A blond girl about seven or eight years old skips ahead of us as her mom window shops, and I stumble.
Xavier tightens his grip on my hand. “You okay?”
I stare at the girl, who’s oblivious to the people around her as she dances around a bench. Her blond hair is the same length as mine—not that that means anything—and her blue eyes sparkle in the light shining from the storefronts. “Yeah. I must have tripped or something.”
He steps between me and the girl, and I look up at him. “Your face is pale. What happened?”
The mother fetches the girl and they enter a toy store.
“Brianna.”
I like that he uses my full name. I’ve never minded the shortened Bri, but my name sounds different in his mouth. The R rolls a little and the As have a softer sound, like ahh, instead of the nasally way everyone else says it.
He touches my cheek. “Talk to me.”
The girl and her mother are gone, but I close my eyes against the memory. “It’s stupid. There was a little girl and she looked enough like me that I wondered if she could be my sister. Which made me wonder if her mom is my dad’s new girlfriend or whatever he’s calling her. And then I went down a wormhole wondering if I’ve been in the same place as them before.”
He looks over his shoulder, and he’s frowning when he faces me again.
“They’re gone now,” I say.
“That must really suck. The not knowing.”
I shrug. “It’s so new I don’t really know what to think. Part of me wants to meet her, but it’s not like we’ll ever be close like you and Lily, so what’s the point?”
“Meet her and see what happens.”
“Just call my dad and tell him I want to come over?”
He rubs his hand up and down my arm. “If you want to meet her, you might have to be the one to make the effort. He might think you want nothing to do with them.”
“You’re probably right.” This whole time I’ve put the responsibility on Dad—I mean, he is the one who caused all this—and assumed that since he left, any future contact would be initiated by him. I’m still pissed he just walked out of our lives, but knowing I have a sister out there—correction. Not out there. In the same fricking town—makes me willing to look past all that.
We stop in front of a coffee shop but my usual latte sounds boring after that flavor-fest of a meal. “Are you okay with ice cream?” It’s so cold out I can see my breath, but I don’t care.
He takes my hand. “Sure.”
Just then, something inside the coffee shop catches my eye. The tables are packed with the after-dinner crowd so I’m not sure how I even saw her, but Miss Simpson is sitting at a table in the center of the room, sipping from a ceramic cup. Teachers are obviously allowed to have a life outside of school, but that’s not what makes me pause.
She’s on a date.
The guy’s face is blocked by someone putting on their coat, but from the way her eyes light up when she smiles, she seems really into him. She laughs and reaches across the table for his hand just as Coat Guy moves and my eyes widen.
She’s on a date with the owner of Calliope Brewery, one of Mischief’s competitors. He’s a good looking guy and part of me is like Go Miss Simpson, but that’s not what’s got me itching to pull out my phone and snap a pic and announce her date on social media.
The guy is Cally’s dad.
Gossip was my lifeblood for so long that I can’t stop the excitement that pulses through me. The ways I can use this to my advantage are endless, starting with simply embarrassing Cally and ending with spreading rumors that she’s only passed Miss Simpson’s classes because her dad is sleeping with the teacher. Never mind that it probably isn’t true. Having people hang on my every word, their eyes widening as I feed them more lies, is addictive. And I’ve gone without a fix for too long.
My hand, the one Xavier’s not holding, caresses my phone in my pocket. It’d be so easy. Even without a picture, I could have the entire school talking about this before the end of our date.
But with a picture…
It’s like I’m caught on the edge of good and evil, balancing what I know is right with what will make me feel powerful, even if it’s short-lived.
Before I can second-guess myself, I swipe the screen to open the camera. Xavier’s not looking, and it only takes a second to aim my phone at the window, capture their date for all the school to see, and tuck my phone back into my pocket.
His thumb trails over the back of my hand, snapping me out of my gossip-fueled euphoria. The adrenaline that had my senses humming half a second ago ends abruptly.
I don’t want to be that person anymore.
But it’s too late.
“What is it?” Xavier asks.
How would he react if he knew what I just did? Or that he’s making me want to change? “I saw one of my teachers. Weirded me out, you know?” I force an innocent smile, one that masks the nasty thoughts that raced through my mind.
“You sure that’s it? You seemed, I don’t know, like you were someplace else.” His brows lower like he’s trying to figure me out, but I’m a pro at hiding my thoughts.
“Nope. I don’t want to be anywhere but here, with you.” This time my smile is real, and the softness in his smile makes my pulse race—for good reasons this time.
We continue along the mall to the ice cream shop, and once we get our cones, I push the photo out of my mind. We settle into a table near the window and two bites in, I realize my mistake. Watching the concentration on his face as he eats—no, licks—an ice cream cone is a slow torture, and the heat that’s building inside me is enough to melt my ice cream before I have a chance to eat it.
He catches me ogling him and pauses. A drop of mint chocolate chip clings to his upper lip and it takes all my willpower not to climb over the table and lick it off. “Why aren’t you eating yours?” he asks, oblivious to the effect he’s having on me.
