by Ali Dean
I tilt my head to the side and raise my eyebrows.
Jace starts walking out of the closet and toward the queen bed. “Girls can be brutal. I’ve witnessed it. If I hear about more bitchiness toward you, I’m not gonna let it happen.” He leans down, placing me on my back, and hovers over me. “But you can’t let them get to you, Pep.” His green eyes search mine. “It’s only ever been you. No matter what other girls say, you’re all that matters. It’s always been like that. I’m gonna keep trying to show you.”
“All right,” I whisper. But Emma’s voice echoes in my head. Jace likes to love and leave but not with Maddie. He always wants another piece.
When his lips meet mine, I decide I’ll simply make him want me too. I arch my back and press myself to him, grasping his shoulders tightly and urging him against me. If he’s surprised by my aggressive response, he doesn’t show it. He responds by catching my lower lip with his teeth.
I glide my hands down his sculpted back and slip my hands beneath the band of his boxer briefs. I’ve never done this before and it feels amazing to be this close.
I hear Jace’s ragged breathing in my ear as I kiss and nip at his neck, and it emboldens me to continue. If it feels this good to touch his bare skin here…
I slide my hands up and around to the front of his pants and quickly open the button and pull down the zipper. I’m nervous, and I know if I think about it too much I’ll chicken out. My hands slip underneath his boxers and Jace freezes. I can’t even hear him breathing. I take him in my hands.
“Oh!” I gasp as I let my hands glide up and down. It’s… bigger than I expected. “Jace?” I ask shakily.
“Yeah?” He sounds like he’s in pain.
“Um… does it… you know… fit?” I bite out. I scrunch my eyes in embarrassment. But seriously, it’s hard to fathom how it could possibly work.
I feel Jace’s chest vibrate with laughter. “Yeah.”
I run my hands over the soft skin. “Ah, fuck,” Jace grunts and jerks his hips a little. “Pepper.” He says my name like he’s in agony before rolling to his side, slipping out of my grasp and putting distance between us.
He breathes heavily for a moment. “I can’t think when you’re touching me like that,” he says finally. He sounds like he just sprinted the length of a football field.
“Is that a good thing?” Although I already know the answer.
“Well, it feels amazing, but I don’t like losing control with you, Pep,” he says quietly. “You were just upset, and then” – he runs his hands through his jet black hair and down his face – “ahhh… I want to be good for you Pepper. I don’t want you moving faster than you’re comfortable with because of what some bitchy girls said.”
I swallow. He knows me too well. “You’re right, Jace. I wanted to prove to myself that you wanted me. I wanted to make you want me. I mean, I liked it. Touching you was…” I laugh and look at the ceiling. “Well, I want to do it again. But maybe we should stop tonight. We’re here to hang out.”
He holds my head in his hands and turns me so I’m facing him. “Don’t ever doubt that I want you. I do. So much. But I want to do it right. I want this to last. I can be patient with you because I want all of it, all of you, over and over again. There’s no need to rush.”
“I know I’m being silly. I don’t like being a girl who needs her boyfriend’s constant reassurance. I’ll try not to be so high maintenance.”
“Believe me, you are not high maintenance. I wish I didn’t have the kind of past that makes you doubt me, or us, or yourself. But I’m gonna try to protect you from it as much as I can.” We gaze at each other for a moment longer. “I just need a sec before we go down there, to uh, calm down.” Jace glances down at his open pants. “That should be all the proof you need,” he says with a smirk.
“I don’t know. You were able to stop, after all. Maybe I should follow through to make sure there’s no mistake about who you want,” I say, trying out a mock-seductive voice. I’m kidding, of course. Sort of. Jace’s hooded eyes seem to be taking me seriously. The fire that started burning is still aflame, and I need a bucket of cold water dumped on me if I’m going to move from this bed any time tonight.
Jace grabs my hands and brings them over my head as he rolls back on me. He leaves my hands locked above my head as he devours me with a scorching kiss. But he quickly breaks the kiss and hops up from the bed with a growl. “Woman!” He backs away from the bed as he tucks himself in and buttons his pants. The bulge is still evident and I grin. “What you do to me!” He groans as if I was torturing him. And perhaps I was. My confidence, in that area of our relationship at least, is restored.
