by Henry, Max
“I can’t stand you either.”
He watches every word as it falls from my lips. “Good.”
I blink, and the tiny space between us vanishes. Head tilted to one side, Tuck leans down and presses his lips against mine. With a slow and steady sweep, he tastes me, as though he needs convincing that this is what he wants.
I guess I must be pleasing to the palate.
One steady hand moves to my waist, his chest heavy against my own as Tuck bends me backward over the counter and takes a second helping. All I can do is set my hands on his biceps to steady myself and enjoy the buffet. His lips are surprisingly soft, yet his kiss firm, commanding.
Sure.
The dark room door opens. “Oh, um, sorry.” A curly-haired girl stands frozen as it smacks into her back.
Tuck takes a step back and lifts his arm to wipe his mouth, gaze fixed on me. I want to stamp my foot and curse at the loss.
My heart races against my rib cage, my hands shaking where they rest on the counter. All the logical thoughts that should have passed through my mind the previous ten seconds smack hoe with incredible force.
Why would he do that?
What if this is his game?
Why did I show such weakness?
I should have pushed him off and taken control of the situation.
I’m drowning in his presence, devoid of air and the clarity that comes with it as long as I stay in the same room as him. With a fleeting glance toward the nervous girl who moves toward the chemicals, I make a snap decision and flee.
I have never been the girl to flee. What is he doing to me? My breath comes in raspy, deep gasps as I dive for my satchel, gaining Mr Miller’s attention.
Tuck emerges behind me. “Lacey.”
“What’s the matter?” Mr Miller asks, taking a step toward me.
I sidestep him, careful not to look Tuck’s way, and head for the exit. “I need fresh air,” I say. “The chemical smell got to me.”
Mr Miller nods and then glances toward Tuck. I have no idea what the jerk does, but whatever it is, all I can hear as I sprint down the corridor is Mr Miller calling his name.
I need to get outside.
I need to think this through.
I need … I need …
I don’t know what the hell I need anymore.
Colt’s Explorer is right where he tells me I can find it after my rushed message, parked in the staff lot to the left of administration. I pull out my key—the one Colt gave me for emergencies such as this—and unlock it. The indicators flash, drawing my eye to the scratches in the paintwork and the dent at the bottom of the sill.
Dad’s going to flip. One prank has probably devalued the car by half.
I tear the driver’s door open and jump inside, immediately lighter when the thud of the door behind me signals safety.
Safety from what, I don’t know. I played that game as much as Tuck did, but the difference is, I know what my intentions behind it were, not his. And they changed dramatically within mere minutes.
I liked the way he felt pressed against me. I found myself comfortable with him.
You’re weak, is all. Too many major changes in our lives of late have left me desperate for comfort. Yeah. That’s all it is. My emotions scramble, and I’m searching out affection in the strangest of places.
Or maybe my period is due? Hormones are always whacked before that starts.
I check the calendar on my phone. Nope. Another week and a half for that pain in my arse.
Damn it.
The passenger door opens, startling me from my reverie. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You don’t get to walk away from me,” Tuck growls, slamming the door behind him.
“Says who?”
“Me.” His nostrils flare, the intensity of his stare reawakening all the parts of my body I’d only just managed to calm down.
“I need time alone.”
“Why?”
“Why the hell not?” I snap. “Get out of my brother’s car.”
“Make me.”
My chest rises rapidly, the rage inside me reaching boiling point. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? My hands on you. Another notch in your belt.”
He leans back and tugs his shirt up, displaying the barest hint of gloriously tan and hard abdominals. “Does my belt have fucking notches?”
I don’t know; I’m not exactly looking at it. “I suppose not.”
He drops his shirt. Damn it. “Why did you take off?” His tone softens as he leans in again.
“I need to think, and it’s a little hard when you’re all up in my face.”
“You were the one who ground her fucking arse into my dick, and yet you’re behaving like I tried to jump you.”
My gasp amplifies inside the car. “You did jump me! I wasn’t the one who decided we should kiss.”
“Was that so wrong?” He cocks an eyebrow.
I don’t know what the hell to say. So I stare out the windshield instead.
“Admit it,” he mutters. “You started it, so why back out of it?”
“I started nothing,” I growl. “You were the one feeling me up in the dark room.”
“I was instructing you,” he snaps, folding his arms as he slumps back in the seat.
“You instruct everyone like that?” I sass.
He smirks, peeking at me from the side of his eye. “Only the pretty blonde ones.”
“Amber must love it.” Where the hell did that jealous quip come from?
He slowly turns toward me. “I fucking told you, you want me.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“It pays to be.” He shrugs. “Makes life easier.”
Silence falls between us. I fidget with the sides of my phone, gaze locked on it while he huffs from the other side of the car.
“Can we do it again?” Tuck asks quietly.
“You have to be joking.” I drop my head to the steering wheel.
I meant teaching you how to develop film,” he chuckles before adding on a whisper, “As nice as your tongue in my mouth was and all.”
I can’t help myself—I laugh. The whole scenario is absurd and confusing all at once. If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.
“Tuck Brallant and Lacey Williams. Report to administration.”
