Signed with a Kiss: A Novel (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 1)

by Jessica Sorensen

  I swallow hard as I recall the line they’re referring to:

  Like this cracked brick the paint stains,

  My heart connects to the words,

  The surface, cracked and shattered,

  But still existing,

  Like the paint,

  But hidden underneath my ribs for no one to see.

  They’ll see this paint, though.

  See the stains and the cracks in the bricks.

  See the decay the paint tries to cover up.

  That one hadn’t remained up for too long, since it rained right after and before the paint could even dry. Apparently, someone did see it, though, before the rain washed it all away.

  Me: What did you take from me?

  Unknown: I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet. You were right there, looking at it.

  Me: Stop talking in riddles and just tell me.

  Unknown: The dust hasn’t settled yet. That’s your first clue.

  “What’s wrong?” West asks, glancing at me worriedly.

  I hold up a finger, my heart hammering in my chest as I type back a reply.

  Me: Were you in my parents' bedroom? If so, I’m going to turn you into the police, you asshole.

  Unknown: Go ahead. While you’re at it, you might as well confess to all your crimes.

  Every muscle in my body throbs with anger.

  “Seriously, what the heck is going in?” West’s voice turns demanding.

  When I don’t answer right away, mostly because it makes me feel uneasy talking about my criminal activities aloud, he grumbles incoherently under his breath then pulls the car over to the side of the road.

  “What’re you doing?” I peer around at the houses lining both sides of the street.

  He doesn’t answer, reaching over and stealing the phone out of my hand.

  “Hey, what the heck?” I reach to steal it back, but he holds it away from me.

  “Look, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” He gives me a pressing look. “And I told you last night that I would.”

  “I know, but …” I chew on my bottom lip. “It’s just weird talking about this.”

  He angles his head to the side. “Talking about the person blackmailing you?”

  “No. Talking about the stuff he’s trying to blackmail me with.”

  He glances down at the phone in his hand then locks gazes with me. “You mean, with the whole graffiti thing?”

  I give an uneasy nod. “I know I kind of told you about it last night, but it’s still weird just talking about it.” Not just because what I did was illegal, but because those words I painted were part of my heart pouring out of me. And I hate that he may have seen it, seen the words and feelings that I pretend I don’t have.

  Pretend.

  When did it get so hard not to pretend?

  It’s like the closer I get to him, the more I start to fall apart from the inside out. Why, though? It’s not like I haven’t had any damn friends before. But pretending around Masie was easy. It even was mostly with Blaine.

  He assesses me way too closely for my liking. “I get that but, if you want me to help you, you’ve got to trust me.”

  Trust. Do I even know what the word means anymore?

  Who the hell knows?

  “Fine.” I take the phone back from him but only so I can unlock the screen. Then I give it back. “The blackmailer just sent me a ton of messages. You can read them if you want.”

  Worry flickers in his eyes as he fixes his gaze on the screen.

  While he reads, I stare out the window, pretending like I’m perfectly okay. Pretending like the messages aren’t bothering me. But they are. Every word the texter sent is crawling underneath my flesh, especially the part about how they stole something from my parents’ room.

  Apparently, he’s on the same brainwaves as me. “Wait … They admitted to breaking into your house?” Rage simmers in his tone, and when I glance at him, I see that the rage anger is blazing in his eyes.

  “Yeah, that pissed me off, too. And honestly, I’d think they were full of shit, but after that banging noise I heard, and then me noticing something was missing, I think they might be telling the truth.”

  The muscle in his jaw pulsates, and the look in his eyes throws me off. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen West look so angry before.

  “When I find out who this is, I’m going to beat the shit out of them.” He hands me back the phone then puts one hand on the shifter and the other on the steering wheel.

  “Not if I beat you to it,” I tell him, setting my phone down on my lap.

  He shakes his head, rolling his tongue in his mouth before looking at me. “You don’t have any idea what they took?”

  “No, but I can maybe talk to my brothers and sisters and see if I can figure it out.” Although, that might lead to a ton of questions that I don’t want to answer. But, in order to get to the bottom of who’s messing with me, I may have to suck it up and deal with it.

  He scrubs his hand across his jawline. “And you have no idea at all who could be doing this?”

  “I already told you last night that the only people I can think of are Masie and Blaine. But I think I arrived at the conclusion that I’m not sure if they’re smart enough to be doing this.”

  “Yeah, definitely. And really, I can’t see Blaine doing this to you. I mean, he’s an asshole, but this mean girl, blackmailing bullshit definitely isn’t his style.”

  “I agree.” I give a short pause. “It’s kind of Masie’s, though. That is, if she was smart enough to do something like this.”

  “She could be having someone do it for her.”

  “True, but then it comes back to the why.”

  “I know. Plus, how would she have found out about your”—the corners of his lips quirk—“colorful extracurricular activities?”

  I shrug. “She could’ve easily seen me at some point. Really, anyone could’ve.” If only I realized that sooner, but I wasn’t thinking rationally when I painted those words on the walls.

  I rarely am, even before my parents died.

