The drums started up again and Nick was right in front of me, his eyes boring into me, his shoulders moving perfectly with the pounding of the drums. I licked my lips and looked away, a flush coming to my cheeks again. He inched closer, so close I could smell the sweat from his workout and the scent of his masculine soap mingling in the air between us. Nick gripped my face gently and turned it toward his, forcing me to meet his stare.
“And don’t deny me, no baby now, don’t deny me. And darlin’ don’t be afraid.” He sung to me, drawing out each syllable in sync with the lead singer.
I felt my knees go weak from the intensity of his words and the heated gaze he held me immobilized with. Our lips met and I wasn’t sure who had leaned in first, me or him, as my own lips surprised me with their needy aggression. Nick’s lips slowed after a moment, forcing me to move mine beneath his at a far slower pace, and I ran my hands along the exposed muscles of his bare back.
It was then that I realized what I’d come over to say. I had a surprise for him. Pulling away reluctantly, I put a few inches between us and said, “Ride with Blake and Emily to the bonfire tonight or take your mom’s car, if she’ll let you.”
“Why?” he asked, obviously perplexed, but too preoccupied with trying to taste my lips again to look me in the eye.
“Because Tiffany is going to pick me up. I have sort of a surprise for you and I don’t want you to see it until we’re at the party,” I said suddenly, feeling stupid for making a big deal about my surprise. All it was was me dressing up a bit for him and leaving my security blanket hoodie at home.
“Oh, really?” He smirked. “Well, you’re in luck, Julie Porter, because I happen to like surprises.”
“I’m glad,” I said, leaning in for another peck and then backing away quickly before he could freeze me in place with his gentle kisses and solid body once more.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
NICK
I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my bottom half before heading back to my room to get dressed. I was in the middle of pulling on a pair of faded jeans that hung a little low on my hips when I heard a voice coming from the living room I’d never expected to hear so soon.
“I know I need some fucking help, okay? It’s why I’m here,” dad yelled.
I pulled on the first shirt I saw in my closet, a brown plaid button up, and bolted down the hallway. When I stepped out into the living room dad was sitting on the couch with his head cradled in his hands.
“Mom? What’s going on?” I asked without taking my eyes off my dad.
“It’s okay, Nick. You can go on ahead to that party you asked to go to. I’ve got things under control here,” mom insisted, holding a hand out to me.
I shifted my gaze to her; she looked petrified. “Like hell you do. What’s going on? What’s he doing here?”
“I’m here trying to work things out with your mother. Is that fucking all right with you, son?” dad asked, his bloodshot eyes meeting mine.
I bit the inside of my cheek and stared at him, locking my gaze with his. He was drunk. Plastered. I could tell. “No, that’s not all right with me. You don’t belong in this house anymore,” I spat, feeling every ounce of venom I had toward him lace each word.
“What did you just say to me, boy?” he asked, pushing up off the couch to stand, but I knew damn good and well that he’d heard me.
“Enough,” mom said, taking her hands and pressing them firmly on dad’s shoulders to push him back onto the couch. “Richard, sit. Nick, let me talk to you for a minute in the kitchen.”
I only followed her and kept my mouth shut because of the pleading look in her eyes. “What do we have to talk about? Why are you even letting him back in the house? What about the restraining order?”
“Because he needs help, honey, and he’s finally at a point where he’s able to admit it. What am I suppose to do, turn him away when he’s finally gotten to a point where he might take a turn for the better?” Her eyes darted back and forth wildly between mine as she spoke.
“Yes. You’re supposed to turn him away,” I answered flatly.
“He’s not going to stay here, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s going to stay at a clinic where he can get all the support he needs to rid himself of his addiction. I’ve already helped him make the call.” There was so much hope in her eyes it almost made me feel hopeful. Almost.
“What is it, like hardcore AA or something?” I asked, calming down some.
She nodded. “Yes, sort of. It’s a final step for him. He got another DUI and the judge took his license for three years. This clinic is sort of mandatory at this point.”
