His Lucky Penny (The Penny Books, #1)

by LL Meyer

  Déjà vu hits me; this is the second time, no the third, that she’s lost it. If I include what happened at the beach, it’s three out of six days. Logically, I should be long gone from her. She’s obviously damaged by what’s happened to her. Probably more damaged than she even realizes. Jesus, she was delusional just now.

  Would the drama lessen with time? I hate drama. It’s part of the reason that I rarely sleep with the same girl twice. After that, they start texting and calling and generally being a pain in the ass. Something about that thought rings a bell. I won’t bother you after this. That’s what she’d said. No wonder she was upset; she knows exactly who I am. She’s waiting for the shoe to drop. So the question is, why hasn’t it? Am I just prolonging the inevitable? Making it so that it will hurt her worse in the future? Yeah, right. Hurt her? Like she’s the only one who would feel that pain.

  Maybe, just maybe, I could have done it earlier this week. But now? Letting her go is a total fantasy. She’s beautiful, smart, and fun . . . but broken.

  She’s paranoid that someone’s going to hurt her, but considering what she’s been through, isn’t that understandable? Especially since someone’s been screwing with her mind, over and over, after the fact. The thought of leaving her to deal with that alone is totally unacceptable. I can’t do it; I won’t do it. And then I’m reminded what she told me earlier and I feel worse than I did when she first told me. She’s lonely, and it was like I had deigned to spend five minutes of my time with her, mostly just feeling her up and then sending her on her way. God, how is it possible to feel this shitty, but want to go back for more?

  And there it is. I do want more; more of her. Whether it’s shitty or wonderful, I want it all. And I want all the strings attached, so she won’t want to leave me when I answer all the questions that are going to inevitably come up. Is that fucked up? That I want her to be so tangled in me that she won’t find her way out again? Probably, but the other option is totally unthinkable. I promise myself to do better than I did this afternoon. I’ll be straight with her and tell her how much I want her around. She has nothing to worry about.

  I fall asleep beside her with all of this in my head and for once in my life the idea of someone getting close to me isn’t the suffocating blanket it’s always been.

  When I wake, the room is fairly dark and I don’t feel her beside me anymore. Reaching for the lamp beside the bed, I push down the worry that’s trying to swamp me. Against the sudden glare of the light, I find her sitting up with her back to the headboard, a pillow pulled to her chest.

  I give her a weak smile. She just stares back, looking incredibly miserable. Practically flinching when I move to sit beside her, she gives me a look that tells me she believes this thing between us is over. But my earlier resolve hasn’t lessened, and nothing she says or does is going to deter me.

  Our shoulders touch, and I feel her relax a tiny bit. “So do you want the long version or the shortish version?” I ask, repressing a grin.

  Her answering smile is so hesitant that it almost breaks my heart.

  “It’s been thirteen years since I lived through the worst period of my life,” I say. My stomach quivers strangely, and I’m suddenly glad we’re not sitting face to face. The TV across from us becomes my focal point.

  “The worst thing about that year? My parents were gone, but the rest of my life was almost identical. I moved across the street into Jason’s house, into his room, where I’d slept over a million times before. But now, I couldn’t go home. Sometimes I would stare at my old house . . .” My throat tightens so sharply that I have to stop. I never talk about this. Never.

  It takes me about a minute before I can go on. “Anyway, I went to the same school, had the same friends, played the same sports on the same teams. Jason’s parents did everything to keep my life stable and familiar. And I would sometimes hear adults saying how well I seemed to be doing, considering everything. But on the inside . . .” I need to stop again, but this time she lays her head on my shoulder.

  “On the inside, I wanted to scream. How could my life continue when they were just . . . gone? I could barely stand the huge, empty hole inside of me.” I suck in a deep breath and hold it for a moment. “I was able to keep it up for a year, but when I hit fifteen, I told Sandy I didn’t want to do the soccer, or the lacrosse, or especially the baseball anymore. I didn’t want to do things that reminded me that they weren’t here anymore.”