I groan at the deafening PA announcement. “Great.”
He bumps me on the arm, smiling. “Now, everyone knows how bad you want me.”
“Whatever.” I exit the vehicle and wait for him to follow suit before I lock it again.
I don’t get more than two steps around the back of the SUV before he cuts me off with his large and muscular frame. “I’m serious, Lacey. I like how that felt being up against you, kissing you.” He fingers the end of my hair, brushing my collarbone.
“I feel so special,” I dismiss with a roll of my eyes.
The side of his finger flicks my peaked nipple, evident against my thin shirt. I jerk back, jaw damn near on the ground.
“Your body tells me you liked it too,” he states matter-of-factly.
“Don’t you dare touch me without my permission again.”
Hands raised, he backs away. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, right?”
Damn it. He has a point. I did press up against him knowingly without his express permission. Ugh. Equal rights can be such a bitch at times.
“Come on, baby,” he calls out, already on his way toward the admin building. “They’re expecting us.”
“I am not your baby!”
“Tell that to your nipples.”
^*^
Mrs Blowers peers over the reception desk at the two of us; her gaze flicks back and forth as though she tries to figure out what the deal between Tuck and I is. Good luck with that. Even I’m not sure.
He makes out as though he truly likes me, but I’ve played this game before. He’s the sacrifice. The one sent in to soften me so that I show my weak side.
Theoretically
offer my throat to the wolves.
I’m not that easy.
“Mr Brallant.” I have no idea who the guy who steps up and opens the partition is, but I have my money on it being our Principal, Mr George Rothwell. “And Miss Williams. Follow me.”
I scowl across to where Tuck lounges on the opposite side of the reception from me, and stand. He does the same, acting all courteous and genuine when he extends an arm for me to go first.
We’re led further down the offices than I went on my first day, past vacant rooms to one that takes up the entire far end of the building. This guy is definitely in charge of the school by the looks of this. The room is easily thirty feet wide and twenty deep. A huge mahogany desk sits proudly before two stained glass windows, the rear wall of the office left exposed in the same stonework as the exterior of the building.
Mr Rothwell, gestures to the two leather wingbacks, angled toward his desk and then heads around to his identical seat on the far side. “Please, get comfortable.”
I sit first, confirming on the brass nameplate that this is indeed our Principal. As though this room leaves any doubt. Envy stirs in my gut when I take in the vast array of books showcased on the wall to my left. The matching bookcases on the right are reserved for awards and various pictures.
“Who would like to go first and explain to me why you both took it upon yourselves to end your lesson early?” Mr Rothwell folds his large hands before him on the desk.
He’s every part as vintage as this school: silver hair and a matching trimmed beard adding sophistication to his black blazer and dark denim. Even in jeans, this man makes me feel inferior. Who the hell am I anymore? I mentally roll my eyes at myself.
“Ladies first,” Tuck drawls.
I flash him a filthy look and then adjust my seat as per my training. Legs folded neatly, feet to one side, I set my hands in my lap and start with a smile.
Mr Rothwell seems unimpressed.
Damn.
“As I told Mr Miller, when I left the classroom, I felt nauseous from the developing chemicals. Being my first lesson, I haven’t accustomed myself to the smell yet.”
Mr Rothwell grunts. “And you, Mr Brallant?”
“I was assigned as her learning partner, so when she bolted, naturally, I was concerned for her welfare.”
“I’m told another student witnessed the two of you in what appeared to be a confrontation before you left, Miss Williams. Can you elaborate?”
If that’s what the girl thinks confrontation looks like, I hope for her sake she never walks in on her parents “fighting”. I sigh, eyes down yet chin high, and answer. “Mr Brallant thought I was being a little dramatic, you know, as most boys do.” It’s the best excuse I can come up with when I have no notice.
Tuck huffs as Mr Rothwell swings his gaze across. “Mr Brallant. Is this so?”
“I thought that she could get enough air in the classroom.” He shrugs, slumping in the seat.
I peek across at him, curious that he ran with my bullshit. He meets my gaze, and then promptly fixes a hard stare back on Mr Rothwell.
“Well,” our Principal announces, rising from his seat. “As long as that’s the truth, then I can let this incident pass with no more than a warning. But do not fall under the illusion that I take an absence from class lightly. You are here to learn. Our teachers provide their time generously for you to excel. If you feel overwhelmed again, Miss Williams, I would appreciate you discussing the best approach with Mr Miller rather than taking it upon yourself to leave.”
I shrink. “Yes, Mr Rothwell.”
“And Mr Brallant.” He pauses to chuckle darkly. “You and I have quite the history, so don’t think for one second I believe that you were merely concerned for Miss Williams’s welfare.” He sets his steely gaze on Tuck. “Considering what I dealt with this morning involving Colt Williams and your friend Johnson Davis, I would be utterly disappointed if I found you were in any way harassing Miss Williams.”
“He wasn’t,” I blurt out, leaning forward. “He really did come to see if I was okay.” My heart gallops in my chest. I daren’t look at Tuck.
Not when I can feel the heat of his gaze on me already.