I jump out of bed. “Ping pong?” I ask.
A doubles match is going on when we get back downstairs, and I finish another beer while we wait our turn. It looks like others are waiting to play winner, but they give us the paddles. Jeez, I could get used to this kind of treatment. I’m feeling a little buzzed from the two beers, and probably from the earlier make-out session, but I’m actually pretty good at ping pong and I want to give Jace a decent game.
“I got winner.” I hear Wesley Jamison’s voice as he heads our way.
Wes’s arrival turns a few heads, mostly female, and I’m happy to have some of the attention taken away from Jace. Wesley is tall with a powerful lean body and striking good looks, like Jace, but not quite as devastating. His blonde hair and easy smile sets girls at ease, another difference from Jace, whose dark features and piercing green eyes put most girls on edge. In a good way.
The three of us have hung out a few times over the last couple of months. He was one of the first to learn about Jace and I. It’s surprisingly easy to fall into the comfortable friendship we’d had before high school started. Before Wes and Jace had some sort of falling out that I never heard the explanation for.
Wes lifts me up in a hug when he reaches me. “What’s up, Pep?”
“Hey, Wes. You weren’t up to no good, were you?”
He laughs. “I’m always up to no good.” But he knows what I mean.
Wes and Jace were dealing drugs until a couple of months ago, but as far as I know, they managed to cut themselves off from that world entirely.
“All right, Wes, get your hands off my girl,” Jace calls from the other side of the table.
Wes shakes his head at Jace’s comment but complies.
Jace and I play point for point and it appears he’s actually trying, though I wouldn’t put it past him to be faking it to humor me.
“Damn, your girlfriend’s got skills,” Ben says from the sideline.
I know it’s not my skills or the close match that draws the crowd, though. Halfway through, Jace tossed his shirt to the side. He smirked at me and I knew he was trying to mess with my concentration. I’m on my third beer, and I’m actually starting to break a sweat. So with alcohol-induced boldness I roll up the oversized tee shirt above my belly button and tie it off to the side. I can play this game too.
It’s not my bare stomach that distracts Jace, but his annoyance that others are seeing it. But hey, when your boyfriend has six-pack abs, perfect pecs, and the biceps of a quarterback, you have to fight back with what you can. And I know jealousy is a weakness of his. It doesn’t come from any insecurity – definitely not that – but from something far more painful he’s buried deep. I might be the only one who sees it, though I expect my Gran understands Jace’s demons too. And perhaps Wes.
By the time we get to match point, it seems like the entire party is focused on us. People cheer and girls whistle and yell inappropriate remarks at Jace. Match point goes back and forth several times until I finish it off with an ace to the far back corner.
Jace stalks around the table toward me and I stand my ground, grinning like an idiot. He grabs me around the waist on my bare skin, and I love the feel of his big hands on me.
“You are really sexy when you get all competitive on me,” he growls low in my ear.
“What can I
say? I’ve got a competitive spirit,” I reply playfully.
“Oh? We’ll have a rematch. But without the audience,” he murmurs.
“Promise?”
Wes thumps Jace on the shoulder, snapping us out of our flirtations. “All right, lovebirds, looks like I’m taking on little hot shot here.”
“We’ll see about that,” I retort, stepping away from Jace. Once out of our safe cocoon and the distraction of the competitive ping pong match, I feel the weight of the eyes from our audience.
Jace seems to notice as well because he tugs my shirt out of its knot so it hangs below my butt again.
“You know, you can put your shirt back on now,” I remind him.
Jace smirks. “Maybe I like knowing I have your attention.”
Before Wes can serve, Madeline saunters up to him. “Hey! I know! We can play doubles.” She claps her hands excitedly. The beach wrap she’s got on over her bikini doesn’t do much to hide her bouncing boobs. The boys in the audience don’t seem to mind.
Wes shrugs and looks at Jace for approval. Jace nods slowly but he narrows his eyes suspiciously at Madeline.