I let out a breath. “And he’s actually agreeing to go through with it?”
“He is.” She smiled.
I couldn’t believe it. My dad was checking himself into a rehab for drunks. He’d finally hit rock bottom. My eyes shifted to the redness on her wrist. He’d been rough with her again.
“Are they going to help him with his anger issues, too?” I asked, meeting her gaze dead on, my jaw clenched tight.
“He’ll have to deal with all of that there, too, yes. He’ll be there for a while.” She rubbed the spot on her wrist I’d noticed as she spoke.
“Where is it? Where’s this place at?”
“Cambridge.”
“That’s like five hours away. How’s he getting there if he doesn’t have a license?” I knew the answer already. I knew that was why he was here, but I asked anyway.
“I’m driving him there first thing in the morning, so don’t be out until the wee hours of the morning with my car.” She winked at me, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
“So, he comes here freaking sloshed?” I scoffed.
She narrowed her eyes. “Honey, I think at this point he needs alcohol like he needs air.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t understand why he was still getting wasted when he’d already agreed to get help. Wasn’t that contradicting his decision?
“Good news, though, he’s agreed to let you have his car.”
“His car?” I scoffed.
She smiled like this news should make me feel happy somehow. My drunken P.O.S. dad was checking into a freaking institution before he killed himself or someone else driving drunk all the time, or before he beat me or my mom to a bloody freaking pulp…but here were the keys to his car. His rust bucket beater to be exact. Awesome.
I left her standing in the kitchen and walked back through the living room, headed toward my room. Dad was sprawled out on the couch with his arm covering his eyes, snoring. A bottle of Captain Morgan lay on its side against the couch, spilling all over the carpet. I shook my head, anger spilling through me faster than the bottle was emptying onto the carpeted floor, and went straight to my room. I needed to calm down, control my anger, my emotions, before I left to meet Jules at the party. I wanted tonight to be a good night for us. I wanted tonight to be special. And I didn’t want to ruin it with all this bullshit.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
JULIE
“You look smokin’!” Tiffany said as we rode out to Saxton Camp. “Seriously, Nick is not going to know what to think when he sees you.”
I smiled. “I hope so. You don’t think it’s too much?”
I’d worn a pair of dark jeans that fit a little snug and a green halter top that looked seventy-ish with a pair of borrowed wedge sandals from Tiffany. I’d left my hair down and let her do my makeup, and I didn’t bring a hoodie or a jacket in the hopes that Nick would be all I’d need to stay warm.
“Not at all!” Tiffany said, turning onto Saxton Street.
Nervous tremors rippled through me as we pulled up to the area where the bonfire was going on. Cars were parked side by side out in the field and bodies bobbled in the semi-darkness around a huge fire.
“Here we are!” Tiffany squealed. This girl lived for parties.
“Here we are,” I echoed with hardly any enthusiasm compared to her and st
epped out.
My stomach knotted as I walked beside Tiffany into the crowd of people. I scanned the half-lit faces for Nick, but didn’t find him. Wondering when he’d be here, I folded my arms across my chest and wished I could sneak someplace less crowded to wait on him or stay in the car. I felt naked.
“Drinks, ladies, are over here!” Emily shouted from beside a large truck with its tailgate down. She sat at the edge of it, a silver keg to her right. “Oh, look at you! One hot mama!” she said, pointing to me.
I wondered how many drinks she’d already consumed as I started toward her with a grin on my face and blushing cheeks. Thank goodness it was dark out. “Yeah, yeah. Thank you.”
Blake handed Tiffany and me a plastic cup filled to the brim with frothy beer. I put it to my lips and drank a greedy gulp, hoping it would take away the edge of anxiety I felt.
“Where’s Nick at?” Emily asked. “Has he seen you yet?”
“No, I don’t know where he’s at. He should be here soon, though,” I said, guessing he hadn’t decided to ride with them. I put the cup to my lips again and glanced around.