  “Is Sandy Jason’s mom?”

  I nuzzle her a bit. “Yeah. And she was pretty worried about leaving a fifteen-year-old with nothing to fill his time with. And of course, soon Jason wanted the same. But we both kept our grades up, so his parents left us to ourselves. And that’s when we discovered sex.”

  I feel her smile against my shoulder as she kisses it.

  “Sex had no connection to my parents, and I couldn’t get enough. Fucking girls was the ultimate distraction. In the moment when I came, everything was right with the world.”

  I sigh, because here’s where the screwed up part comes in. And I’m only going to tell her half of the story. The other half would have her back on the bathroom floor, I’m sure.

  “But I wasn’t interested in the girls themselves, just their parts. By junior year, Jason and I figured out that girls were more willing to put out if they were guaranteed their own endings.” That makes me laugh a bit. “As you know, orgasms in high school are few and far between for girls. And that got us a reputation, and soon girls were calling us. Complete strangers from other schools even.” I cringe a bit. “When I say it out loud, it sounds really bad,” I tell her.

  She giggles a bit, and it gladdens my heart.

  “So anyway, that’s how it started in the beginning. But it’s been ten years since then, and I’ve thought about it a few times. I know that I don’t want to get close to anyone because that would open me up to the possibility of hurting. Not that I’m expecting girls to die in car crashes, but as you know, there are other ways to disappear.”

  We’re both quiet after that, just sitting together, thinking our own thoughts.

  “Lil?”

  “Yeah?” She still sounds wary.

  “I don’t want you to go. Can we maybe trade something?”

  “What?” It’s not a ‘what can we trade?’ It’s a ‘what are you talking about?’ But I press on.

  “I promise to keep you safe, if you promise not to rip my heart out.”

  I can’t look at her, but the silence is killing me. Maybe keeping her safe isn’t what she wants.

  “But what about my heart?” she whispers in a voice that tells me she thinks she’s pushing her luck.

  I turn to look at her in relief. “Your heart is included in all this,” I say with a smile, making the squiggly line. “But I warn you now, I have no experience with considering other people’s feelings, and I’m bossy and moody.”

  She looks like the world’s a brand new place as she smiles. “That’s okay, I’m prone to meltdowns.”

  I desperately want to kiss her. “Is that a yes, Pretty Girl?”

  “Yes. I promise not to rip your heart out.”

  “Then, I’ll keep you safe.”

  Our lips brush and soon we’re making out like teenagers. When her stomach growls, we stop mid-kiss and laugh.

  I look over at the clock. 9:02. No wonder we’re hungry. “You good with Chinese?” I ask as I sit up already with my cell phone in hand.

  She arches a brow at me. “You’ve got Chinese food on speed dial?”

  I hold up my finger as someone answers on the other end and I order my and Jason’s regular.

  “And who says I’m going to like whatever’s in dinner for four?” she asks.

  I grin at her. “Is that Sarcastic Lily?”

  She grins back. “Yes, and you must be Bossy Dane?”

  I chuck my phone beside us so I can push her down on the bed. “Sarcastic Lily is a total turn-on,” I tell her, straddling her and then pinning her hands on either sid
e of her head.

  “No, no more being turned on,” she laughs. “You promised to keep me safe.”

  “Hmmm, I suppose you’re right. But I know I could make you come without inserting a single thing.”

  I almost laugh at the expression on her face. It’s a cross between awe and terror, so I quickly put her out of her misery. “Don’t worry. We’ll save that for later. There’s not nearly enough time between now and when the food will come to do a proper job.”

  “Dane! Don’t say things like that.”

  A red-hot blush blooms on her chest, so I lean in to taste her burning skin. I groan. “Okay, maybe we’ll have to choose a safer room to hang out in.”

  “Let’s go make the wish,” she suggests, obviously glad for the distraction.

