“You asshole,” she cried.
“Sorry,” Curly said, giving her a hand up. “My ankle got caught.”
She stood up, testing her leg. The knee hurt. She didn’t think she could run, but Rich had almost reached the other side. A car whizzed by, but he was well beyond it.
“Come on,” Curly said with a grin, and he was off, racing across the freeway.
“This is stupid,” Caitlin moaned, dusting herself off, although another boy had caught her as she jumped off the top of the fence.
“You’re stupid,” Pouty said, and then turned to Veronica. “You coming?” She looked right and left as if she was crossing just any street, and started to run. The boy that had helped Caitlin took off after her.
It looked like Caitlin was about ready to go, and the others would be too, and Veronica’s host couldn’t let them all beat her, not when she’d been the one to say that she’d do it. She looked at the on-coming cars. Three, their headlights just tiny pin-pricks in the distance. She had plenty of time. So she scrambled down the gutter that separated the fence from the freeway, and back up the other side, paying no attention to the foul water at the bottom. She launched herself onto the freeway, moving as quickly as her injured knee would allow.
After four or five steps, however, the knee buckled, and a gasp of pain escaped her. The pin-pricks of light looked more like flashlights, now. She tried to figure out which lanes they were in, but she couldn’t tell. She had to either turn back or get to the oleander bushes in the center divide.
Caitlin pulled ahead of her. She couldn’t turn back, and let crybaby Caitlin win.
She pushed on, limping, trying to hop on her good leg. The lights were coming so fast. She stumbled again, and crumbled to the concrete. A wave of hopelessness washed over her. Why even try? Why not just let the fucking car hit her?
No! Veronica screamed at her, but she only felt the girl’s despair.
“Come on!” A hand grabbed hers and yanked. It was Pouty. She pulled her hard, and Veronica did her best to keep up and not bring them both down to be smashed by cars. She could hear them coming, they were so close, but in a moment she fell into the oleander bushes, just as the car in the farthest lane laid on its horn. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it would come through her chest.
Chapter 4
Veronica woke up in a strange bed. The sheets were different from hers, the light was wrong, and she could hear unfamiliar sounds. Blinking and rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself up on her elbows, her heart still hammering. Then it came back to her. Daniel. This was Daniel’s bedroom. She remembered last night. Kissing on the couch. Losing herself in it. His hands—his wonderful hands. Their clothes coming off, and Daniel scooping her up despite her protests for the health of his back, and bringing her in here. And then sex. Oh! She’d forgotten it could be so good.
Veronica gathered the covers around herself and snuggled into the pillow again, her dream forgotten. She could hear Daniel moving around outside the bedroom, things clinking in the kitchen. Was he making breakfast? She couldn’t believe she’d spent the night at his place, and now he was making breakfast. How had it all happened? One minute, she was dying of embarrassment. The next she was rolling around naked in lovely, 400-thread count sheets. She peered over the edge of the bed, wondering if she had any clothes within grabbing distance. The shirt and bra had come off in the living room. Her skirt and tights lay in the hall. There were her panties, near the bedroom door. Should she do the sheet-toga thing? Or see if she could find something in his dresser?
Veronica held the sheet to her chest as she sat up and edged to the side of the bed, reaching out a toe to try and hook her panties. Her elbow knocked into the bedside table and almost sent the lamp falling. She dropped the sheet to right it and then grabbed it again to cover herself. The noise of the lamp must have alerted Daniel to her being up, though.
“Hey,” he called. “How’d you sleep? Hungry? I’m making eggs.”
“Uh, fine. Yeah, eggs sound great.”
Veronica reached out her foot again towards the panties, wishing the door opened into the bedroom so she could kick it shut.
“There’s a robe hanging inside the door of my closet if you want it,” he called.
Veronica hopped out of the bed and opened the closet. Sure enough, a long, ivory fleece robe hung here. She grabbed her undies and put them and the robe on as quickly as she could, nearly falling over struggling with the panties in her haste. She wasn’t sure why she felt so exposed. It’s not like Daniel hadn’t seen every inch of her last night. But in the morning light, things were different.
With the robe on, she felt much better. She padded out to the kitchen just as Daniel scooped scrambled eggs onto two plates. He only wore boxers, and she took a moment to drink in the sight of his toned, firm back and chest. He even had a bit of a washboard stomach. She wanted to kiss it again.