“Just thinking.” I lick around the edge of the cone—plain chocolate chip for me—and almost choke when I swallow. The same heat I felt a moment ago is plain in his eyes, and now his cone is the one that’s melting.
“Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.” His voice is low. Under the table, his foot bumps mine and I press my leg against his. A blush creeps up my cheeks.
“That’s pretty much what I was thinking.”
He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Ay, querida, lo que me haces.”
I don’t know what the second part means, but I’ve figured out that querida means lover or love or something similar, and from the way he’s looking at me, I’m guessing the rest of what he said is good.
My ice cream is legitimately melting, but now I’m so self-conscious about eating it that I can’t move. Old Brianna would tease him, making my cone as seductive as possible, but now those games seem childish. And pointless.
Because I don’t think I need to convince him of anything.
I finally smile. “Okay, I need to eat this before it melts but I can’t do it with you looking at me.”
He bursts out laughing and criss-crosses his finger over his chest. “Promise.”
We dig in, each catching the other watching through lowered lashes. When I get to the end of my cone, I shove it in my mouth with a flourish and pump my arms over my head like I finished a race. He does the same and we’re laughing so hard I don’t care that my mouth is full or that people at the other tables are staring at us. Getting through that cone was rough.
“You ready?” he asks after we’ve calmed down. I nod, and he leads me outside and toward his car in silence. He pries the door open for me and I climb in, barely noticing the ridiculous door. What makes this boy so special that I want to change for him? Before, I wouldn’t be caught within breathing distance of this car, and now I can’t wait for him to be in here with me.
He gets in, starts the car, and faces me, and the desire is so strong it’s like a physical pull. We crash into each other, lips on lips,
hands in each other’s hair, no room for breathing or thinking or anything but feeling. His mouth slides over my jaw to my neck, and settles at the sensitive spot beneath my ear. I exhale, but it comes out a soft moan, and his arms tighten around me. He pulls back to look in my eyes and time seems to stand still. We barely know each other, yet I feel like I know everything I need to. His heart, his determination to keep those he cares about safe, and the way he makes me want to be a better person.
I turn his head and my lips find the tiny hoop in his ear. The hard metal is cool against my tongue and his breath hitches as I run my lips over his skin. Then our mouths connect, and I lose myself in him.
Voices drift through the closed windows and he ends the kiss, resting his cheek against mine. We’re both breathing heavily and neither of us seems willing to let go, but when I finally open my eyes, I laugh. The windows are completely fogged up.
The voices outside the car turn to laughter and I hide my face against his neck. “Guess it’s pretty obvious what we’re doing.”
“Is it?” he asks against my hair. His voice is serious, not light or teasing.
My heart pounds with the realization of what he’s asking. Or suggesting. Or am I imagining this?
“What are we doing?” he whispers, his mouth moving against my ear.
I’ve never been one to profess my feelings. If I’m spending time with a boy, I like him. If I don’t, I don’t. Telling a boy that I like him, or worse, that I love him, is something I’ve never done. But I’ve also never had a boy make me feel the way he does. I take a breath and even though he can’t see my face, I close my eyes. “I like you,” I whisper back.
I can feel his smile against my cheek. “I like you, too.”
“I’m not—” I pause. “I’m not very good at this.”
His lips find my neck and I tilt my head back. “You seem pretty good to me.”
My fingers twist in his hair as he kisses my collarbone. “The talking about it part.” Keeping my eyes closed makes it easier. The kisses don’t hurt either. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
His head pulls away. He brushes the back of his fingers along my temple and I open my eyes, then quickly close them again. His face is inches from mine and the emotion in his eyes is too much. “Look at me,” he whispers.
I do, and it feels like I’m exposing all my secrets. Like he can see into my soul and know the worst parts of me, every terrible thing I’ve said or done or thought.
He holds my gaze, then kisses me lightly. “There’s no pressure, and I’m not making a declaration. I just want to know if we’re on the same page.”
“Does your page include more of this?” I kiss the tender skin next to his eye and his lashes close.
“Mm-hmm.” He leans into my caress. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, but I’m not a player and if I’m kissing one girl, I’m not kissing anyone else.” He opens his eyes but his gaze drops from mine. “I just wanna make sure you’re not doing this with other guys.”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads over my face. He’s not asking me to be his girlfriend—which, honestly, I’m not sure if I’m ready for—but it’s the next best thing. “You are the only boy I’ve kissed in months.”
His shoulders relax beneath my arms and he matches my smile. “Good to know.” He kisses me again, but it’s soft and gentle and unhurried. When it starts to get heated, he breaks the kiss. “I should probably get you home.”
Mom’s always been flexible on my curfew but I’m not about to suggest we go park someplace, so I nod.
As we get closer to my street, reality crashes around me. No matter how amazing Xavier is, he can’t park this car in my driveway. Not when Mom might be watching for me.
“Do you mind parking on the street? I don’t want my mom to come out.” I’m so focused on her not seeing his car that I don’t realize how that sounded until it’s too late.
The corner of his mouth lifts and he gives me a heated once over. “Oh yeah?” He does as I ask and leaves the car running.
