Shameless (Loving Fallon Book 1)

by Delecroix, Cassandra

“It’s…complicated,” I say awkwardly. “Blake said that you guys used to be friends,” I comment.

  Nick’s fingers stop rolling the cigarette, and his gray eyes lift to mine. “He did, did he?”

  “He didn’t share details or anything,” I quickly add.

  Nick doesn’t say anything, and he flicks the cigarette aside with disinterest.

  “Were you guys close?” I can’t help but press.

  “You know how you didn’t want to talk about your aunt? I feel the same about Blake,” he says simply.

  “Got it.” I shift on the bed, lying on my side with my head on his pillow. I look up at him, gazing at him hopefully. “Will you draw something for me again?”

  “Right now?” he asks with surprise.

  “Or do you have to be in the mood?”

  “I can draw whenever.” He picks up the cigarettes and ashtray, rising to his feet. My eyes follow him as he retrieves his sketch pad and pencils. When he comes back to the bed, he situates himself comfortably on the other end, and he looks at me questioningly. “What do you want me to draw?”

  “Draw what you see now. In me,” I say quietly.

  He nods and gets to work.

  I watch him until my eyelids grow heavy and drift shut.

  “Fallon, time to wake up.”

  At the sound of Nick’s voice, I stir and open my eyes sleepily. Nick is leaning over me, and I look around his room with confusion until I recall our evening. I bring my arms over my head and stretch, my back arching. “What time is it?”

  Nick watches me from where he stands beside the bed. “Time for me to take you home.”

  I sit up, yawning. “Did you draw me something?”

  “Yes.”

  Without another word, I rise to my feet, still a bit groggy. Nick seems amused by my sleepiness, and he leads me out of the trailer and to his car. I relax into the passenger seat, almost dozing as he drives me home. When we reach the house, he insists on walking me to my window, even pushing it open for me. He then hands me a folded piece of paper.

  I take it with confusion until I realize it’s the drawing he’d done for me. I smile. “Thank you.”

  “You work tomorrow?”

  “No. You?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I’ll see you Monday then.”

  Nick hovers near the window to make sure that I climb into my room without any mishaps, and then he disappears into the shadows and out of sight.

  After I close and lock the window for the night, I stretch out on my bed with the paper. I’m about to unfold it when my phone chimes in my pocket. I set Nick’s drawing aside and pull out the phone. Blake wants to know if I’ve fallen asleep.

  I roll over onto my stomach and type back a response to his question. No. I just got home.

  Blake’s reply is almost immediate. Who gave you a ride tonight?

  Nick, I respond.

  And you’re just now getting home? he asks.

  We hung out for a bit. We’re just friends, I type back.

  He doesn’t respond for a few minutes, and I frown. Blake shouldn’t care if I spend time with Nick. I mean, I know they don’t like each other, but it’s not like Blake and I are a real couple or anything.

  My phone chimes with his next message. Send me a pic?

  I’m relieved that my time with Nick doesn’t seem to be an issue. I send, Of what?

  You. For your contact photo.

  I don’t have a camera, I reply back.

  You’ve got one on your phone. Just go to the menu.

  I sit up and play around with the phone for a few minutes. I manage to figure out how to take a photo of myself, and when I take one that I like, I send it to him.

  Got it, he sends back.

  Send me one of you, I insist.

  His photo arrives a moment later, and I grin. He looks so hot, and his smile is a bit on the wicked side. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out how to turn it into his contact photo, and I take a photo of myself, blowing him a kiss. I press send, my mood bright and happy as I concentrate on the fun text messages we’re swapping.

  Blake’s next message is another photo. It’s of his bare, ripped abs. I laugh softly to myself, admiring the photo before I decide to have a little fun myself. I slip off my shirt, and after a few minutes of playing with angles, I send him a photo of my cleavage. My bra is black lace and does fabulous things for my breasts. I’m very curious to see what he’ll send back.

  His next photo is of his lower body in tight, red briefs. I can tell he’s lying on his bed, and he’s sporting the beginnings of an erection. My lower body burns with the memory of what lies beneath the fabric.

  I promptly lie down on my bed, shimming out of my shorts. I use one hand to pull my panties down off my hip so that I’m just a smidgen shy of showing him my goods. Then I raise my other hand with the camera and take a few photos. When I find one that I like, I send it off with an amused grin. Just how far is he going to take this little game?

  Much to my disappointment, his reply is a text message with no photo. Someone’s feeling naughty tonight.

  I’m always naughty, I send back.

  I bet. As much as I would like to take this further, I’m going to end this. Dream of me tonight.

  With a smile, I send, I’ll see you in yours. After I set the phone down, my eyes slide to the folded paper that Nick had given me. I carefully open it and stare. It’s of me, and he’s drawn me wearing a flowing nightgown, my arm raised, my hand open as I reach for something unknown since the paper is blank above my reaching hand.

  My lips part, and I carefully run my nail over the drawing, tracing my arm and hand. What am I reaching for? Him? Or something else?

  Twelve

  On Monday, Blake texts me that he’ll drive me to school. All the drama from Friday fades, and I find myself looking forward to the upcoming day. When his car pulls up at the corner, I hurry over and climb in.

