To Be Your Girl (To Be Yours Book 1)

by Rae Kennedy

  “Haley! Please, come back! I’m sorry.”

  “Fuck off!” I yell as I reach the bottom and run around the corner of the building.

  I don’t stop running until I pass the parking lot. My bare feet are cold and sting from slapping the pavement. It is dark out and he can’t see which way I have gone.

  I am alone.

  I finally have a chance to catch my breath. My heart beats wildly against my ribs. What just happened? How had my perfect boyfriend suddenly turned into a jerk? The night has gone to shit. Then I realize how much so—not only am I unsure how to get home, I have no way to get there.

  I check my phone. It is almost eleven. Tuck might be home. I call him. Voicemail.

  “Tuck, I need your help right now. I’m not okay.” I don’t know what else to say. I hang up and sit down on the sidewalk.

  The concrete is cold. My feet hurt as I put on my shoes and my fingers are stiff. I can feel warmth bubbling up in my eyelids, but I blink it away. I am not shedding any tears over this.

  I sit there for a couple more minutes, watching my breath disappear into the black.

  I don’t know what to do.

  My phone rings. I don’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Without warning, tears fall from both of my eyes.

  Cade.

  I tell him the cross streets.

  “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Cade is here in minutes. He pulls up fast in his black GTO. He jumps out of the car and runs around to me.

  “Are you okay?” He pulls me up to my feet, both hands on my shoulders as he searches my eyes. He looks frightened.

  “Yeah, I’m all right.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No—"

  “I swear if he laid a fucking hand on you—"

  “Cade, no. It’s nothing like that.”

  He relaxes his grip on me a little and his face smooths out. “Good. Come on, let’s go home.”

  He opens the door and I climb in.

  My phone rings. Adam.

  I ignore it. Then I get his text: I’m sorry. Please call me.

  Cade gets in the driver’s side, turns the key in the ignition, and puts his phone to his ear. “Yeah, I got her. She’s fine. I’m taking her home. Of course, man.” He hangs up and we pull out to the main street, Cade’s arm thrown casually over my seat. “So...you gonna tell me what happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll just say that Adam and I are over.”

  “Okay...” We stop at a red light and he taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “You know you scared the shit out of Tuck. He’s over an hour away in the city and was freaking out.”

  I didn’t think I could feel much worse. Wrong.

  He looks at me sincerely. “Put my number in your phone. You can call if you need me. Whenever.”

  “Thanks.” The light turns green, and he starts to turn left. “Cade—"

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want to go home.”

  He looks at me, head slightly cocked. “No?”

  “No. I need a drink. Or drinks.”

  He chuckles, the easiness back in his mood. His face is sexy. Especially when he smiles.

  “Fair enough. I know exactly where to take you.”

  * * *

  We arrive at a house on the other side of campus. The street is stacked with cars lined nose-to-end.

  When we enter through the dimly lit living room, Cade takes my hand. He leads me through the tightly packed crowd of drunk and dancing partygoers to the kitchen. I am keenly aware he doesn’t let go of my hand once we’re through the mass of people. The kitchen is blindingly bright with a fluorescent light overhead that throws a strange neon glow over every surface and flickers every few seconds.

  “Cade! Bro, how the hell are you?!” A large guy in a red T-shirt booms. He and Cade clasp fists then do that single back slap guy-hug thing. He lets go of my hand to do it. “I got some shots here with your name on them. And your girl.” He looks over Cade’s shoulder at me, eyebrows raised.

  I blush at the idea of people thinking I am Cade’s girl. Like he is a guy to ever have a girl.

  But Cade corrects him. Too quickly. “Nah, this is Tuck’s little sister, Haley.”

  Again with the sister thing. Fuck.

  “Tuck’s sister? Where is that motherfucker? Bring it here, girl.” I don’t even have a chance to comprehend what is happening before he pulls me in and swallows me up in a big bear hug.

  “This is Zain,” Cade tells me when I am released and able to take a breath. Zain clinks four shot glasses down on the counter in front of us and overflows them with whiskey.