I swat his arm. “That’s not what I meant. But,” I unfasten my seatbelt and shift closer to him. “Since we’re here.” I reach for him, my hands running through his hair, pulling him toward me. His lips meet mine and I melt into him, feeling more content in his arms, parked in this beat-up Subaru, than I have in a very long time.
After more kissing, we say goodbye until tomorrow morning and I hurry up the long driveway to the house. Maybe this can work after all.
And maybe he’ll never have to know how horrible I’ve been.
When I pull into the community service parking lot the next morning, a bright yellow school bus idles where the Goodship Lollipop usually sits. Drea’s already here—I’m impressed that she’s early even on a weekend—but Subie is nowhere to be seen. I make my way over to her and she puts her cigarette out on the side of the building.
“Morning,” she says, toeing the sidewalk with her purple Chuck. “How’d last night go?”
I haven’t stopped thinking about Xavier since he dropped me off. Everything I learn about him makes me like him even more, and the fact that he’s an amazing kisser is like icing on the proverbial cake. As for the picture, I didn’t delete it, but I didn’t share it either.
She laughs. “Girl, you’ve got it bad.”
My eyes widen. “I didn’t say anything!”
“You didn’t have to. The look on your face says it all.”
“He’s dreamy.” I flutter my eyelashes, making her laugh again.
“I’m happy for you.” She lifts the hand still holding the cigarette, then looks at it like she’s surprised it’s no longer burning. For a moment she just stares at it, and I get an uneasy feeling.
“Drea, are you okay?”
She blinks before focusing on me. “Yeah, sorry. Just got a lot on my mind.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, but before she can answer, a sleek Benz parks in front of us and a man and woman get out, mid-argument.
“I’m telling you, this is the place,” she says, glaring at the guy. Her auburn hair is held back with a cloth headband that matches her leggings, and her manicured hand grips a venti cup from Starbucks.
He glares back, or at least I assume he’s glaring behind his expensive aviator sunglasses. “Can we not this early in the morning?” He slams the door and notices us for the first time. “This is the park clean-up group, right?”
We nod, eyebrows raised.
The woman rolls her eyes. “I just told you that.”
His jaw clenches. “Fine. You were right. Happy now?”
Her scowl relaxes and she smiles as she moves around the car to stand next to him. “This will be fun.”
While part of me isn’t sure what the hell is going on, the other part wants to bow to her bitchitude. “Why are they here?” I whisper to Drea.
“To brighten our day?” She shakes her head as the woman hooks her arm through the man’s and they walk toward the bus. “I honestly have no idea.”
As we wait, other people we’ve never seen arrive, and soon the bus is half full. I scan the parking lot but Xavier still hasn’t arrived. I could text him, but if he’s driving he wouldn’t be able to reply anyway. “Should we get our seats?”
“I guess.”
We turn to walk toward the bus when Bruno comes out of the building.
“Oh, thank god,” Drea says. “Bruno, what the fresh hell is all this?”
He chuckles, a deep sound that rumbles in his chest. “You all never been to a Saturday clean-up?” We shake our heads. “Well, this’ll be a treat. Lot of people come who need community service hours for their jobs. Most of them just get in the way, but it’s usually a fun morning.”
I still refuse to call picking up trash fun, but a change of pace can’t be a bad thing. We follow him onto the bus. The front seat has three boxes of the lovely pinnies and most of the Weekend Crew is sitting in the front half of the bus. Drea and I make our way to the back, but I
pause before sitting with her.
“We don’t have to sit together,” she says, and I hate how transparent I am.
“I’ll just save him a seat.” I unzip my jacket and toss it on the seat across from us, then settle in next to her and wrap my arms around myself to keep warm. “Do you know where we’re going?”
She shakes her head. “Not a clue. Gotta be big though with all these people.”
I text Dad. Weekend fun. 3 hours = 22.
I can practically smell the crisp Swiss mountain air.
As more people fill the bus, the anxiety I feel every week when it’s almost time to go and Xavier still hasn’t arrived starts to creep in. He won’t miss this, I reassure myself.
Drea nudges me. “What’s got you down all of a sudden?”
With all my worries about her and her boyfriend, I’d almost forgotten what drew me to her in the first place. She really is a sweet person. “If Xavier shows, he’ll finish his hours today.”
“And with the Chain Gang coming to an end, you’re worried about starting over with a new group.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Am I that obvious?”
“Yes and no. I’ve been thinking the same thing. The shelter doesn’t really appeal to me, and I’m not sure what else sounds good. I liked being outside, you know?”
I nod. I want to push the shelter angle with her, but she giggles near my ear.
“Your boyfriend’s here.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Yet.
“Maybe not, but you want him to be.” She clutches her hands to her chest. “I love new love.”
A giggle escapes me and I hesitate for a moment before pressing my forehead to her shoulder, fighting the impulse to overthink my every movement. “Please don’t embarrass me.” I’ve spent so many years trying to control what people think about me that I never let myself just live in the moment.
The Edge Rules (The Rules Series Book 3) Page 17