It isn’t much of a game at first, because Madeline can’t seem to hit the ball over the net and onto the table. Each time it flies in the wrong direction she giggles and touches Wesley to apologize. It’s hard to believe anyone is that bad at ping pong, especially the Lincoln Academy varsity tennis team captain.
Eventually, Wes gets annoyed and starts hitting the balls that land on her side. But then Madeline gushes at his athletic prowess and rubs herself all over him. She’s putting on a show. But for whom?
I would think that the boys in the audience would lose interest in Madeline once they see she has her sights set on Wesley for the night. But no, apparently they love watching her air-brained flirtations and the way she manages to shake her booty and boobs with every movement. Even I’m a little impressed. The girl knows how to rock her body.
And once Wes realizes the game is hopeless, and that Madeline is seriously coming on to him, he starts to reciprocate the attention. I glance at Jace. His jaw is clenched and he doesn’t look amused.
Is he jealous?
I tilt my head, trying to evaluate Jace’s expression. He glances at me. “You ready to head out, Pep?” he asks. Though he’s asked my opinion, I can tell he’s over it. I am too.
I swallow, and realize there’s a lump in my throat. Madeline’s getting to me, but I can’t let her see it. “Yeah, okay,” I agree.
Jace takes my hand and leads me upstairs, not bothering with goodbyes. He doesn’t say anything until we’re in the car and pulling out of the driveway.
“It was Madeline, wasn’t it?” he asks.
I glance at him. The sharp lines of his jaw and forehead are silhouetted by the streetlights.
“She was the one messing with you earlier tonight,” he clarifies.
Sighing, I turn my gaze back to the road. “It doesn’t matter, Jace.”
“Of course it matters, Pep. She has no right to play games with you.” He stops the car at a stop sign and looks over at me. “And it’s only happening because of me. That’s not right.”
“I hardly ever run into her. I’ll handle it,” I assure him.
I hope his lack of response means he’s dropped it, but I know him better than that. Jace doesn’t like to leave things out of his control. Especially when it involves me.
Chapter 3
Pancakes at the Wilders’ house on Sunday mornings have become routine over the past two months. Now that Jace’s whereabouts aren’t so unpredictable – not to mention morally questionable – Dave and I can count on a hearty breakfast around 10:00 in the morning with Jace and his dad, Jim. Sometimes Wes swings by, too.
The Wilders have been our neighbors on Shadow Lane my whole life. They live just down the street from our apartment building.
After trudging the short way to their house in my pajamas and snow boots, I brush off Dave’s paws and open the front door. It smells like coffee and blueberry pancakes.
“Aw, lucky you, Dave,” I coo. “You won’t get left out this week like you did with the chocolate ones last week.” Dave’s ears perk up. “That’s right, no chocolate for doggies.” I shake my finger before pulling off my snow boots. A female pair of boots sits by the door, and I figure Jim’s girlfriend Sheila must be over.
Dave follows me into the kitchen. My jacket is halfway off when my gaze lands on the woman sitting at the small breakfast table. Those are Jace’s green eyes. Unlike Jace and Jim, the woman is petite, even bony. She’s wearing a long sweater and a colorful hippie-style skirt. Her thick black hair flows down to her waist. Though her cheeks are a bit sunken and she has dark circles under her eyes, the woman looks young – at least, young for the mother of an eighteen-year-old.
“Good morning, Pepper,” Jim greets me. He’s flipping pancakes, like it’s any other morning.
“Hey, Jim.” I head toward him for a quick hug, unwilling to deviate from our routine for her.
The anger vibrating inside me is startling. I had no idea I felt so strongly about this woman – a woman I don’t even remember. But she abandoned Jace when he was only four years old, and there can’t possibly be a good enough reason to justify that.
So, I ignore her. “Where’s Jace?” I ask.
“He’ll be up in a minute,” Jim tells me. He sips his coffee before breaking the ice. “Pepper, you probably don’t remember Jace’s mother, Annie, do you?”
I shake my head.
“I remember you, Pepper. And your Gran, Bunny. How is she?” Annie asks from her spot – my spot – at the table.