  “Two for each of you.”

  Shit. Let’s do this.

  “Cheers.” Cade picks up a shot and hands it to me. I almost drop it when I take the alcohol-covered glass from his slippery fingers. He clanks his against mine and we tip them back fast. It burns going down my throat.

  I need a chaser. No luck.

  Zain slaps Cade hard on the back and they start talking about something. I turn to look back at the shots. I take a deep breath and down my second one quickly before I can lose my nerve. It is worse the second time. I feel the immediate urge to gag. But I don’t.

  When I look back over to the boys, Zain is gone. Cade is a little farther away, standing very close to a girl in a very short skirt. She is smiling up at him, his hands glued to her hips. Right. I roll my eyes. Cade brought me here to drink, not to actually hang out with me.

  Guess I better drink then.

  I pick up the third shot and swallow it without thinking. The third one is easier. I pour another. It goes down by far the easiest.

  I leave Cade to entertain the new chick and find the mass of dancers in the living room very welcoming.

  It’s dimly lit and smells like sweat and beer. Everyone is moving in one giant pulse to the pumping music. I find the rhythm without difficulty as the beat and alcohol engulf me, melting me into a comforting oblivion. The alcohol goes to my head in no time. Other warm, intoxicated bodies rub up against me, the occasional hand on my back.

  He smells like tequila. But he’s cute. Full beard, white shirt. He is dancing near me when he sees me and comes over. He puts his hands on my hips and smiles at me. I am way too drunk.

  “Wanna go find a room?” he whispers into my ear.

  I shake my head at him.

  The next guy to dance with me isn’t so forward. He gets the hint and wanders off when I start dancing more away from him than toward him.

  I’m dancing by myself in a blissful stupor when I feel him behind me.

  I know from his scent right away, and the familiar warmth of his hands. But the way he touches me is not so familiar. I lean back into Cade’s chest and we move together to the music. His hands leave a hot trail where he touches my skin, down my arms, over my ribs, and to my hips. He is so close I wonder if he can feel how hard my blood is pumping.

  He splays his hands over my hip bones and presses me back against his pelvis. He is hard.

  I suddenly have no air in my lungs. He holds me to him tightly as he bends with me, grinding up behind me. We are moving in unison to the beat. Thrusting. I arch against him. His face is right next to mine, mouth open, his breath hot against my cheek. I feel the pressure of his hand move from my hip down the front of my thigh then drag back up the inside of my leg. I am throbbing all over, sweating, panting.

  He turns me around and I can see the lust in his eyes. Our legs intertwine, and his arousal is even more obvious against my thigh. The music is pounding. As we sway together, his eyes are on my mouth. His intake of breath is as rough as my heart thrashing in my chest. His lips part, glossy and swollen. I want those lips on me.

  His hands are at my low back, holding me tight to him as we dip and rub our bodies against one another. He slides his hands down, slowly. They glide to my ass and rest there for a secon
d lightly before they start applying some force against me, sending electricity down my legs. My clit pulses and I feel the wetness spreading in me. I ache for him. His touch is driving me crazy, and the alcohol is making me dizzy.

  I have never been more aroused in my life. Not even an hour ago when I was lying naked on Adam’s bed. My panties are soaked.

  Is he as aware of my wetness as I am of his erection?

  I rub against his leg, the friction of our jeans barely enough to subdue the excruciating ache of my little bud. My arms are wrapped around his neck. It feels like we are surrounded in fire—both covered in sweat. His eyes are closed, our noses almost touching. He bites his lip as he leans toward me. I can smell the whiskey on his breath. I tilt toward him, holding my own breath. I can just feel his bottom lip brush the top of mine when he opens his eyes.

  He backs away from me instantly, breaking our embrace. He looks horrified, clutching his chest, hunching over. I just stand there. Still. My ears pounding with blood and music. He looks at me. I can’t see the liquid blue of his eyes, but they are wide.

  Then he turns and disappears through the crowd.

