I shake my head. “I can’t touch that until I’m twenty-one.”
“Oh.” Frowning, he takes a swig of his beer.
“Well, if you want, you could always come work with us,” Holden suggests in a light tone that makes me think he’s kidding.
I let out a laugh, but then I catch sight of his expression and realize he’s serious.
“Yeah, I don’t think I could do that,” I tell him. “I mean, my father would do God knows what if he found out I was selling drugs.” Plus, while I like to act all tough, the idea of selling drugs scares me.
Holden studies me for a moment then reaches to take the joint from my hand. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Our boss is always looking for some new incomers who know the town. And you have all those rich people connections, right?”
“Your boss wants to start dealing to rich people?” I question.
He smirks. “Rich people can be the best customers. They use the most and always overpay.”
I nod like I understand, but I don’t. Not really. I mean, sure, I get high sometimes, but I’ve never dealt. Plus, I’m not really into hardcore drugs, something I’m pretty sure Holden deals. “I’ll think about it,” I finally say.
I still haven’t really thought about it. Well, not until Holden just brought it up again.
I pause for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to him.
Me: I’m still not sure if I want to.
He doesn’t reply right away, so I hurriedly take off my shirt and shoes and put on a clean T-shirt and some sneakers.
By the time I return to my phone, Holden has replied to let me know that, if I decide I want to accept his offer, let him know. And Ellis has sent a text, letting us know his truck started so he can drive.
I grab my wallet, keys, a joint, and my skateboard. Then I lock my bedroom door and head out onto the balcony attached to my room to sneak out using the tree beside it.
I know I’m going to pay for this later if I get caught, but with my mom entertaining downstairs, there’s a chance she might not notice I’m gone.
Sometimes, I think she pretends she doesn’t have a son. And sometimes, I like that she does—my life is less painful when she does.
After I climb down the tree, I use the back gate to sneak out to the front of the house. Then I hurry down the driveway and out onto the sidewalk, slowing down once I reach the end of the block. Breathing out in relief, I plop down on the grass and wait for Ellis to show up.
As I’m digging out my phone, a shadow casts over me. Moments later, boots appear in my line of vision. The toes are dotted with paint and the laces are undone. I scroll my gaze upward, traveling along a pair of long, smooth legs all the way up to a beautiful girl with wildly wavy hair and the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask Alexis. “No, wait. Let me guess. You missed me so much that you tracked me down so you could see my sexy face.”
She looks completely out of it, like she’s in some sort of trance. Then she blinks, looking down at me, and just like that, her expression turns neutral. I’m starting to notice she’s good at that—turning off her emotions. At least on the outside.
She shifts the handle of a backpack higher onto her shoulder. “I didn’t track you down. I was just heading … somewhere and saw you here, and …” She starts to walk away, but I jump to my feet and snag the sleeve of her flannel.
“Relax, Lex, I’m just messing with you.” I let go of her sleeve as she turns to face me. For a fleeting moment, she looks like she’s about to burst into tears. “Are you okay?” I ask worriedly.
She nods, her expression lacking all emotion again. “Yeah. Always am.”
I pull back, scratching my neck while assessing her, unsure of whether she’s telling the truth or not. Maybe she’s still upset about Blaine and Masie? I don’t know. It feels like there’s more to it than that, though.
Her gaze instantly zeroes in on my hand. “What the hell happened to your hand?”
I lift it up in front of my face and cringe at the sight of my knuckles that are swollen to twice their normal size. I was so distracted with getting the hell out of the house that I forgot to ice it. I also should’ve taken some painkillers since I’ll be skating. It’s too late now, though, because there’s no way in hell I’m going back into that house.
“It’s nothing,” I lie, lowering my hand to my side. “I just scraped my hand on something.”
“It looks like you hit something.” She arches her brows. “Or someone.”
“What? Are you an expert on punching things or something?” I tease, not wanting to tell her the real reason my hand is hurt.
She lifts a shoulder, scuffing the tip of her boot against the ground. “I’ve had to throw a few swings before.”
“Who the heck have you been fighting?” I ask curiously. “I mean, I know you’re a badass, but I haven’t heard of you getting into a fight lately.”
She shrugs again. “I haven’t gotten into a fight lately, but I have punched a few people before.”
“True.” I give a short pause before admitting, “I may have punched someone in the face.”
She inspects me over with those gorgeous eyes of hers. “Who?”
I eye her over as meticulously as she is me. “Why do I feel like you already know the answer to that?”
She chews on her bottom lip, the move nearly driving my body mad. “Masie texted me and told me you punched Blaine in the face.”
“Oh.” I squirm, feeling as though my secret feelings for her have been exposed.
“So, you did do it?” She squints against the light of the nearby lamppost as she observes me closely.
I give a casual shrug, hoping I appear calmer than I feel on the outside, hoping she won’t see my feelings toward her. “Yeah, but I partly did it because I’m pissed off at him.”
“What’d he do to you that’s so bad you wanted to punch him?”
Hurt you.
I resist saying the words aloud and try to think of something more clever to say. But all I end up doing is shrugging and saying, “He’s been getting on my nerves lately.”
