by Mary Strand
Thank God I turned him down last night.
I was on the brink of easing myself back to my feet and running as fast and as far from Alex as I could when he started talking again. The guy who never says much suddenly couldn’t shut up.
“I also don’t know what you think happened with Justin, but there’s no way he told you.”
My eyes widened when I saw Alex scowl, watched without wanting to the way his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, pulling them tight across the front. I had to admit—but not to him—that the guy was hot, which really irritated me. Because he was still a jerk.
I shrugged. “So? You haven’t either.”
Alex looked uncomfortable, probably because he had done something to Justin. “I, uh, don’t think you want to know. Justin was bragging about something in front of a bunch of guys, and I told him to shut up.”
I gulped in cold air, stinging my throat. Why didn’t Alex want to tell me about it? Didn’t most guys want girls to think they were some stupid knight in shining armor? Leave it to Alex to be different.
I rolled my eyes. “So? He was bragging, and you told him to shut up. You didn’t have to kick him out of the party.”
“But he wouldn’t shut up.”
“He was bragging. No offense, but guys do that. Who made you the king of good manners?”
“He was bragging about...someone. And telling everyone her name.” A slight flush crept up Alex’s face, startling me. He’d never struck me as the kind of guy who’d blush over anything. “And I didn’t like it.”
“Because...?”
“It was really obnoxious.”
I shook my head. “So it was really obnoxious. Fine. But you still didn’t—”
Alex held up a hand. “You have to trust me on this.”
“Why? Aren’t you the same guy who thinks my sister is a stalker? Who told Charlie to dump Jane?” I snorted. “I should believe you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I don’t. Believe you.”
I started to get up, but Alex dropped down to a crouch to rest a hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place.
“He was bragging about...getting laid.”
Ick. I tried not to make a face, but I’m pretty sure I flunked that one. “And he named names?”
“Just one.”
Alex didn’t say anything more, so I motioned him to keep going. I might as well hear it. I’d already heard enough rumors about Justin’s conquests. “Tiffany Hale?”
He stared downward, even started tracing circles in the frozen ground. After a long moment, he finally looked at me. “You.”
“Me? Funny. Tell me another one.” I laughed, but inside I just felt sick. Groping me in a closet wasn’t going to be any guy’s greatest conquest, but apparently Justin must’ve thought—at the time, at least—I was hot.
He’d definitely gotten over it.
Alex frowned. “I’m serious. He was telling some of the circus guys, just as I walked past them, that you’d—”
He broke off, but I wasn’t going to fill in the blank. Okay, I kissed the guy. Okay, I stupidly let him slip his hands under my shirt. But I didn’t do anything more, and I shoved him when he tried to, so no one would call it “getting laid.” By any definition.
Alex stared at me, his gaze dropping to my lips. Yep, Justin had definitely told the guys about the kissing. Fine. A little embarrassing, especially with Alex, but I’d deal.
“He said he slept with you.”
I gasped. “What? I never—”
Alex shrugged. “That’s why I told him to shut up, and why I kicked him out of the party. And why I wanted to beat the crap out of him.”
Alex? Beat the crap out of another guy? No way.
When I finally spoke again, my voice sounded hollow. “I never slept with him. Or anything like that.”
“I figured.”
“Hey!” I punched Alex, and I wasn’t kidding. “Why? Don’t you think I-I...”
I trailed off, not sure whether I was defending my virtue or trying to attack my virtue—which was far more intact than even Alex probably guessed—and finally just shut up.
My eyes glazed over as I pondered what Justin had done. He’d told a crowd of guys he slept with me. Circus guys, Alex, and God knows who else. The sick feeling returned to the pit of my stomach, slamming me hard. The whole thing was surreal. It stunned me so much, I almost forgot my butt was turning into the world’s biggest ice cube.
“I can’t believe he made that up.”
Except, well, I did. And now I knew this wasn’t some stupid argument between Justin and Alex. Justin had attacked me.
And Alex defended me.
