!” I try to step between them but Fringe won’t let me. What the hell? Does he think my dad is going to hit me? I’m sure as hell not the target. “Nothing is going on. He’s telling the truth. We’re just friends.”
“Where are your clothes?” A tiny spray of spit flies out with each word.
“We can talk about that later, okay? Please calm down.” I touch his arm, hoping to soothe him. “I’m okay, really, Dad.”
He nods. “Get your things and let’s go.” He’s talking to me but his eyes are on Fringe. “I’m not done with you. You hear me?”
“I do, sir. I’m very sorry—”
“Save it!” he snaps. “Raven, come on.”
“I’m ready.” My voice comes out sounding small, the same way Dad is making me feel right now.
He throws an arm around my shoulders and I’m not even able to look back at Fringe as he ushers me out of the apartment.
The ride back to our penthouse is rife with silent tension. Even the limo driver knows something is up and doesn’t crack his usual jokes.
I’m unhappily slumped in my seat while Dad sits ramrod straight beside me, tapping his fingers on his knee. He looks at me a couple of times like he’s going to say something, then changes his mind and stares out the window at the passing storefronts, all closed at this late hour. He’s still breathing like a winded racehorse. Maybe he’s trying to calm down before talking to me.
Thing is, he probably never will talk to me. Him and Mom never do. They should never have been allowed to have a kid. I mean, I had to have the sense knocked into me by Fringe, of all people, about getting birth control.
My parents are useless.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Fringe
A few days later, I’m wasted. Leaning on a hot body who’s helping to keep me upright. Fuck if I know who she is.
Lips are on my lips. They’re soft and yielding. When I lean in, I stumble, which leads to us stumbling around together and I laugh. My laughter is cut short by a playful swat on my arm. Then her lips are back on mine, so I ease into the kiss out of habit, if nothing else.
I can’t remember what bar I’m in. Only hope it’s not Lucifer’s. It’s the last thought I have before I blackout.
Then my head is pounding in the complete darkness, until I realize my eyes are closed. I want to laugh but my stomach roils and I’m gripped by a wave of nausea so severe, I don’t think I’ll make it as I leap out of bed and make a stumbling dash to the bathroom. If I was anywhere but my own apartment, I couldn’t have gotten to the toilet in time to heave chunks of who the hell knows what until nothing is coming up but spit, my body convulsing.
Dry heaves. Fucking hate them.
At last, they stop and I rest my head on the toilet seat, not sure I’m done praying to the porcelain god.
It’s been a few days since that nightmare at three a.m. and I haven’t heard from Dawn since. Well, not directly. Divine texted me the next day to tell me that Dawn is grounded and doesn’t have her phone.
Fucking great.
I’m such a fuck up.
I’m shivering and note that I’m naked. I don’t remember how I got home, or where I was in the first place.
Blackout drunk. I deserve how bad I’m feeling right now.
Did I take my clothes off? And then a thought strikes me. Or, did someone else?
“Hey, are you alright?” an unfamiliar female voice asks, could be anybody.
“Yeah,” I croak and push to my feet. Bracing against the sink, I turn on the cold water and splash it on my face. It helps a little.
“Can I get you something? Coffee?”
The thought of coffee sends me back down for another round of prayer. Between heaves, I hear footsteps receding. I guess she got her answer.
I lose track of time but eventually feel well enough to leave the bathroom. Shuffling to my bedroom, I pull on a pair of sweats then head toward the living room, where the is TV playing.
“Hi, Fringe,” a cute short-haired redhead with shapely legs greets me, lounged on my couch, dressed only in my white t-shirt. Great, she knows my name. I don’t know hers. “You were amazing last night.” She smiles and there’s a twinkle of delight in her eyes. “Sorry you got sick.”
I grunt and ease into the beat-up old recliner that was here when I rented the place, too disgusted at myself to say anything. But I have questions.
“How’d we get here?” My voice is hoarse and I try clearing it, which does nothing good for my headache.
“Uber. You don’t remember?”
I shake my head. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She chuckles. “You were pretty out of it.”
“And yet you came home with me anyway.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. It’s a nasty thing to say but I feel like shit. Not much of an excuse, but it’s the only one I have.
It doesn’t seem to faze her though. “Well, we were talking most of the night. I liked the conversation.” She shrugs. “Then you started pounding back the drinks. I was kinda bummed but then worried that you’d never make it home by yourself.”