She bobs her head up and down. “Seems like a justifiable reason to punch him.”
I cock a brow. “Is that sarcasm I detect?”
She dismisses me with a flick of her wrist. “Nah. I’d be a total hypocrite if I judged you for punching someone.”
A trace of a smile tugs at my lips, but it fades when I note her frown. “What’s up, Lex? You look upset.”
“I’ve looked like that all day.”
“I know, but … Is it because of Masie and Blaine?” Because it feels like it might be something else.
Shaking her head, she blows out a frustrated exhale. “I’m just pissed off that Blaine knows about my crush on him. I hate when people know my personal shit, and this … I wish I could find a way to make her look like a liar. I mean, if I hadn’t lost my shit earlier, I probably could’ve pretended she was, but then I freaked out and took off and now he knows, knows. And I just wish there was a way to make him think I don’t like him anymore. Like, I’m over it …” She trails off, sliding her gaze to me. “Shit, I forgot you were standing there.”
“Glad to know I’m invisible to you,” I joke, but it really kind of stings.
“That’s not what I meant.” She offers me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
“You’re fine,” I say, but all she does is frown. “Lex,” I say, wanting to make her feel better. “Tell me what I can do.”
She gives me a funny look. “For what?”
I step closer to her. “To make you feel better.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. I can tell.”
She fiddles with the leather band on her wrist, the one I gave her. “Yeah, I am. Like I said, I’m just irritated because Blaine knows I like him and I hate people knowing my business. Plus, Masie texted me earlier and was being a total bitch about it.”
&nb
sp; “What?” I pretend to be surprised, but I’m not.
“Yeah, it’s pretty messed up.” She shrugs then sighs. “I wish I could say I’m surprised, but part of me isn’t.”
“Me neither,” I admit, racking my brain for a solution to her problem.
I get the whole not-wanting-people-to-know-about-my-feelings thing. I’ve liked Lex forever and, in the beginning, no one knew because I was almost always dating someone else. Or, well, hooking up with someone. Then I kind of stopped that, which led to Blaine asking me if I liked her because, apparently, I spent a lot of time staring at her and talking about her. I told him no, but I’m not sure if he believed me.
Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that, when I was dating people, I was able to keep my feelings for Alexis hidden better.
“You could always date someone else,” I suggest, even though the idea makes me feel like I want to punch something. Like, say, Blaine’s face again.
She tilts her head to the side. “What?”
I shrug. “I’ve done that before, and it worked.”
Her forehead creases. “Who did you like that you didn’t want them to know?”
I shake my head. “There’s no way I’m telling you that. I worked too hard to keep it a secret.” I wink at her, but the move feels kind of forced.
She grimaces. “I can see why maybe that’d work, but I’m not much of a dater. Plus, no one even wants to date me.”
I roll my eyes. God, she’s so blind sometimes.
“That’s not true at all,” I tell her, holding her gaze, hoping she’ll see how much I mean my words.
“Yeah, it is.” She heaves a heavy sigh. “And even if it weren’t, like I said, I’m not much of a dater anyway … I’m not even in a place to date right now.”
I rub my lips together, the wheels in my brain turning.
Don’t say it, West. It’ll be a disaster.
“You could always date me,” I say then mentally curse myself.
What the hell is wrong with me? I might as well be holding a sign up that reads: Hey, I’m in love with you, and I’m getting desperate.
Her brows spring upward. “You think we, as in you and me”—she motions between us—“should date?”
“Okay, I’m gonna try not to take your shock about that offensively.” I put on a grin, but deep down, I’m hurt by her words and pissed off at myself for letting my emotions get the best of me. There’s no going back now, though. “Look, it’s not that bad of an idea. I know the situation, so I can totally play along. Plus, we agreed earlier to try to be friends.”
“Yeah, but this is pretending to be more than friends,” she mumbles, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she stares at me in a way that makes me actually start to sweat. “But I guess it might work. Just as long as we don’t have to kiss or anything like that.”
Shit, did she say yes?
I try not to fucking grin. “Trust me; having to kiss me wouldn’t be the downfall of this idea. I’m a fantastic kisser.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter, because there won’t be any kissing.”
“Then, how are we going to convince people we’re actually dating?” I point out.
She crinkles her nose. “I don’t know … We’ll figure it out …” She sighs audibly. “Look, if we’re gonna do this, we should probably make a list of rules.”
“Rules?” I pout. “That doesn’t sound very fun. And since when are you into rules?”
“I’m not.” She shifts her weight. “But this seems like it might be a need-rules sort of thing.”
“Why?” I ask curiously.
She gives a half-shrug. “Because.”
She’s being vague, and it has me so damn curious I can barely stand it.
“Because isn’t a reason.”
She flashes me a cheeky grin. “Yeah, it is, because I just used it as one.”
I decide to play her little game, grinning right back. Then I inch toward her, causing confusion to flicker in her eyes. It gives me a twisted sense of satisfaction.
“All right, Alexis Baker, you’ve got yourself a fake boyfriend.” I keep my gaze welded on her as I stick out my hand.