Music started to blare from someone’s vehicle close by. The bass from their system rattled their windows.
“I’m gonna go dance. Anyone care to join?” Tiffany shouted.
Emily hopped down from the truck, passed her cup to Blake, and grabbed on to me and Tiffany. “Let’s go!”
I could not have felt more out of place if I’d tried. Dancing wasn’t my thing, just like parties weren’t. And dancing at a party, all that did was draw unwanted attention to me and make me feel stupid. I moved a little, while I drank a lot. Within a minute or two my cup was empty and I could feel the warmth from the alcohol swimming through my veins. It didn’t take much to get me buzzed, but I knew what I’d had wasn’t enough to get me where I wanted to be—loose and comfortable in my own skin—because that was all I felt like I was showing right now, skin.
“I’m going to get another one,” I said, cupping my hand to Emily’s ear and holding up my empty cup.
“Okay.” She nodded.
I started back toward the truck with the keg, my eyes darting around looking for Nick, unbelieving that he still wasn’t here yet. I passed a group of three guys smoking cigarettes near the keg and felt them eyeing me. One breath of air and I realized it wasn’t cigarettes they where smoking, it was pot. My skin crawled and I folded my arms around myself, wishing I had brought my hoodie jacket to at least wear until Nick got here.
When I reached the keg a guy was already bent over in front of it, refilling his cup, so I stood there waiting. The cluster of three guys continued to stare in my direction as they sipped beer and passed a joint around. When the guy in front of the keg finally stood up and turned around my stomach dropped. It was Vincent.
“Hey, there. Didn’t expect to see you here. Damn, you’re really making your way around now.” His eyes swept over me as his words slurred out of his mouth. “And you’re looking good doing it, too.”
I didn’t say anything to him. Instead I maneuvered around him and reached for the tap to refill my cup. I squeezed the little lever in my hand and aimed it in my cup. Beer sprayed all over me and I jumped back, startled.
The rumble of Vincent’s laugh filled my ears. “You have to hold it at an angle and go slow. Here, let me show you.”
“I’ve got it,” I snapped, not wanting his help with a damn thing. I tipped my cup and squeezed again. I was rewarded with even more beer on my shirt. “What the hell is wrong with this thing?”
“Here.” Vincent’s hand wrapped around mine and his breath slid against my cheek. “Let me.”
I released my grip and backed away from him, not wanting him to touch me. He filled my cup for me while I fanned my stomach in an ill-fated attempt to dry my shirt out. Now I really wished I’d brought a sweater because I was naked feeling, freezing, and wet. So far this party sucked.
“Cold?” Vincent asked as he attempted to remove some of the foam from my cup and replace it with beer.
“No, I’m fine.” I wrapped my arms tightly around myself and looked back toward the bonfire.
“Okay.” He stood and moved to hand me my cup back, but tripped and ended up spilling it down the front of me instead. “Oh shit, I’m sorry,” he slurred and his lips twisted into a goofy grin.
I stood there with my hands out to my sides, stunned, and more than a little pissed. “Great, now I’m soaked.”
“I said, I’m sorry,” he insisted again. “Come on; let me give you my jacket from my car.”
“Why, so I can owe you something for payment? I don’t think so.” I glared at him, taking in the little smile that he flashed me, and began to wonder if he hadn’t spilled the beer on me on purpose. “I’ll just go stand by the fire.”
Vincent shook his head. “Nope, this time it’s free. I fucked up and I’m sorry. Let me get you my coat.” Although he looked genuinely sincere, I still didn’t trust him.
“I mean it, come on,” he insisted.
I rang my shirt out. Beer dripped to the ground in front of me and splashed all over my sandaled feet. I glanced back to the fire and noticed a group of guys starting a mosh-pit near it. They bounced around, spilling beer all over, while banging into one another. A jacket would be nice right about now, because with my luck, I’d go over there to dry off and end up getting bumped into the fire. “Fine. I’ll wait here.”