  “One of these days, your inability to think things through and think about the consequences of your actions is going to get you in trouble,” my mom told me after I’d gotten caught shoplifting a tube of lipstick.

  I was fourteen at the time and had done it because one of my friends—aka Masie—had talked me into it. At the time, I felt like I had to because Masie was my friend and she really wanted that tube of lipstick.

  “My mom won’t let me buy makeup,” she had told me as we stood in the aisle, debating whether or not we should steal it. “And I’d totally steal it myself, but you have a jacket on, so it’ll be easier for you to slip it into your pocket.”

  “What if someone sees me?” I had asked as I nervously peered around the semi-crowded store.

  “No one will if you do it carefully,” she had encouraged me. Then she had clasped her hands in front of her. “Please, Lex. I really want to wear it to the dance tonight so I can impress Carter. You know he only likes girls who are more mature, and this lipstick is going to make me look so much older.”

  Sighing, I ended up caving and slipped the lipstick into my pocket.

  I hadn’t thought about how stupid the decision was, or how Masie always had a ton of money on her, so why didn’t she just buy it herself? Her mother would’ve never known. Really, there was no point of me stealing it, yet I did it without questioning her.

  Story of my damn life.

  Not anymore. No, I am never going to be that girl again.

  West shifts gears and drives back onto the road. “So, if we made a list of suspects, the list would be long then?”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Who’d be the top suspects, do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” I mull it over, wishing I knew what was missing from that vanity. If I did, then maybe I’d have a better idea of who’s doing this. Then again, this entire thing is super
bizarre, so maybe I wouldn’t. “I have a lot of enemies.”

  His expression softens as he casts a glance at me. “You have some enemies, but not a lot. And you have friends.”

  “No, I really don’t.” I resist the urge to swallow hard, not wanting to reveal how much this is getting under my skin. “Even before the whole Masie and Blaine shit-fest, I didn’t have a lot of friends. I never really have. Which is fine. Not everyone needs a ton of friends. But being totally friendless kind of sucks.”

  “You’re not totally friendless,” he reminds me. “Remember, I’m your new BFF.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re barely my F.”

  “Well, we can change that.” He throws me a smirk. “Tonight, you can sleepover, I’ll braid your hair, and then we’ll have a pillow fight.”

  “I already told you that’s not what BBFs do.” But I appreciate him saying all that since it’s kind of making me feel better.

  At least about the friendless thing.

  “When we’re at the diner, checking out the help wanted ads, we should make a list of enemies,” he says as he flips on the blinker and steers into the parking lot of the old-fashioned diner. He parks near the marque, shuts off the engine, and then rotates toward me, giving me his undivided attention. “I know this part might be difficult for you, but I really think you should find out what’s missing from your parents’ bedroom.”

  This time, I do swallow hard. I can’t help it. The lump in my throat is way too big.

  “Okay. I’ll think about it and check with my brothers and sisters, too. Maybe they know what it is.”

  He rubs his lips together, mulling something over. “You wouldn’t by chance have security cameras around the house, do you?”

  I shake my head as I unfasten my seatbelt. “No. We have a security alarm, but no cameras.”

  “Damn. This would’ve been so much easier if you did.” He reaches for the door handle, pushes open the door, and then moves to climb out. “Come on; let’s get me a job and solve a mystery.” He smiles at me.

  For a crazy moment, I smile back. But, as I get out of the car, that brief, rare smile is stolen away from me.

  Because inside the diner is Jay and his friends.

  Twenty

  Alexis

  It’s not like I don’t see Jay and his friends at school. I do. And I saw them the other day right before I got busted for spray-painting the side of the store. But every time I’m around them, I think of those horrible moments that fill up my past.

  “You’re so fucking ugly.”

  Hands all over me.

  Touching me.

  I want to scream, but somehow, the locket I’m wearing ends up in my mouth. I’m choking on it.

  I can’t breathe.

  “Your skin is as cold as ice.”

  “Goddammit,” I mumble under my breath as West and I approach the counter to place an order.

  I can hear Jay and his friends cackling from a booth in one of the far back corners, the sound like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  I grit my teeth so hard my jaw pops and my fingernails fold inward, stabbing into my palms and piercing my skin. A rage simmers underneath my flesh, scorching hot. Rage. So much rage.

  I want to scream at the top of my lungs, rip my mask off, and tell the entire world.

  I want to make everyone’s ears bleed with my shame and misery.

  I want to paint this diner with the pain that stains my soul—

  “Lex?”

  I blink and find West staring at me with worry creased between his brows.

  “What?” I ask without a clue as to why he’s looking at me like that.

  The crease between his brow deepens. “Are you okay? You seem … I don’t know, like you’re pissed off.” His gaze sweeps across the booths and, for a horrifying moment, I worry he’ll be able to put two and two together. But, how could he? I’ve never told anyone about the godawful things Jay and his friends did to me.

  And. I. Won’t.

  “I’m fine.” My voice sounds thick—too thick—emotions cramming it.