But he didn’t try to explain, or make me believe him, or even change the subject, the way a lot of guys would. Unlike Justin, he also didn’t try to make out with me in a closet, and not just because there wasn’t a closet handy. Alex never let emotion, let alone passion, enter the picture.
Except that he wanted to beat the crap out of Justin. Which seemed like a good idea.
After one long last look—so intense I shivered, and not from the cold—he touched my arm, then walked past me, heading in the direction of Mrs. Parks’s house.
By now, the ice had seeped through my sweatpants and straight to my butt, which was numb and probably blue, and I figured I might be stuck here, frozen to the ground until either April arrived or a SWAT team cut me loose. I doubted Alex would come back to rescue me. Unless I forced him.
“Hey!”
He turned back to me, head tilted, probably figuring I might throw a snowball at him. It wasn’t a bad idea, actually, but I was more worried about detaching myself from the ice.
When Alex didn’t come back, though, I got up, slowly and painfully, and hobbled over to him. A quick glance at my watch told me I’d spent nearly half an hour on the ground. I tried to surreptitiously rub my butt, cringing at every painfully ice-cold inch, but I stopped when I noticed that his eyes were tracking me every step of the way.
I didn’t know what to say or do. I just wanted a reaction out of him.
When I reached him, I noticed he’d taken his hands out of his pockets, and his fists were balled at his sides. Maybe Alex felt more than he let on. But what?
Before I could stop myself, I moved a few inches closer, went up on my toes, and proceeded to shock the hell out of myself. And him.
Because I kissed him.
He broke away a second, kinda frowned at me, then grabbed my jacket and pulled me in tight. And kissed me back. Hard. And that’s when it really got weird.
Because he suddenly tensed. And turned and walked away.
“Hey!”
This time he didn’t stop. Didn’t turn around to look at me. Definitely didn’t wait for me to catch up with him.
So I’d gotten a reaction out of him—I mean, he did kiss me back—but I still didn’t have a clue about Alex. He might be the paranoid jerk who split up Charlie and Jane, but everything else seemed different, and it wasn’t just because his kiss made my stomach flip a few somersaults. Hell. Even his brown eyes were different up close. Intense. Hot.
I reached Mrs. Parks’s house, sent up a prayer that Alex wasn’t waiting for me in the front hall—although somehow I knew he wouldn’t be—and walked inside.
I didn’t see Alex, and no one asked me why I’d been out for two hours on a bitterly cold morning or why my sweatpants were sopping wet. So I swung past the kitchen, grabbed a bagel, and headed upstairs for a long, hot shower.
After pulling on a semi-clean pair of jeans and the nearest T-shirt, I tossed the rest of my stuff in my duffle, then hauled it downstairs. In the front hall, I ran into Wild Bill and Rachel, whose eyebrows went up when she saw my duffle. Bill ignored me, probably because Mrs. Parks came inside the house just then, trailed by Veronica.
He grinned at Mrs. Parks. “Good trip to the airport?”
“Of course not.” She shot Bill a tight look that made me think a new résumé might be in his near
future. “I don’t know why Alex and Patrick had to rush off.” She sighed, the drama queen. “But that’s the way with young men. They make up their minds to do something, and they’re off.”
Most guys I knew had trouble getting off their butts to do anything unless it involved beer or sports, but I didn’t say a word. Mrs. Parks gave me an evil glare, like she figured it was my fault they left but couldn’t quite pin it on me. She probably already had the FBI working on the case.
“And you’re leaving now, Elizabeth?” As “Elizabeth” came out of Mrs. Parks’s mouth, I turned just in time to see Veronica nudging her elbow, which floored me. “I mean, Liz.”
I sucked in a whoosh of air. “I need to get home. Classes start again tomorrow.”
Mrs. Parks frowned. “But you’ll stay for lunch.”
My lip wanted to curl, so I bit it until I tasted blood. I glanced at Rachel, hovering right behind Mrs. Parks at the door and looking petrified. But I wasn’t Rachel. “Sorry. It’s a long drive back, and I need to study tonight.”
It was a bit of a lie, but I’d suffered through enough crappy meals with Mrs. Parks, and I didn’t need another round of bologna sandwiches. On stale bread. With water.