“No way,” Vincent said, glancing to the group of three guys I’d noticed staring at me earlier. “I’m not leaving you here with a freaking wet shirt on and those three perves over there gawking at you.”
“Since when are you the knight-in-shining-armor type?” I asked, wondering when he decided to care about my well-being, or any girl’s well-being for that matter.
“Since now, I guess.” He shrugged.
“Too little, too late. I’ll wait by the fire with Emily and Tiff while you go get it,” I said. Vincent’s face scrunched up. He looked like he was about to protest; I didn’t wait to hear what he had to say before I started back toward the fire.
I only made it a few steps away before strong arms encircled my waist and lifted me from the ground, hauling me back to where I had stood near the keg.
“What the hell? Let go!” I shouted. “Put me down, Vincent!”
A couple I didn’t recognize had walked to where we were standing in front of the keg. They both stared at us and chuckled as though what they saw was hysterical. I began thrashing my feet, aiming for Vincent’s shins. He sat me down, but only long enough to maneuver around in front of me and wrap his arms tightly around my thighs before hoisting me up over his shoulder.
“Let go of me! Now!” I shouted again. Why did everyone staring at us think this was so funny? Couldn’t they see that I didn’t want to go with him? Were they all too wasted to see that this was not a comedy act?
“Hush it.” Vincent slapped my ass and tightened his grip around my thighs. “Calm down, Julie, you know you owe me.”
“Owe you? I don’t owe you shit!” I snapped while I continued to pound my fist into his back and kick my legs.
My efforts to get free didn’t faze him one bit. No matter what I did Vincent’s feet kept moving forward to wherever he was taking me like I weighed nothing more than a bag of potatoes.
“Well, maybe technically you don’t…but your mom does,” he said, sounding only slightly out of breath.
I stopped fighting for a moment. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I upped my price and now it’s time that I get paid.”
My heart slammed against my ribs even harder than what it already was. Panic laced through my veins. I glanced around; we were back in the make-shift parking lot surrounded by empty cars.
“Then you need to take that up with her,” I said, beginning my struggle to get free again. “Let me go! Put me down, please!”
I screamed and glanced around, hoping to see someone, anyone, who might help me. I was scared to deat
h of what Vincent was about to do to me. A guy in a blue T-shirt and dark denim jeans passed us. I reached out for him, missing his shirt by mere inches.
“Help me, please!” I shouted, hoping he could tell from my panicked state that I wasn’t lying, that I was in trouble.
“Don’t worry, Drake,” Vincent said and then he smacked my ass again for show. “It’s just business. I’ll find you here in a minute and blaze one with you after I’m done talking with her.”
“Awesome, thanks, man,” Drake said. I watched in horror as he bumped fists with Vincent and continued toward the party without a second glance.
A tremor of fear slid through my body as I realized we’d reached Vincent’s car. He released one arm from my legs to open the back door and I kicked as hard as I could to get free from his lessened grasp. I slid off his shoulder and jammed my back into the corner of his partially opened car door, hard. The wind whooshed from my lungs as pain radiated from the spot of impact all the way to my toes.
“You should be more careful, Julie,” Vincent said just before I felt his lips crush against mine.
I pressed my palms against his chest and pushed with all my might, just like I had in his car that one time. He barely budged. His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I shifted my face away from him and screamed; it was cut off by his lips pressing against mine again, this time in a hungry way.
“Didn’t I ever tell you that I like it rough?” he breathed between hard kisses.
“Stop it! Get off me!” I shouted, praying someone would hear, but with the loud music and even louder groups of people talking I was sure no one did. Not with the distance between where Vincent had parked and the main party area.
“Yeah, even your pleas for me to stop are turning me on.” He pressed his body against mine to let me feel just how much and then spun me around so that I was facing the open door to his car.
“No. Vincent, stop it!” I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to squirm away from the feeling of his lips against the side of my neck.
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