  “Okay.” I help her up and grab some shorts from my closet. When we’re passing by the bathroom, she starts to go in. “Where you going?”

  “To get some underwear.”

  “Ah, no.”

  “What?”

  “No underwear,” I tell her.

  She licks her lips nervously. “What? Why not?”

  “Because I said so.”

  She’s hesitant. I know I’m not going to force her not to wear underwear, but she doesn’t.

  “Fine,” she tells me with a bit of sulking as we start down the stairs. “But I think I should have some kind of veto when you get too bossy.”

  “We’ll do one better. We’ll get you a safeword. That way when you use it, I’ll know that you’re serious.”

  “A safeword?”

  “Yeah,” I tell her. “But you can’t be using it willy-nilly. You should only use it if you really need me to stop.”

  She laughs. “Willy-nilly?”

  “That’s right. You should start thinking about the word you want. It has to be something that you wouldn’t say in normal conversation, a word that you would have to consciously pull into your head to say it.”

  Her sneakers are at the garage door where she left them. “So no is out?”

  I roll my eyes.

  “How about penny?” she asks as she pulls her lucky penny out of her shoe.

  I shoot her a smile. “Penny it is.”

  The sun has set, but the sky isn’t quite dark yet. We walk hand in hand across the grass in our bare feet toward the wishing well. I realize that this might be the first time that I’ve ever thought about my parents without being sad. I’m now positive that I’ve made the right decision about us. She’s absolutely worth fighting for. I mean, who picks up pennies off the street anyway? I smile to myself. My mom would have.

  We pick our way over the rocks to stand in front of the wishing well. “On three?” I ask.

  “Wait! What if I already got what I wished for?”

  If I hadn’t known before, I know now. I love her. Her face is alive with happiness in the low light, and I love her so much it almost hurts. “Well, think fast then ‘cause this penny is going in. One, two, three!”

  Together, we let it go, and I wait for the clink as it hits the bottom.

  “There’s other coins in there?” she asks, wide-eyed.

  “Well, of course,” I scoff. “It wouldn’t be much of a wishing well if the coins were rolled for beer money on a regular basis.”

  She giggles and it’s the best sound ever.

  On the way back, as we pass the pool, she asks, “Are you finally going to let me go swimming later?”

  “Sure,” I say, but then grin at her. “As long as we go naked.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “And if I were to call ‘penny,’ would you be ‘annoyed’?” She makes air quotes on both words, making me laugh.

  “Probably. But would you really use your word over skinny-dipping? Especially when it’s just the two of us?”

  She sticks her tongue out at me. “Probably not.”

  “Good to know.”

  She looks up at me with those beautiful amber eyes. “But I could if I wanted to, right?” There’s no joking in her voice now.

  I stop and take her face in my hands. “Yes, you could. Anytime you want.”

  The relief on her face is clear as I lean down to kiss her softly. My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I pull it out as we keep walking. “Food’s here.”

  “Your doorbell’s connected to your phone?”

  “It’s a big house. You want to eat out here on the porch?” I hit the light switch.

  “Sure, I’m just going to get a sweater.”

  At the staircase, I pull her back and reach up under her dress to pinch her bare ass. “Just no underwear, right?”

  “Dane!” she screeches with laughter, trying to smack my hand away.

  “What?! Just checking.”

  I’ve entered the Twilight Zone. Things have gone from absolute rock-bottom to rainbow heights in the space of an evening. The rock-bottom left me disturbed and completely exhausted. It’s been more than a year since my last panic attack. I don’t know why it happens sometimes; I guess the right combination of stress, or maybe the wrong, and my brain shuts down. And now? Rainbow heights. I’ve come to what I think is an important conclusion. I won’t ask myself why he wants me anymore. What’s important is that he does. And after melting down again, there’s no more doubt that that statement is accurate.

  So, his confession, a wish, Chinese food, and skinny-dipping. What more could a girl ask for? Absolutely nothing. I’ve never been happier.