She confirms my question with a sweet, self-deprecating smile. “Yeah, I guess. By then I didn’t really think you’d be able to ahhh… you know.” She laughs and it’s kind of cute how embarrassed she is. “Get it up, sorry.” She’s blushing and I notice she has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “I figured I’d see you to the door, make sure you didn’t pass out and swallow your tongue and then I could call another ride.”
Now, I’m confused. It’s making my head throb. “Wait, just before, you said I was amazing. You weren’t referring to sex? Did I get it up?”
“Oh, gosh, no.” She brings a hand to her face like she’s trying to hide. I notice again how cute she is. “We didn’t even try. We talked for hours.” Now, she’s smiling, clearly pleased with the memory. “You were really upset.”
“I was?” Fuck, what did I tell her? “About what?”
“Oh, about everything, I guess.”
I half laugh. “What’s that mean?”
She sits up and leans toward me. “Your life, mostly.” She must see my frown and hurries on to the next part. “But, hey, it’s okay. I don’t think you gave up any deep, dark secrets.” Another becoming smile. “I know you’re a frustrated musician. And that your dad is a real piece of work.”
I nod and rest my head back against the recliner. “Yeah, I guess those aren’t deep, dark secrets. Just general life shit, right?”
“Yeah, we all have our own fair share of it.” She falls silent, but her hands are twisting together. Something’s up.
“Is there more?” I brace myself for the worst.
“Well, you were also really worried about your friend. Maybe now that you’re up and sober, you can call her? See if she’s okay?”
My head snaps back up and I groan. “I talked to you about Dawn?”
“Oh, Dawn, is that her name? I had trouble making it out.” She nods and bites her lip. It’s starting to bother me that I don’t know her name. “Umm, yeah, but by then it was getting hard to understand you. You were slurring your words pretty bad. I just got the impression that you were worried about her.”
I get the impression she’s not telling me everything. That she understood more of what I said than she’s letting on. Time to change the subject.
“So, tell me… if we didn’t do it, how did we wind up in bed together?” I look at my t-shirt draped over nice-sized breasts and slim body intently, and find that I’m enjoying looking at her.
She laughs that little embarrassed laugh again. “Well… before I knew I was going to stay overnight, I just wanted to get you into bed, figuring you were about ready to pass out. But when I finally got you there, you grabbed my arm and pulled me down with you.”
“And then we got naked and didn’t have sex?” I grunt a half laugh. “Are you screwing with me?”
She breaks into a wide smile that shows every tooth she’s got. “No, really, I’m not. We laid there, side by side, talking. At some point, you tugged off your clothes and buried yourself under the covers. We talked for a little while longer but you were drifting off by then.” She picks up a glass of water and takes a sip. “I took off my clothes and put on one of your t-shirts.”
My brow raises. “And then?”
“And then we went to sleep. We, ahhh… spooned. It was nice.”
We spooned? I can’t remember ever spooning with anyone.
“Hey, I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“This is kind of embarrassing. I don’t know your name.”
“Ahhh, that’s okay. It’s Angie.”
I smile. That is so perfect. “Angie… Angie…” I sing, “you can’t say we never tried…”
She finishes the line. “But ain’t it time we say goodbye… Rolling Stones. Great song.”
I lean forward, resting my arms on my thighs. “Look, Angie. I’m really sorry I don’t remember any of this. It actually sounds like a great evening.”
“Like I said, it was amazing. You’re a pretty cool guy, Fringe Shaw. But I really should get going.”
She goes to the bedroom then comes out dressed and starts gathering her things, taking the glass she used to the kitchen sink. I watch her as she moves around my apartment like she belongs here.
Besides feeling like hungover crap, I’m feeling true regret. I do wish I could remember. She has a spark about her like she’s got her shit together. I need to stall or, at least, figure out a way to run into her again.
“Hey, Angie… where did we meet last night?”
“The Stumble Inn.” She glances back at me with a wink while she rinses her glass. “For a while there, you kept saying, anywhere but Lucifer’s.”
I chuckle, raising my eyes to the ceiling. It’s the last thing I remember from last night. “Hey, uhh…” I seem to have lost the ability to put a decent sentence together. “Maybe we… I mean… you and me…”
She walks over and places a chaste kiss on my cheek. “I already programmed my phone number into your cell.” She straightens and looks down at me with the sweetest smile. “Catch ya on the flip side, Fringe.”