  “Morning,” he greets with a lazy smile.

  I flash him a grin as I secure my seatbelt.

  He pulls away from the curb and says offhandedly, “I paid Camilla a visit yesterday.”

  The mood in the car instantly turns serious, and my eyes roam over his handsome features. “How did that go?”

  He brings the Camaro to a slow stop at a stop sign. “About as I expected,” he states dryly.

  “You’re just going to make her madder, Blake.”

  He glances at me, his brown eyes unconcerned. “I don’t care.”

  “You can’t alienate your friends because of me.”

  Blake turns back to the road as the car moves forward again. “I’ll do what needs to be done. She can’t touch you now, I made certain of it.”

  “What did you do?” I ask warily, feeling bad that he’s doing this because of me.

  “Nothing at this point. Like I said before, we grew up together, so I know every single skeleton she’s hiding in her closet.”

  I shake my head. “You might have Camilla right where you want her, but you can’t blackmail all of your friends. You need to stay out of it, Blake. I can take care of myself,” I insist.

  His eyes shift to me briefly, determination glinting in them. “I got you into this mess, remember? Do you really think I’m going to stand aside and let you deal with the fallout on your own? Not happening,” he says firmly.

  Nothing I say is going to make him change his mind, and I sigh with resignation. When I peer out my window, I see that we’re almost to the school. “Drop me off up ahead.”

  “Why?”

  I look at him as I reach for my backpack at my feet. “Because I don’t want you further complicating your life. I don’t fit in with your friends, and your parents probably hate me. They also don’t need to hear that you’re spending time with me at school in front of Camilla. You’re just making unnecessary waves, Blake.”

  His hands tighten on the steering wheel as his lips flatten unhappily. “You think I care what they think?”

  “You should, this
is your life.”

  “And it fucking sucks,” he says with frustration.

  “Pull over,” I say softly.

  He curses under his breath and turns down a street that’s a block away from the school. He parks at the curb, his eyes shifting back to mine with a brooding look.

  I’m perfectly aware that I’m only in his life temporary, because I will never belong or fit into his world. Blake can’t trash his life over good sex, and that’s all I’ll ever be to him. I lean over and touch his arm. “Hey. Nothing’s changing between us. We can still see each other, let’s just not do it in public, that’s all.”

  A muscle works in his jaw as his eyes hold mine. “I’m not ashamed to be seen with you, Fallon. You know I don’t care what they all think.”

  “But I care,” I tell him quietly.

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “I care because I care about you.” The second I say the words, an odd chill goes down my spine. I just put myself out there, and I know I’m beginning to fall for him, which is only going to earn me a broken heart.

  Blake’s expression softens. “Fallon, you’re the only thing in my life that makes sense these days.” He leans over and touches my cheek tenderly as his lips touch mine. His kiss is slow and sweet, and I kiss him back, enjoying the taste of him and the feel of his firm lips against my own. Blake moves closer, his other hand reaching up to frame my face, and his tongue strokes mine in a way that has my heart melting even more.

  The kiss slowly ends when we reluctantly pull back to draw in some much needed air. “I should go,” I murmur.

  Blake drags a hand through his hair. “Today’s going to be a bitch of a day after what went down Friday.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “You work tomorrow?”

  I shake my head.

  “I’ll pick you up after practice. My dad has meetings, so he’ll be home later than usual, and my mom is out of town for the next few days.”

  “Okay.”

  “Text me during the day, let me know how you’re doing,” he says seriously.

  I can’t help but laugh off his concern. “Blake, rumors and shit have always been a part of my life. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with them.”

  He looks at me intently. “You never talk about yourself. That comment right there has me wondering what kind of life you led before coming here.”

  “There’s a reason why I don’t talk about myself, and it’s because I don’t want to,” I say lightly.

  Blake looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he remains quiet.

  “I have to go, or I’m going to be late for first period.”

  “Alright.”

  “Later.” I climb out and give him a little wave as he pulls away.

  I walk the rest of the way to school and think about Blake. He’s such a good guy, and it’s sweet that he wants to protect me, but the people currently in his life will still be there when I’m not. He can’t destroy those relationships, not over me.

  School turns out to be just as I was expecting. People stare, snicker, and whisper about me. Crude things are said behind my back, and a few guys actually approach me, looking for an easy hook-up. I do my best to ignore everyone, and I tell myself that the school day will be over in no time, and then I can escape until tomorrow.

  Before gym class, I stop at my locker to put away my books, and I find Nick lounging against the door. “Hey,” I greet.

  He folds his arms over his chest and leans a shoulder against the nearest locker. His head tilts with curiosity. “Where do you disappear to during lunch?”

  I turn my attention on entering my locker combo into the lock, and the door pops open. “I hit up the library. You?”

  “There’s an old stairwell that is rarely used, I hang there and do homework or draw. You can keep me company if you ever grow tired of the library,” he offers.

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” I say, not wanting to commit or look needy. I actually do most of my homework during lunch, and I have a feeling Nick would be too much of a distraction. I shove my backpack inside my locker and close the door.