  The hot water currently sluicing down my back is not quite enough to distract me from the fact that he’s sitting on the sink watching me shower, though. I protested when he moved all my stuff to his room, reminding him that he said there’d be no more of that today, to which he said something like, “What’s life without a little temptation?”

  The weight of his eyes is nerve-racking. My heartbeat is thumping in my ears, and my hands shake a bit as I rinse my hair, but I can live with that. The greater problem is the insistent swollen aching between my legs. He’s been making sexually charged comments all night, and while my brain has predictably been slightly mortified, my body has responded with enthusiasm. And to add to the mortification, he knows about the enthusiasm, which only adds to the swollen aching. I’m dying to give my clit a bit of a nudge to take the edge off, but he’s watching me, which only adds . . . yeah, you get the picture.

  Turning the water off, I wring my hair out and then step out of the same kind of glass shower that’s in the other bathroom. He passes me the towel that’s beside him on the sink, and then while I’m drying myself, he watches me hungrily.

  “You can use the shower now,” I tell him, put out by his continued surveillance.

  He smirks. “I much prefer what’s going on out here.”

  “But nothing’s going on out here.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ.”

  “Do you?”

  “I do.”

  Okay, I can’t help but break down and smile. Wrapping my hair in another towel, I turn to face him. “You don’t have a blow-dryer somewhere around here, do you?”

  He raises a brow. “If I did, you’d be a man.”

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I say as I leave the room to find something to wear to bed.

  “Hey, Lil?”

  I turn back. “Yeah?”

  “No clothes in my bed.”

  “Dane.” I’m definitely annoyed now. He’s so bossy. About everything.

  And again with the eyebrow. “Yes?”

  He’s daring me to use that word. “Nothing,” I say sullenly, leaving him to his smirk and his shower. I don’t know if I like this safeword thing. I mean, what’s he playing at anyway? A safeword? It’s ridiculous. Shouldn’t it be enough for me to say “forget it” or “yeah, right”? This stupid word is supposed to give me control, but it’s obviously working in his favor. I feel that if I use it, it would be a big deal. Somehow it’s forcing me to accept things I’m sure I would put a stop to otherwise; i.e., the lack of underwear, the s
kinny-dipping, the shower ogling, and now, the no clothes in his bed. Maybe I actually like being told what to do. The thought sends another twinge to my nether regions.

  I dig my brush out of my purse and run it through my wet hair and towel it dry again. I do this a few times before I realize that he’s taking an awful long time in the shower. Is he jerking off? The idea has me back in the bathroom in two seconds flat. But while he’s not masturbating, I’m not disappointed either. His arms are holding him up against the tile as the water falls from the showerhead in the ceiling. He rolls his neck, obviously enjoying the feel of the hot water that’s running down every surface of that incredible body. And he’s got a raging hard-on, the sight of which has me aching even more.

  Like any warm-blooded heterosexual female would, I decide to stay and enjoy the show.

  After he shuts the water off, he’s a bit surprised to find me sitting in the same spot he was. I pass him a towel, and then go back to alternating between brushing and towel-drying my hair, trying my best to ignore the way he’s watching my bare breasts. For once, I’m glad they are the way they are. They weren’t an asset in gymnastics or any other sport for that matter, and my three-minute true love hadn’t liked the way other guys would look at them, and after what happened my freshman year, neither had I, so I’ve worn sports bras my whole life to try to hold them down and keep them hidden. But Dane seems to love them, and I love that. I idly wonder if my wanting to please him so much is going to get me into trouble one day.

  I realize I’m staring at his cock again when Dane calls me back to Earth. “You know,” he says wryly, “you’re just going to antagonize him.”

  My eyes shoot to his, and I feel like I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Predictably, I’m turning red, which pushes me to talk back to him. “Well, I don’t know about antagonizing him, but I think I might want a taste.”