“As interesting as that sounds, considering you almost got arrested the first time you did it, you probably shouldn’t.”
He grins. “Aw, look at you worrying about my wellbeing.”
“Nah. I just don’t want you getting arrested. Trust me; it sucks.”
“You are the expert on getting arrested,” he agrees, resting back in the booth and crossing his arms.
“That, I am.” A smile pulls at my lips, but then it fades as Jay strolls by our booth.
He doesn’t say anything, but his gaze strays toward me, and the fucker winks.
What the actual hell? Why did he do that when he hasn’t glanced my way since that day I told the vice principal about him bullying me?
My heart rate quickens, my palms dampen with sweat, and my hands ball into fists.
Do not lose your cool, Alexis.
Stay calm.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I can’t breathe!
My necklace …
It’s choking me.
As he pins me to the floor.
“What the hell did he do to you?” West’s voice tears me out of my panic.
“What?” I stare at him for a moment, trying to replay what he said. “Who?”
His gaze never wavers from me as he points toward the entrance doors of the diner where Jay is walking out. “Jay fucking Miller.”
I play dumb, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest, desperate to pound the secret out of me. “He didn’t do anything to me.”
“Bull. Shit,” he bites out, his cheery demeanor nonexistent. “I can see it all over his face. And I saw the fucker wink at you.” He slants forward. “What did he do to you, Lex?”
“Noth-ing,” I annunciate the word. “He just winked at me. It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re lying.” His words are firm, then his voice softens a bit. “I know he used to mess with you, but your reaction just barely … that was beyond your normal fear. You were terrified.”
I bounce my leg up and down, restless and annoyed with his speculation. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not afraid of anything.”
He shakes his head, his gaze so damn intense that I feel like I can’t breathe again. “You’re lying.”
“What is wrong with you?” As frustration swells inside me, I stand up to leave. I’ll walk home. I’ll do anything just to get away from this—from his truth-seeking eyes. “You know what? Forget it. I’m done with this whole pretending to be friends thing.”
I move to leave when he hurriedly reaches across the table and snags ahold of my sleeve. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I crossed a line … I’m just worried about you; that’s all. If you don’t want me to talk about this, I won’t.”
Pressing my lips together, I turn back toward him then stick out my pinkie. “Pinkie swear?”
His lips quirk into an adorable half-smile, and then he hitches his pinkie with mine. “I pinkie swear.” Then he tugs on my pinkie, pulling me back down into the booth.
Right as my butt hits the cushion, the waitress arrives with our order. I latch on to the distraction like I latch on to every other distraction that doesn’t have to do with the past or facing my emotions.
I’m starting to doubt I’ll be able to keep this up forever. Like what just happened with West. I just about cracked apart, and he noticed. No one has noticed before, and I don’t know what to do with that.
Maybe this is why I never had any close friends. Even Masie was a safe bet, because she only cared about herself. Perhaps West isn’t like Masie, though. Perhaps he can see through the cracks in my mask.
I am so screwed.
“Do you still dip your fries into your shake?” The sound of his voice draws me from my thoughts as he takes the tray from the waitress and sets it down in front of us.
I take a subtle breath to collect myself then pick up a fry and dunk it in my shake. “Yep.” I pop the shake-soaked fry into my mouth and let out a moan. “It’s so damn good.”
“Yeah, no, it’s not,” he disagrees, unwrapping his hamburger. “But watching you eat it and moan like that makes it look good.”
I stare at him, unimpressed. “Is that a lame-ass attempt at an innuendo?”
“None of my innuendos are lame.” He throws me a cheeky grin then bites into his hamburger.
I roll my eyes as I pick up another fry. “You’re seriously such a pervert sometimes. Too bad you can’t, like, get a job as a male escort or something.”
He points a finger at me. “Hey, maybe I can.”
“Not legally,” I tell him. “You’re not even eighteen.”
He sets the burger down and waves me off with a flick of his wrist. “I will be in just a couple of weeks.”
I stuff another fry into my mouth. “So, you’re saying you want to be a male escort? Because, if so, you could probably look into stripping, too.”
He smirks. “Wow. You’re really good at this whole job-hunting thing.”
I smirk back. “Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted to be a male escort. I was just giving you another option.”
“I’ll look into it,” he tells me, wiping his fingers off with a napkin. “I mean, I’m definitely sexy enough, so that’s not a problem.”
I roll my eyes again as I reach for another fry.
“Oh, don’t you roll those pretty eyes at me,” he says as he picks up his hamburger again. “We both know you think I’m a sexy beast.”
“There’s no way you could possibly know that.”
An impish grin creeps across his face. “Well, I didn’t until you didn’t deny that you don’t.”
When I narrow my eyes at him, he flashes me a toothy grin.
I grin right back at him. “You have a chunk of lettuce in your teeth, sexy beast.”
He shakes his head then picks the lettuce out of his teeth with his finger.
I pull a face as I dip another fry into my shake. “And word of advice; when you’re stripping your clothes off, don’t pick the lettuce out of your teeth.”