“She’s good.” My voice is monotone. How dare she come in here acting like she never left? Does she even know how much her abandonment has affected Jace? I’ve never spoken to Jace about his mother, but there’s a reason he craves power and control, especially in his interactions with other people. He won’t let himself be abandoned again. He’ll control who gets hurt. And it won’t be him.
It’s something I’ve always known about Jace, but never thought about much. It’s just the way he is. And it hurts him to be like that. Whether he’ll admit it or not.
Jace shuffles up the stairs in his sweatpants and a University of Colorado tee shirt. The Wilders live in a bi-level; Jace has the downstairs to himself.
His face is carefully expressionless, but he cracks a smile when he sees me. I walk toward him and nestle into his chest. Does he share my anger toward his mother? I realize how utterly clueless I am about Jace’s feelings toward her. Until now, we’ve acted like she doesn’t exist.
Dave shoves his head between our knees, trying to sandwich himself between us. “Hey buddy, you want in on the hug?” Jace asks him. We let Dave wiggle between us for a moment.
When Jace heads over to the table, I follow his lead and sit down at the fourth chair – not my usual spot, thanks to Annie.
Apparently Jace already faced his mother this morning, because he proceeds to pour maple syrup over his pancakes without any sort of outburst. I’m craving an outburst. I want him to throw something, scream, yell, let it all out. But no, the Wilders are acting like this is no big deal.
“So, how long are you in Brockton for?” Jace asks.
“Oh, I’m moving back,” Annie announces. “Living at a friend’s place for now, and looking for a job.”
Jace shovels some pancakes onto my plate, trying to shake me from staring dumbly at him.
“What kind of job?” Jim asks as he takes a seat with another plate full of pancakes. He slides a glass of orange juice over to me.
“Oh, I’m flexible. I have some experience waitressing, but I’ll just have to see who’s hiring.” Annie brushes her long hair over her shoulder and takes a small bite from her plate.
“Pep works at the Tavern in the summers. Do you think they might be hiring?” Jim asks me.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
Why isn’t anyone else angry with this woman? My appetite has van
ished. I tear off a piece of pancake and toss it to Dave, who’s waiting patiently under the table.
“What are you two up to today?” Annie asks brightly.
I flick my eyes to Jace.
“Probably work out, do some homework,” Jace answers casually. He must be trying to impress her, because he hardly ever does homework. Sometimes he’ll watch football at my house while I’m studying, but football season is over now. Why is he treating her like she’s his mother? She doesn’t deserve it.
“It’s just so great that you two are still friends. You spent a lot of time together as toddlers, you know?”
She went there. To the time when she was around. When my parents were still alive. That time period is not discussed in this house.
Fortunately, Jim starts asking Annie about West Virginia, where she apparently lived for the past few years. Jace places his hand on my thigh and squeezes. It’s absurd that I’m the one who needs reassurance in this situation.
We finish our breakfast, catching up on life as though Annie is just an old friend, not the mother who abandoned her child. Jace and Jim walk Annie out the door when her friend comes to pick her up while I hang back to stew in frustration.
I load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, and Dave helps me out with a prewash by licking off the crumbs. A shiver runs up my spine when Jace tugs me back toward his hips.
“Jim’s got plans with Sheila, so we’ve got the house to ourselves,” he whispers in my ear.
Wiping my hands on a towel, I spin around. “Are we really going to pretend like that was normal?”
Jace ignores my question and dips his head to kiss my collarbone. “I was so distracted by these pajamas, I wasn’t too concerned with anything else,” Jace mumbles as his lips move up to my neck and brush along my jaw.
“Jace, an ice-cream-cone-patterned flannel pajama set is just about the farthest thing from seductive – oh!” Jace lifts me up and begins carrying me down the stairs reverse-piggyback style. He somehow manages not to trip while continuing to nibble on my neck.
My intentions to probe about Annie fly out the window when he places me on his bed and hovers over me. He let me be in control last night, at least for a moment, probably sensing that I wanted to prove something to him, or to myself, I don’t know. But now, there’s no question that Jace is in charge. And with the way he kisses, I’m not complaining.