Then she’s gone, leaving my apartment before I can say anything else.
I stare at the closed door for a long time, my thoughts in a turmoil, and my apartment feeling much emptier than usual.
I think I like this girl.
Why?
What is it about her?
She’s a redhead. A cool, age-appropriate redhead.
Go figure.
But what about Dawn?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Raven Dawn
I’m giving my parents the silent treatment. Or they’re giving me the silent treatment. I’m honestly not sure which it is.
What I do know is that it’s been crazy tense around here the past couple of days. They grounded me, and yeah, I guess they were well within their rights to do so. I did break the rules, even though I think the rules are stupid.
I just wish they would trust Fringe. I know he’d never ever hurt me.
Last night, Mom said I was grounded for life while Dad tried not to laugh. That might be a bit too extreme, he’d told her. I downplay it, but my dad is a pretty cool guy. I mean, he was more pissed than I’d ever seen him but still able to see the humor in Mom’s punishment. During the interaction, I, of course, played all teenage angst and hormones, screaming about how unfair it all was and slamming my bedroom door.
I wonder if they know all that is usually an act. I’m just playing the role I’ve been given.
Okay, if I’m being totally honest with myself, it wasn’t all an act last night. And, it felt really good to slam my door as loud as I did. I’m a lot smarter than they give me credit for. Book smarts I have, if I apply myself and don’t cut so many classes—yeah right. To me, street smarts are way more important. I mean, all the book learning in the world isn’t going to get you out of a nasty confrontation in a darkened alley.
Rather than forever, I’m grounded for two weeks. My birthday is in eight days. When I pointed that out, they didn’t seem to give a shit. My ears are going to start bleeding if I hear one more you brought this on yourself or next time you’ll know better.
What a load of shit. I can’t wait until I’m eighteen.
They even kept me home from school yesterday. When I mentioned how hypocritical that made them, Mom rolled her eyes so hard I thought she’d lose them in the back of her head.
“Raven,” she said, “don’t think for a second we don’t know about how often you cut class. Are you even going to graduate?”
That kind of surprised me. Maybe they weren’t as oblivious as I thought.
What really sucks is not having my phone.
I’m not that concerned about being grounded. I can get out of this penthouse undetected anytime I want. It’s not having contact with the outside world that’s the real downer. I miss my friends. Divine. Peach. But especially Frin
ge. God, I hope he doesn’t hate me for all this shit.
At least they let me come to school today. Never thought I’d be grateful for school, but I was getting texting withdrawals.
As soon as I saw Divine, I told her everything then asked her to text Fringe to explain why I was radio silent.
It’s lunchtime now in the school cafeteria. Can I just say eww? I haven’t sat here at this sticky table in weeks. I’ve gotten spoiled to cutting and eating at the diner or Lucifer’s. The school cafe is gross. The kids here are so juvenile. I can’t believe I’m here.
“What the fuck is that on your plate?” Divine appears behind me, pointing at my tray.
I jump then bust out laughing. “I don’t have a fucking clue. Why are you here?”
“To keep my girl company.”
I’m touched. No one who doesn’t have to be here should be.
“I don’t want to put you through this.”
She plops her tray down across from mine and sits. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll ditch tomorrow.” She winks and holds out her phone to me.
I stare at her then the phone. This is big. “You’re not going to play Candy Crush during lunch?”
She tsks and rolls her eyes. “Of course I am. Just thought you might want to call Fringe or something.”
I slap my forehead. “Duh! Why didn’t I think of that?”
I grab the phone and dial, then eagerly hold it to my ear as a big smile spreads across my face.
“You are so into him.”
“Shut up! I am not.” I grip the phone tighter and wave my hand at her. “Shhh, I can’t hear. Fringe? You there?”
“Hey, baby doll.” His rich masculine voice immediately has me all gooey inside. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“Please don’t hate me! This is all such a mess. My parents won’t listen to reason!” I speak in a rush, getting out all my worries in one mad sentence.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I don’t hate you. You’re a dork for thinking that I could.” His laugh warms my heart, chases away my concerns. “’Sides, it wasn’t your fault. I should have known better.”