I’m in trouble, all right—deep trouble.
Just not with the faculty.
Give me strength.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Colt asks as we pull out of the staff carpark at the end of the day.
I shrink down in the seat, keeping a cursory eye on Amber out my window as she walks out to Johnson’s truck with another taller, more athletic girl.
“I got sick from the chemicals in photography.”
He huffs, glaring at Johnson as we pass by the vehicle. “Sure. Whatever.”
“I did,” I protest, straightening in my seat when we reach the safety of the intersection.
“Then why didn’t you go to the sick bay? Why run out to the car, Lace?” Colt glances across as he turns us toward home.
I slump against my door, watching him as he drives. He looks stressed. Drawn out and tired. “How was your day?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not. I genuinely want to know.” I nudge his leg with my knuckles. “What happened this morning after I had to leave?”
He exhales heavily out his nose, hands tightening on the wheel. “I had to wait for the farm manager to come lift the car off the wall.” His lip twitches. “That arsehole refused to do it. He walked away. Not a care in the fucking world.”
“Surely he got in trouble.” I frown.
“I don’t know, Lace.” His shoulders drop with resignation. “Nobody told me anything after that except that they’d put the car in the teacher’s lot so nobody would mess with it again.”
“What are you going to tell Dad?”
Colt ducks his head to check the side mirror. “I don’t know.” He seems distracted, angered even.
My blood cools, the icy feeling creeping out to my limbs as I twist in the seat to look out the rear window. Sure enough, Johnson tails us. Close enough that I can distinguish every detail of Amber’s evil grin in the passenger seat.
“Don’t engage,” I plead. “Just let them be idiots and leave.” My pulse throbs painfully in my neck.
I look to Colt, worried he’s about to do something stupid in the heat of the moment with me in the vehicle.
His nostrils flare, his broad chest slowly rising as he licks his bottom lip and then runs it between his teeth. “Fuck.”
“Let it go,” I demand. “They aren’t worth it.”
“I don’t like to lose, Lace.”
“I know, but they aren’t our people.” I reach across and set my hand on his arm. “You don’t need to prove a thing.”
Johnson gets closer. I can’t even make out the front of his truck anymore. I catch the twitch of Colt’s leg.
“No.” I’ve never used this much force with my brother before, but damn. He can’t do that. “Don’t you dare touch that brake.”
“Not my fault if he’s following too close.”
Damn it. I know that tone. I’ve lost Colt to his anger. He’s determined now, and all I can do is lessen the effect. “It’s not safe,” I snap. “If you want to be silly with them, you do it when I’m not in your car, damn it.”
“You won’t get hurt, Lace.”
“Colt!”
He ignores me, eyes on the mirrors more than the road. We accelerate toward the next intersection where a car slows ahead of us to negotiate the turn. My neck snaps left and right as I try to keep eyes on both our tail and the vehicle in front.
Colt isn’t slowing down.
“Fuck it!” I scream, hands fisted. “Don’t you dare, Colt Williams. Don’t you dare.”
“Trust me, Lace,” he booms back. “I know what the hell I’m doing.”
He’s unfazed by my out of character cursing—this isn’t good.
“Slow down.”
With the kind of malicious grin I’ve only ever seen my br
other use on his enemies, he smiles at me and then hits the brake—hard. My hands fly out to brace me on the dashboard. My body is thrown forward first with the inertia, and then again when Johnson smashes into the tailgate of the Explorer.
“Let me out,” I demand, the tremor in my voice undeniable.
“And what?” Colt asks, grinning at the mirror as he pulls away. “You’ll walk?”
“I don’t know!” I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe he caused an accident out of spite.
“It’s safer for you in the car anyway,” he says, laughing. “He is fuming.”
Nothing about this is funny. Colt endangered me. My protector put revenge over that of the wellbeing of his flesh and blood.
“I hate you,” I murmur, arms folded. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”
“Oh, get over it,” he scathes seconds before Johnson tags us again.
“Christ’s sake!” I cry, spinning around in my seat to scream at the back window. “Stop it!”
Amber laughs, her head thrown back in glee, and I soon realise why.
Johnson has bull bars. His truck is protected by a thick rod of steel crafted for just this purpose: to keep the impact from damaging his vehicle.
I can only imagine how the Explorer looks.
“You realise you’re making an idiot of yourself, Colt? He has bars on his truck. This is fun for him.”
“Shut up and sit down, Lacey!”
“Was what he did this morning really worth this?” I shriek. “You could have left him alone, ignored him, and let him get bored with the chase.”
“Don’t question what you don’t understand.” He jerks his head toward me, the look in his eye withering.
“Just get us home in one piece,” I mutter back, every cell in my body itching to crawl out of this damn car and be as far from my brother as humanly possible right now.
A flash of white draws my eye to the side mirror in time to catch Johnson abruptly pull down the last side road before we hit the short stretch of open highway between Arcadia and our house. Relief floods me thick and fast; they won’t know where we live. Although, in a small town like this, I imagine the information wouldn’t be hard to come by.
“If Dad asks, he hit me first,” Colt grumbles.