“What? Isn’t that sexy?” He innocently bats his eyelashes at me.
I seal my lips together. Okay, that whole batting-his-eyelashes thing is pretty sexy. But yeah, that’s a secret I’m going to keep to myself.
“Hmm …” He meticulously studies me. “You’ve got a weird look on your face.”
I wipe off whatever look I have on my face and stuff some fries into my mouth. “That’s a look of annoyance. I’m surprised you don’t recognize it, considering I almost always have it on whenever I look at you.”
He makes a big show of rolling his eyes. “Your looks of annoyance are actually looks of endearing.” When I open my mouth to throw a quip at him, he holds up his hand. “It’s cool. We can pretend for now. Just like we’re pretending about everything else.”
I sense an underlying meaning in his words but can’t quite figure out what it is. Or maybe I just don’t want to.
He practically stuffs the last half of the burger into his mouth then balls up the wrapper and tosses it onto the tray. “So, about this whole job thing,” he changes the subject as he retrieves his phone from his pocket. “Where do you think I should start? I mean, I can pull up the help wanted listings on my phone.” He taps the screen. “But, how the hell do I know which ones are going to hire some teenage punk?”
“Well, first of all, you can’t think of yourself as a teenage punk if you want to get a job. Trust me; even I had to pretend I was semi-mature in order to get hired. Although, I had a hard time keeping up the act. Obviously, since I’ve been fired a ton of times.” I take the phone from him.
“Hey,” he protests, reaching for the phone. “You little phone thief.”
I move the phone out of his reach. “I’m just looking at the listings you pulled up,” I inform him, glancing at the screen. On it, there is a long list of jobs available all throughout Honeyton. “Although, with how twitchy you’re acting right now, I’m wondering if you have something weird on
your phone.” I glance at him with my brow curved up. To my surprise, he squirms. “Okay, at first, I was kidding, but now you seem so twitchy that I’m actually wondering if you do have something hiding on here.”
He scratches the side of his neck. “I just don’t like people messing around with my phone.”
I’m not buying it at all.
“Do you have, like, naked selfies on here?”
He snorts a laugh. “No. And even if I did, I wouldn’t care if you looked at them.”
“Like I’d want to see them,” I scoff.
“Liar,” he retorts, leaning back in the booth and putting his hands behind his head. “Man, you’re a little liar, liar, pants on fire today, aren’t you?”
I stick my tongue out at him. “It takes one to know one.”
“What are we? Like two?”
“Nah. I think I said that stuff in second grade.”
“So, that means you have the maturity of an eight-year-old right now.”
“Coming from the guy who just picked lettuce out of his teeth with his finger.”
“That’s a very valid point.” He stretches his arms above his head, causing his shirt to ride up. “I guess we’re both immature then.”
I try not to stare. I really do. But I can’t help glancing a couple of times at the lean muscles clearly hidden underneath his shirt.
But then I see something else.
Something that makes my stomach sink.
“Where did you get all those scars on your stomach?” I ask, meeting his gaze.
His expression falters as he quickly lowers his arms. “Those are just from an accident I had.”
“An accident from what? And when?”
He shrugs, staring at the empty booth beside us. “I don’t know. It was like in third grade or something.”
I study him closely, the way he avoids eye contact with me. Something’s wrong.
“What happened?”
He lifts a shoulder. "I think I fell off the monkey bars or something."
He’s lying. I don’t know how. Or maybe the whole takes a liar to know a liar thing has some truth to it.
I could press him, but then he could press me about why I got all weird around Jay. So, I decide to let it drop for now; shove the questions down and bottle them inside me, along with everything else.
Sometimes, I wonder how much bottling up I can do before I shatter from the inside out.
Twenty-One
Alexis
Things are a bit awkward between West and I for the rest of lunch. Still, we manage to find him a few jobs to apply for by the time we’re done. Then we head out to his car.
I expect him to drive me home at that point so he can ditch the awkwardness, but he drives in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?” I wonder, flipping down the visor to block out the blinding sunlight.
“To meet that friend of mine who’s gonna look at your phone and see if he can figure out who’s harassing you,” he says like it’s obvious.
“Oh.” I pause. “You still want to do that?”
He narrows his brows as he glances at me. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
I give a half-shrug. “ ’Cause things got weird at lunch.”
He has two hands on the steering wheel but lowers one to rest on the shifter. “It kind of did, didn’t it?” He downshifts as the speed limit lowers. “Sorry about that. I just …” His throat muscles work as he swallows hard. “I don’t like talking about the scars.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” I shift in the seat, bringing my leg up against my chest. “You don’t need to ask your friend to look at my phone either, if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine,” he assures. “Although, I think I should warn you about this place we’re going to.”
“The place you’re staying at?”
He gives me a wavering nod. “It’s a little … well, not as nice as my parents’ house or yours.”
“No one’s house is as nice as yours. But so what if this place isn’t nice? I’m not a snob.”