  * * *

  I look around for Cade but I can’t find him. I do, however, find the bathroom. I sit in there for a little while. The room feels like it is turning over and a sourness is rising from my stomach. I stare into the open toilet, but nothing comes.

  What the hell just happened? With Cade? The way our bodies moved together as we danced hadn’t been friendly. It was sexual, and it had felt so natural. Just thinking about it makes me ache for him. But whatever physical reaction he had, he obviously doesn’t feel that way about me. He’d practically sprinted away from me. Shit, I hope this doesn’t totally ruin everything. I like having Cade as a friend. I rely on him.

  I finally leave the bathroom after about the fifth time someone pounds on the door. A snarky-looking girl with frizzy red hair pushes past me as I wander out toward the living room. Still no Cade. I head to the kitchen and run into Zain in the hallway.

  “Need another drink, girl?”

  “Um, no thanks.”

  “Water?”

  I give him an appreciative thumbs-up. He pours me a big glass of ice water. My head is already starting to pound. Tomorrow is not going to be fun.

  Zain has a concerned look on his previously jovial face. “You’re not driving home are you?”

  “No.” Shit. I have no idea where Cade is. How am I getting home?

  Then Cade comes up behind Zain, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, sir. I’ll be getting her home safe.” Cade looks tired, worried, his hair still perfectly mussed, eyes clear blue. “You ready?”

  He takes my hand and leads me to the car, not saying a word. The ride back to the house is equally silent.

  He seems to be thinking. He is troubled. Is this about me? Of course it is, Haley! He freaked the fuck out after dancing—which was more like dry-humping, and after the almost-kiss...

  Is it because he doesn’t want me or because he doesn’t think I want him? I do want him, but not in the way he normally gives himself to girls—the one-night-only kind of thing.

  I haven’t allowed myself to think about wanting Cade. Or if he wants me too. I am drunk enough, bold enough, to go for it. I need an answer.

  * * *

  When he closes the door behind us, I gather up my nerves and lunge at him. My plan is to land a good, solid kiss that will turn into a hot make out, which will inevitably lead to a marriage proposal.

  I am so drunk.

  He catches me by the shoulders before I am even close, stopping me with little effort.

  “Haley, you are drunk.”

  Clearly.

  It is at this moment I realize that he isn’t. Not even close. And I look like a complete idiot. He is not even the least bit tempted by me. But my drunk brain isn’t very quick at putting this together. I lunge at him again. Of course, he is still holding me back, so this attempt is thwarted as well. This time he isn’t at all amused.

  “What the hell are you doing? Stop it.”

  He pushes me away from him and stalks off toward his bedroom. I follow like the stupid puppy I am. He turns around and glares at me.

  “Seriously, get the fuck away from me!”

  It feels like he just sucker-punched me and I have no air. I want to crumble to the floor. He has never looked at me with those eyes. That look of disgust. I retreat a few steps, afraid he might explode.

  Suddenly, I don’t know the person standing in front of me at all.

  “You and me"—he points between us, a sneer on his face—“is not going to happen. I would never be with you. You’re a naïve little girl.”

  With that he turns and goes into his room, slamming the door behind him.

  I am frozen. I stand in the hallway alone for what seems like an hour. Shocked. At my behavior. At his. How has this night turned so wrong?

  Steam fills the bathroom as I make the water in the shower as hot as it will go. The water beats down on my skin, turning it pink. It rains over my face and all the tension in my body melts with it. I allow the wave of emotion to come. Adam wanted too much, and Cade doesn’t want me at all.

  The look on his face... It was like he hated me.

  The tears running down my face only come out faster as I relive every moment. Then the sobs take over my whole body and I sink down to the tub and sit and cry.

  CHAPTER 8

  I don’t talk to anyone the next day. There are eight missed calls and twelve texts from Adam when I wake up.

  I turn my phone off.

  I stay in my room and do homework then take a nap, too exhausted and hung-over for anything else. I still can’t figure out what happened last night. The one time I do leave my room to get something to eat, I don’t run into anyone. Cade doesn’t seem to be home.