  “You work tonight?” Nick asks.

  I turn and face him. “Yep.”

  “Want to hang afterwards?”

  “Sure. I’d better go, or I’m going to be late.”

  Nick pushes off from the locker he’d been leaning against. “Later,” he says, and he strides off down the hall.

  I quickly head in the opposite direction, knowing that I’m cutting it real close if I want to make it on time. The gym and locker rooms are located on the other side of the building. When I rush through the locker room door, I find that most of my classmates have already changed, and they are entering the gym through the connecting door in the back of the locker room.

  I hurry towards the rows of lockers, and when I turn the corner in the back to go to mine, I find Camilla lounging on the center bench, patiently waiting as she files her long, painted nails. “Camilla,” I greet dryly as I sigh inwardly. Another confrontation is the very last thing that I need today.

  Camilla looks up, her pretty face relaxed with boredom as she continues working on her nails. Her legs are crossed, her long, tanned legs shown off thanks to the short skirt she’s wearing. Not a strand of blonde hair is out of place, and she looks perfectly polished and almost regal-like with the way she’s perched on the bench.

  For a second, I feel like a frump in my shorts and tank. Then I decide that I shouldn’t be comparing myself to someone that I would never want to be like, so I push those thoughts aside and fold my arms over my chest, waiting to see why she’s here.

  Camilla slips her nail file in her purse, and her pouty lips tilt up in the corners as she gazes at me condescendingly. “You don’t fit into his world.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” I probably shouldn’t turn my back on her after what had happened last time, but I really don’t want to be late. I turn and begin twirling the dial on my locker.

  “He’ll grow bored slummin’ it with you.”

  The door on my locker opens, and I pull out my gym clothes. “Then what are you worried about?” I ask.

  “I’m not, but you should be.”

  Bored already with the conversation, I slip off my shirt and fold it before setting it in the locker. I wish she’d just go away.

  “I might not be able to do anything about your trashy existence in Blake’s life, but there are others that Blake can’t control. In fact, they control him,” she says pleasantly.

  Now I turn to look at her, my eyes narrowing.

  She gracefully rises to her feet, picking up her purse. “Enjoy your time with him, because if Blake’s parents decide to get involved, you’ll wish you’d never laid eyes on him.”

  I’m perfectly aware that she’s speaking the truth, and I say nothing.

  She gives me a knowing smile. “Your time is almost up,” she muses. She then turns and saunters away, her shoes clicking on the tiled floor as she leaves.

  When she’s gone, I release a sigh and rub my temples. Blake will likely tire of me before his parents have a reason to worry over our relationship. I shove Camilla’s threats out of my mind as I turn and hurriedly change into my gym shorts.

  ~*~

  After my shift at the store, Nick drives us out to the pond on his motorcycle. When the bike comes to a complete stop, I ease my leg over it and wait for Nick to climb off. “Are we swimming again?” I can’t resist teasing.

  He gives me a look as he stands and straightens his legs. “You put one toe in that water, and you and I are going to have a very unpleasant situation on our hands,” he warns.

  “Relax, it’s kind of chilly tonight,” I muse.

  We walk away from the motorcycle, leaving the headlight off since the moon is bright tonight. I follow Nick, and he chooses a spot near the water, and we sit on the grass. There’s something about Nick that makes me feel content in his presence, and I draw my knees to my chest as I stare at
the moon’s reflection across the surface of the pond.

  “It’s starting to cool down now that October is approaching,” Nick comments.

  “Ugh, don’t remind me. Someday, I’m going to live somewhere that has milder winters,” I say with longing.

  He looks at me, his eyes watchful. “Where do you see yourself after graduation?”

  “I want to go to college.”

  “Around here?”

  “I don’t know. I take it you’re planning on staying in the area?” I ask with interest.

  “That’s the plan, but the idea of getting out of here permanently sounds appealing.”

  “I take it you and your dad aren’t close?” I ask cautiously.

  He draws a knee up to absently play with the torn threads around a hole in the fabric as he gazes at the water. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Where’s your mom?”

  “Dead.”

  “God, Nick, I am so sorry,” I say softly.

  He inclines his head in acknowledgement, and then he peers at me. “Something happen to your parents?”

  I’d prefer to avoid talking about myself, but since I’d just asked him about his own parents, I can’t blame him for asking about mine. “I never knew my dad, and my mom is out of the picture,” I admit, keeping my reply short and straight to the point.

  “That her choice or yours?”

  “Hers.”

  “I see.” He’s probably hoping I’ll elaborate and share more details, but I’m not going to. He drops his knee and stretches out his long legs. “Why don’t you and your aunt get along?”

  I start running my fingers through the grass beside me. “She didn’t have a good relationship with my mom,” I murmur.

  “Yet she’s letting you stay with her?”

  “She has her reasons.”

  “Will you tell me what they are?” he presses.

  “It’s not a big deal, Nick.”

  “I think there’s more than you’re telling me.”

  Feeling fidgety, I shift until I am sitting Indian style, and I pull two strands of grass out of the ground and begin tying them together into a knot. “There is, but it changes nothing,” I tell him.