“No, I know that.” He nibbles on his lip ring while casting me a sidelong glance. “But it’s … Well, the only way I can think of how to put it is that it’s a shithole.”
“I’ve been to shitholes before, West. I’m not a high maintenance, rich girl.”
“No, I know that, but …” He hesitates. Again.
Yeah, something’s definitely up.
“Come on, best friend; just spit it out,” I try to coax it out of him.
His lips spread into a smile. “So I am your best friend?”
I reach over and playfully pinch his arm. “Stop trying to change the subject.”
He winces then pouts. “Oh, fine.” He heaves out a heavy sigh. “These guys, Holden and Ellis, they’re a little … sketchy.”
“Sketchy how?”
He shrugs. “Ellis is kind of a hacker. Obviously. Holden is … Well, he’s cool and everything, but sometimes he creeps the hell out of me. Plus, there’s always some random people going in and out of their place.”
“So, basically, it’s like a drug house?”
“No … Or, well, people do drugs there, but …” He lifts his hand from the shifter and scratches his head. “I don’t know. It’s just sketchy, okay? And the people who hang out there are sketchy, so I just want you to be careful while you’re there. Honestly, I don’t even want to take you there, but I also think we really need to get your phone looked at.”
“While I appreciate your concern, I’m a big girl and can handle being around some sketchy people,” I assure him. “What I don’t like is you living in that sort of situation. I mean, how did you even end up friends with these guys?”
“I met them at the skatepark. They weren’t there skating, though.”
“What were they doing?”
“Getting high.”
“Oh.”
He looks at me then, meeting my gaze for the first time since the awkwardness started. “Does that make you think less of me?”
I roll my eyes so damn hard that they nearly get stuck in my head. “Why the hell would it? I’ve been arrested more times than I can count on one hand. I’ve partied, gotten into fights, and now I’m being blackmailed because of one of my many dumbass decisions.”
“I know, but …” He grows cautious. “You did all those things because you were going through some stuff. Some painful stuff.”
He’s right, but it’s still not an excuse.
I can’t help thinking of the scars I saw on his waist. I’m not even sure why, other than something feels off about them. Or the way he reacted when I asked about them.
“Maybe that’s true,” I admit, turning and staring out the window. “But it doesn’t make it right—what I did.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Loki told me the other day, after we left the police station, that if I keep acting like a little shit, he might lose guardianship of Nik. And, while he didn’t flat-out say it, he pretty much implied that it’s my fault because I’m bringing so much trouble into the family right now.”
“I’m sure it’s not your—”
“No, it is,” I cut him off, looking at him. “Social Services is only keeping an eye on him because I keep making dumb decisions that lead to the cops getting called.”
“That’s not completely true,” he insists. “Anna was arrested.”
“Yeah, but that was a while ago. She cleaned up her act for the most part. And she has more of an excuse for getting in trouble. I mean, she was in the car with them, so …” I swallow forcefully as my voice cracks. “But, yeah, anyway, I know all about messing up and doing questionable stuff, so I’m not going to judge you for living with a couple of what I’m sure your mother would call lowlifes.”
“Yeah.” He raises his brows. “She definitely called them that once or twice.”
“So, she knows you hang out with them?”
“Yep. It’s kind of what led to me getting kicked o
ut. Well, that and I kept sneaking out and staying out past curfew.”
“Look at us. We’re like two peas in a pod,” I try to joke to lighten the mood. “Or, well, two rotten peas in a smooshed pod that’s oozing mold.”
He snorts a laugh. “You’re so gross sometimes.”
“That wasn’t gross,” I inform him with a grin. “Not even close.”
“If you say so.”
“I totally do.”
He smiles, looking at me for a moment. “Thanks.”
I tilt my head to the side. “For what?”
He shrugs. “For making me feel a little bit better about joining the lowlifes.”
“You’re not a lowlife,” I insist. “You’re just figuring things out. And besides, I know you hated living with your parents, so maybe this could turn out to be a good thing.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He looks out the window, his muscles winding into knots.
I can’t help noticing how his hand drifts toward his stomach, lightly touching the fabric of his shirt there.
The fabric of the shirt that hides his scars.
I want to ask him again. So badly. But then I may just have to tell him about my own invisible scars.
And I can’t do that.
Ever.
Twenty-Two
Alexis
West wasn’t lying about the place being sketchy. The house, if you can even call it that, is a rundown, single-story structure located near the railroad tracks. Half the windows are boarded up, the porch is collapsing, and the yard is filled with broken-down, rusty cars.
“Who owns all these cars?” I ask as he pulls up in front of the house and parks in the gravel driveway beside the house.
“I’m not sure. I think the owner of the house.” He shuts off the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt.
I glance around at the other older houses nearby, highly aware that we’re on the side of town that has a higher crime rate. “Aren’t you worried about someone stealing your car?”
He nods as he takes the keys out. “I am. But, for now, I don’t have any place to park it.”
“You could always park it at my house.”
Signed with a Kiss: A Novel (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 1) Page 18