  West notices, too, which bugs me. Not only because that means my grasp on my emotions are slipping, but he’s also seeing me too much.

  His gaze sweeps across my face, and then he parts his lips, but who the heck knows what he would’ve said, because I don’t wait to hear it, moving away and approaching the ordering counter. Then I attempt to concentrate on the menu, despite the fact that 1). I’m not hungry, 2). I can feel West’s gaze dissecting me as he steps up beside me, and 3). Jay and his stupid hyena friends won’t stop cackling.

  “Honestly, I’m not that hungry,” I tell him in a lame attempt to pretend everything is okay. “I ate a sandwich right before you picked me up.”

  He continues to stare at me for a pulsating heartbeat of a second longer before glancing at the menu. “You can always go with a shake and fries. I know you like dipping fries into your shake.” He nudges my shoulder. “Because you’re a weirdo.”

  I arch a brow at him. “I’m the weirdo? Didn’t you used to eat bologna and peanut butter sandwiches?”

  At that precise moment, the cashier approaches the register. I think she’s a junior at our school.

  When she hears what I said, she pulls a disgusted face.

  West dazzles her with a charming smile. “What? Doesn’t that sound good?”

  Her disgust turns into lust, which gives me disgust, so yeah, it’s kind of a vicious cycle.

  “Not really,” she tells West with a flirty smile. “It seriously sounds kind of gross.”

  “Hey, don’t dis it until you try it.” He continues to grin at her as he drapes his arm around my shoulders. “That’s what I’m always telling my girlfriend.”

  What?

  What the freakin’ …? What the …?

  Huh?

  I gape at him, completely confounded. “What’re you doing—”

  He places a finger against my lips. “Shh … Don’t pretend like you don’t secretly love everything I do to you behind closed doors.”

  I glare at him, opening my mouth, and not to protest, but to bite his damn finger. But then he gives me a pressing look, and it clicks.

  Cashier girl knows us from school. So do a lot of people in this diner. And we’re supposed to be trying to establish a fake relationship.

  Of course I could always back out. Now is the moment to do so if I want to. But, as Jay’s laughter hits my back—a reminder of all the embarrassment I’ve experienced in school—I put on a sparkling fake smile.

  Look at me, Alexis Baker, sparkling once again.

  But it’s all fakeness and a façade, because I’m dead inside.

  “Everything you do to me?” I question. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m always the one doing stuff to you.”

  Surprise glitters in his eyes, and he grins as he lowers his finger from my lips. “So naughty,” he whispers just loud enough for me to hear.

  And, well, cashier girl. At least, I assume she hears since she starts blushing.

  I don’t blame the poor girl. I kind of want to blush as well. But I manage to portray a calm demeanor.

  West lightly strokes his finger along my shoulder as he looks at cashier girl and begins placing his order. I take his advice and get a shake and fries. When I try to pay, though, West is a pain in the ass.

  “I’m the one that made you come out for lunch,” he tells me as he pulls some cash out of his wallet.

  I put a hand on his, stopping him. “Yeah, but with what happened last night”—with his parents cutting him off—“you should probably be careful with your money.”

  His fingers tense, but his expression remains composed. “I’m fine. I can handle buying lunch.” Then he wiggles his hand out of mine and puts the cash down on the counter.

  I hope he’s right. Still, I’m kind of worried about him.

  I guess I can help by helping him find a job. Not that I think I’m going to be that great of a helper with this, but I’ll try my best
.

  After we place our order and pay, West and I head toward the booth area. When West starts to move toward a booth near Jay and his friends, though, I panic and grab his sleeve.

  “Let’s sit closer to the register,” I mumble, backtracking, and plop down into a booth without waiting to hear his answer.

  He starts back toward me with his forehead creased then slides into the booth across from me. “What was that about?”

  I shrug, picking up a saltshaker and spinning it around in my hands in an attempt to busy myself. After a few spins, West steals it from my hands.

  “All right, what’s up?” He moves the saltshaker out of my reach, and then the peppershaker, like he knows I’m going to grab that one instead. “Because I can tell something’s up. Something’s been up since we walked into this place.”

  “I already told you that I’m fine,” I lie, reclining back in the booth.

  “No, you’re not. And I want to know why.” He crosses his arms on the table and leans forward, getting really close to me as he stares me down.

  I roll my eyes. “Is that you trying to be intimidating?”

  He bites back a smile. “Not trying. I am intimidating.”

  I snort a laugh. “Okay.”

  He feigns being insulted, pressing his hand to his chest. “Hey, I can be intimidating.”

  "Maybe at first glance," I inform him. "But you lose your intimidation factor as soon as you open your mouth and nothing but jokes come out."

  “I don’t always joke.”

  “You do a lot.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that.” He gives a considering pause. “I was intimidating the other day, though. You know, when I punched Blaine in the face.”

  “I wasn’t there,” I point out. “So I didn’t see it. And for all I know, Blaine could’ve totally laughed after you did it.”

  His brow curves upward playfully. “You want me to hit him again so you can see how scared he is? I’ll do it tonight at the party.”