  I go to bed early.

  Monday morning I wake up to the sound of the shower running. I’ve never heard Cade in the shower before me. Maybe I can get us back to our flirty, just-fun relationship we’d had before I went psycho and tried to kiss him. I get up and stride into the hall in just my little white tank top and pink panties. I feel confident until I am eye-to-eye with the bathroom door. Suddenly this seems like a bad idea

  I push that thought from my head and walk in, convinced it will be an ice-breaker so we can put Saturday behind us. The bathroom is steamy, and it smells like that fantastic boy body wash. Like Cade.

  “The fuck?” He sticks his head out of the curtain. Eyes narrowed, jaw tight. Shit.

  “Morning.” I try to be as pleasant and nonchalant as possible. Not weird.

  “Get out.” His face is dead still.

  I try not to let it show, but I know right then my face completely breaks.

  He immediately becomes furious. “I said get the FUCK out!”

  I can’t stop the first tear from falling heavy to my cheek before I run out the door.

  I don’t want to believe how he is treating me. But then I realize I am just like any other girl he is done with. He doesn’t give a shit about them or their feelings. He certainly doesn’t give a shit about me.

  * * *

  After class I decide to walk home instead of bike. It is the first truly cold day of the year. The biting air at my cheeks and nose and the hissing wind through my too-thin jacket keeps me awake.

  When I finally get home and walk inside, the warmth makes my face burn. I drop my things off in the entry and go to the living room. It is empty. The kitchen too. I open the fridge and then I see the cheese. Cheese has never made me cry before, but here I am staring at the fresh mozzarella and ricotta Cade and I bought at the specialty market on Saturday. We were going to make lasagna together tonight.

  But of course, we don’t. I don’t see Cade at all that night. I don’t see him at all that week.

  Tuesday, I skip Professor Trobaugh’s class. I can’t face Adam yet. Jesus, I have never been this much of a wreck before. I have never cried so much over
boys—or let them interfere with schoolwork.

  By Thursday I have convinced myself to go to class. I am an adult. I need to get over it. But when I walk into class, I realize I am so not over it. There, at my desk, is an enormous arrangement of roses. They are yellow, white, and pink—all in various states of bloom, packed tightly in a beautiful crystal vase. There must be three dozen. It is way too much. I feel like turning around on the spot and running out of the classroom. But I don’t. I walk up to my seat and sit in front of my ridiculously huge bouquet of roses. I look around the room, glad I don’t see him. The card reads:

  I’m so sorry.

  Adam

  I’m still not sure how to feel toward Adam. Or these flowers. But they are pretty. And I think I do feel a little better.

  I spend that night alone at the house again. When Adam calls, I answer.

  “I’m so glad you answered. This has been the worst week of my life.”

  I am silent.

  “I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I just need the chance to talk with you. To explain.”

  I still don’t know what to say.

  “Will you come to dinner with me tomorrow?”

  My mouth is open, but I’ve not made a sound.

  “Please?”

  Still nothing.

  “Haley? Are you there?”

  I let out a breath. “Yes.”

  “Yes, you’re there or yes, you’ll have dinner with me?” He sounds so hopeful, just like the sweet Adam I know. I hate that he is cracking me.

  “Well, obviously yes, I’m here.” It feels good to be sarcastic again. “But yes, I will see you tomorrow too.”

  “You will?”

  I can hear his smile over the phone.

  * * *

  Friday night I get ready in my room. I leave my hair down and put on my favorite pair of tight jeans and my brown leather riding boots. I wasn’t planning on going for sexy, but I must admit my butt looks pretty good in these jeans. I am admiring the tight fit in the mirror when the doorbell rings. Adam is at least fifteen minutes early. That is very unlike him. I guess he is anxious to see me. That thought makes my heart flutter.

  But when I skip out to the living room and around the corner to the front door, Cade has beaten me to it. I didn’t even know Cade was home. He is standing there with the door open, Adam’s on the porch, looking confused, and Cade is seething.