“Hmpf. Well, perhaps we’ll see you again.”
If hell froze over, sure. I blinked and bit my lip again, having already exceeded my quota of times I could say “no” to Mrs. Parks. By now, my lower lip ached and must look like a pack of wild dogs had been gnawing on it, but I didn’t figure any guys would be lining up to kiss it anytime soon.
Chapter 16
“And we mean to treat you all,” added Lydia; “but you must lend us the money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there.”
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume II, Chapter Sixteen
I drove the endless miles home, dwelling way too much on Alex. I cringed every time I remembered how I’d kissed him—why?—and he’d kissed me back, then walked away without saying anything. Ouch!
I also wasn’t exactly looking forward to being home again. What could I say to Jane? I finally had a few answers to the riddle that was Charlie, but the answers wouldn’t bring Charlie back or fix the bigger issue she was facing. I cursed Alex again. And again.
Lost in my thoughts, I was startled when I pulled into my driveway. Woodbury. Ready or not.
Cat and Lydia came running out before the Jeep even rolled to a stop. “Liz! Just the person we’ve been waiting for.”
“Why? Has hell frozen over?”
I grabbed my duffle bag and tossed it on the ground.
Cat whispered something to Lydia, who jabbed Cat in the side. Lydia then turned to me, plastering an innocent look on her face. She reminded me of a mass murderer facing a jury.
I looked past both of them. “Where is everyone?”
“Jane’s flight gets in tonight, and Mom went to Kowalski’s to get something for dinner.”
Which left Dad, who apparently wasn’t eager to see me. Brushing off a stab of disappointment, I picked up my bag and tried to move past the Dynamic Duo.
Lydia stood in my way, trying to grab the duffle out of my hand. “I can get that, Liz.”
I shrugged her off. “Thanks, but I don’t need help.”
“But, um, we do.” Lydia started talking at lightning speed. “It’s just that we need a little cash. We can pay you back next week.”
“How? Didn’t Dad cut off your allowance again?”
Cat looked anxiously at Lydia, who ignored her. “We’ll get the money, Liz, I swear. I have the best plan in the world.”
“Whatever it is, there are probably laws against it.”
“But it’s a sure moneymaker! And we’d never have to borrow money from you again.”
“Come to think of it, you two haven’t paid me back what you borrowed at Christmas. No more loans.”
Lydia’s face started to turn purple. “But I need it. Like, yesterday. I kinda owe the money.”
My eyebrows rose. “I thought you said it was a money-making deal, not a money-borrowing deal.”
“It was. I mean, it is. It’s hard to explain.”
Unless it was tougher than quantum physics, I could probably handle it. “Try me.”
Lydia slinked back into the house, leaving Cat on the sidewalk, staring at the ground. So I looked down, too, and finally noticed her bare feet. Geez. The temp had to be hovering around forty degrees, tops. Frostbite city.
“Cat? What’s up?”
Her toes were turning blue. “Lydia bought lottery tickets.”
“Even though she’s not eighteen.” I shook my head. “Well, so what? How many did she buy?”
“Three hundred?”
My jaw dropped. “Three hundred? Is she nuts? Where’d she get the money for them?”
Cat bit her lip. “She used your credit card?”
“What? I had it with me in Fargo.” I glared at Cat, no longer caring that her feet must be frozen solid to the sidewalk by now. “She’s a thief!”
“She did it the day before you left for Fargo, but only because she was, like, definitely sure she’d win the lottery, and she’d collect last week, and it’d all be fine.”
“Why’d she think she’d win?”
“Um, she might’ve gone to a psychic that day too.”
“Also with my charge card?”
Cat shivered. “I-I have to go inside. I’m f-freezing.”
I stormed inside after her and dumped my duffle in the front hall. “Lydia! Get your butt down here right this minute!”
No answer, of course.
“I’ll call the police! Theft, forgery, you name it. They’ll haul your ass off to jail, and good riddance!”
Lydia showed up a second after Dad, who looked confused. “Police, Lizzie? What did Lydia do?”