In typical, Lex style, she holds my gaze in an almost challenging way as she places her hand in mine. The look makes me grin, because she’s acting like the Lex I know, which means that maybe she’s already moving past Blaine.
“Okay, now for the rules …” She trails off, pulling a face at something behind me.
I start to turn around to see what she’s looking at when a cop car pulls up to the side of us. A moment later, Milo climbs out. He used to be best friends with Alexis’s older sister, Jessamine, until she moved out of the country. Of course that was a few years ago, and now he’s a police officer, all decked out in a uniform and everything.
“Dammit,” she mumbles with her nose scrunched.
I cast her a sidelong glance. “I’m guessing he’s here for you?”
“I don’t know … Probably.”
I bite back a laugh. Damn, that girl gets in more trouble than I do.
Milo rounds the back of the patrol car and steps up in front of Alexis. “Hey, Alexis, I need you to come with me to the station for a bit,” he says with reluctance.
Lex crosses her arms and stares him down. “What the hell for?”
He glances down at her shoes then lifts a brow as he looks up at her again. “Because you have paint splattered all over your shoes.”
What the hell?
I glance down at her boots that I already noticed are dotted with various colors of paint. I don’t know why that means Milo is here to arrest her. She is an artist. At least, she used to be. Not sure if she paints anymore.
“I didn’t realize that was a crime,” Alexis quips in a snarky tone. “Honeyton must really be hurting for some action around here, huh?”
Milo heaves a weighted sigh. “Please just be cooperative.”
“Whatever,” she mumbles then stomps toward the vehicle.
“You gonna be okay?” I call out after her.
What the heck did you do, Lex?
She dismisses me with a shrug. “I always am.”
I know she’s lying. She hasn’t been okay since her parents passed away. And, while I want to help her, I can’t unless she lets me in.
One day, beautiful girl, I’m going to get you to open up to me, I silently vow to myself. Maybe I can try to get her to do it during this whole fake boyfriend thing.
Yeah, I’m liking the sound of that.
Of course, depending on what rules she tries to set, it might be complicated. I’ll just have to work around it. I’m good at working around complicated stuff.
Eight
Alexis
“I’m sorry about this, Alexis,” Milo says as he drives down the main road in town and toward the police station.
He had me sit in front and didn’t handcuff me. I think it’s because he believes he’s being nice. Wherever I sit doesn’t matter—I’m still being arrested whether I sit in the front or back. And, while I pretend not to give a shit, I know this is going to cause drama with Loki. And I’ve had about enough drama for the day.
“Why are you sorry?” I glance at Milo with my brows raised. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I know, but …” He sighs, gripping the steering wheel. “It doesn’t feel right hauling you in. I mean, if Jessa knew …” He clears his throat, growing squirrely, probably at the mention of my oldest sister.
Milo and Jessa used to be best friends until Jessa took off to live in London. Now they don’t speak, always saying they lost touch, but I think there’s more to the story than that.
“But yeah, I don’t like that I have to do this,” Milo mutters under his breath.
“Why do you have to do it, though?” I ask.
While he insinuated earlier that he’s hauling me in because of the whole spray-painting incident, he never flat-out said it. So, I’m not positive that’s the reason. An
d I want to be positive of what’s going on so I can figure out a way to lie my way out of this.
He glances at me. “Don’t you already know?”
I shake my head, playing dumb. “Nope. Don’t have a clue.”
“Alexis,” he says in a tolerant tone, “please don’t play dumb with me.”
I give him my best innocent look. “I’m not playing dumb. I legit don’t know.”
He searches my face then shakes his head and focuses back on the road. “Someone spotted you spray-painting the side of a store today and reported it.”
“What?” I pretend to be shocked, but my backpack full of spray cans feels like it weighs fifty pounds. “I haven’t spray-painted anything except for when I’m in art class.”
He flicks a pressing glance in my direction. “There’s paint on your shoes.”
“Yeah, so? I’m an artist. I always have paint all over everything.” I lift up my foot, crossing my fingers he doesn’t ask to look in my bag. “Some of these paint splatters are, like, from two years ago.” Back before my parents died. Back before everything went to shit. Back before I stopped caring whether things went to shit.
Back before …
Before …
Before …
Almost everything became broken.
A tightness pushes up through me, but I swallow hard, pressing down the urge to scream.
I need to get out of here.
Milo releases a quiet sigh as he turns into the police station. “There’s also a good chance you were caught on the store’s security cameras,” he warns as he parks in front of the building and turns off the engine.
I’m not one to get too panicky, but that remark does have me kind of concerned. Still, I play dumb.
“No, it didn’t, because I didn’t do it.”
He lets out another sigh then pushes his door open and climbs out. Then he rounds the front of the car, opens the passenger door, and signals for me to get out. I do so calmly and composedly, refusing to freak out and let on that I’m the one who painted on the store. Innocent until proven guilty, right? And until I know the police have real proof that I did it, I’m going to pretend that I didn’t.
Signed with a Kiss: A Novel (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 1) Page 7