I glared at her. “Do you want to confess, or should I tell Dad? Either way, you’ll spend the rest of your life grounded or in reform school, although I’d vote for prison.”
Lydia fluttered her eyelashes, even though that particular maneuver had never worked on Dad. “You know Liz, Dad. Always huffing and puffing but not blowing down any houses, if you know what I mean.”
He stared at her over the tops of his reading glasses. “No, young lady, I have no idea what you mean. Perhaps Lizzie should explain it to me?”
“Not necessary—”
I cut in. “I’d be happy to. Lydia has been playing the lottery, even though it’s illegal for someone under eighteen, and she stole my charge card to do it, and she racked up at least three hundred dollars just on that.”
Dad’s ears turned bright red as he stared at Lydia. “Is this true? What do you have to say?”
Lydia was chewing a wad of bubble gum, reminding me of a cow, and she took that moment to blow a huge bubble. I reached out and popped it in her face. Justice.
“Dad! Did you see what Liz did to me?”
Dad folded his arms. “I’m still waiting for your answer.”
“But you never listen to my side of the story!”
“I never seem to hear your side of the story, Lydia.” Dad pointed to a chair in the living room next to his own leather recliner. “Take a seat. I’d rather hear your version before Lizzie indeed calls the police.”
“You wouldn’t let her do that.”
Dad just raised his eyebrows.
Lydia blew out an annoyed breath. “I had a sure thing, and I didn’t have any spare cash. I don’t see why Jane and Liz get to have credit cards, but I don’t.”
“Because they’re in college and because they’re responsible. But since when is the lottery a sure thing?”
“It was up to, like, twenty million dollars, and my three hundred dollars was part of a big pool, and, see—”
I wanted to slap her. “It wasn’t your three hundred dollars, you twit. It was my three hundred dollars. And God knows what else you spent on my charge card.”
Cat piped in. “Like those cute Uggs you bought?”
“Cat!” Lydia prac
tically flew out of her chair at Cat, who tried to scoot sideways into the kitchen.
Dad quelled both of them, and me for that matter, with a Look. “Sit down. I’m going to get to the bottom of this, and then Lydia will tell us how she plans to repay Lizzie.”
Lydia’s eyes darted wildly around the room, and I figured she wanted to make a break for it. Her only hope was if Mom walked in the front door right this instant. Mom made a career out of fixing Lydia’s messes.
I smiled meanly at Lydia, the little shit.
Finally, she faced Dad’s steady gaze. “Could you maybe pay, Dad? Call it an early birthday present?”
Dad rolled his eyes. “A fascinating suggestion, but your birthday was two weeks ago. I’ve already had to cut off your allowance twice in the last few months, so the prospect of taking the amount you owe out of your allowance isn’t good.”
I raised a finger. “We could go on eBay and sell her cell phone, iPod, you name it.” I felt sick for a moment, remembering how Rachel’s parents had sold their stuff on eBay, but this wasn’t Rachel. Lydia had it coming. “Just cutting off her cell phone has to save at least three hundred dollars.”
“Shut up, Liz!” Lydia leaped out of her chair. “Or I’ll—”
“Lydia.” Dad leaned forward, holding one arm out to catch her in case she flew past him to throttle me.
I welcomed it. One good slug, and she’d be sailing through the air to downtown St. Paul. “Bring it on, little girl. Besides, what else could you possibly do? Rob a bank? Steal more charge cards? How many fake IDs do you have?”
“Lizzie, that’s enough.”
“Not nearly enough, Dad.” I would call the police if Dad didn’t lock her up until she was at least eighteen. Preferably thirty. “You know she can’t pay me back. She doesn’t work, and even if she still got an allowance it wouldn’t be enough to pay me back in this lifetime.”
“I’ll pay you back, Lizzie, and Lydia will pay me. This will be my problem.”
“It’s a problem you’ll have for the rest of your life if you don’t do something. She’s a criminal, for God’s sake.”
“Let’s leave God out of it.” Dad turned to Lydia and shook a finger at her. “But if you’re smart, young lady, you’ll be doing a lot of talking to God. For now, you need to go to your room.”