“Coffee?” he offered as he handed her a plate.
“Sure,” she said as she sat at the high counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. He poured two cups from the coffee-maker, got a carton of milk from the fridge, and found a box of sugar in the cabinet next to it. He set everything down on the counter and then grabbed spoons and forks from a drawer.
“Did I forget anything?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said, although the golden hue of his skin was distracting her, and in all honesty she wouldn’t know if he’d forgotten anything. It was such a lovely color, and his shoulders were too beautiful to think about breakfast clearly.
He sat down next to her and started shoveling eggs into his mouth.
“Hungry,” she observed as she stirred sugar and milk into her cup.
He swallowed and then grinned. “Worked up an appetite last night.”
She blushed and tried to cover it with a sip of coffee.
“That was a pretty good end to your dry spell,” he said.
Her blush deepened. “Um. Yeah.”
“Oh, come on, you have to admit. That was awesome.”
Oh jeez, she thought. Is this frat-boy Daniel? She hadn’t seen this side of him before. So proud of himself. There was something endearing about it. But it was also pretty tactless of him. So much for being such a gentleman. A troubling thought came to her: would he show this pride to his friends and co-workers? Would he brag?
Veronica didn’t want the eggs anymore. But she didn’t want to hurt his feelings or even bring up her concerns. She’d been enough of a basket case last night already. She couldn’t keep being so oversensitive. So what if he bragged? People talked about who they were dating. They let on when they had a good night. It was no big deal. Mel told her things that her boyfriend, Chris, probably wished could be kept between them. People talked to each other. It was normal.
She forced herself to eat a mouthful of eggs. They were good: just enough salt and pepper… and had he put some grated cheese in them? “These are very nice,” she said after she swallowed. “The coffee’s really good, too.”
“It’s half Kona. I get it ground at Penny’s. Half Kona, half Columbian.”
She sipped some more, and just knowing it was half-Kona seemed to bring out the rich flavor of the beans. Relax, she told herself. Enjoy the coffee. Enjoy the eggs.
“So what shall we do today?” he asked, and wiggled his eyebrows at her.
Okay, I have to get out of here, she realized. “Um, I don’t know. I mean, I need to get home, you know? Make sure the cats have food. Take Harry on a walk.”
Daniel’s smile faded a bit. “Okay,” he said. “I have the weekend free, though—I want to take advantage of that, it doesn’t happen often. You want to get together this afternoon, sometime? We could take Harry to the lake.”
She loved to take her Australian Shepherd, Harry, to Folsom Lake, and she didn’t go nearly as much as she wanted to. Maybe all she needed was a couple of hours on her own. Go home, shower, put on some comfortable clothes… feel more like herself again. “Sure,” she s
aid. “That sounds good. Pick me up around three?”
“Okay,” he said, looking relieved. Poor Daniel, she thought. Why was she being so hot and cold with him? She needed to just pick one and be consistent. Either she wasn’t into him, or she wasn’t ready for this, or whatever—or she was, and she had to stop freaking out. “You want to take a shower before I drive you back?” he asked.
“No, I’ll just get dressed,” she said, anxious to be on her way.
“Sure,” he said lightly. He finished his eggs, and waited for her to do so as well. He took her plate and rinsed it in the kitchen sink, then put it in the dishwasher. He said nothing. Veronica wondered if she’d hurt his feelings. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She didn’t want to make him unhappy at all. She just felt overwhelmed. She wished she could turn off the feeling but she wasn’t having any luck with that.
She stood up and walked over to him, taking his hand. “Hey,” she said softly.
He looked at her with small smile.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “You?”
“Yeah,” she said, frowning a little. “It’s just… it just happened a little fast. I’m… processing it.”
“Too fast?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t really have a sense of what’s normal. But after three years… I mean, I met you a month ago and I know some people go to bed after the first date even but I’m not used to that—” she stopped herself, knowing she was heading for a stream of babble that wouldn’t help the situation. “I just need to have a moment to process.”
“Sure,” he said. He bought her hand to his lips, pressing them to her fingers, then lowered it again, still holding it. “I really like you, Ronnie. I don’t want to screw any of this up. You just tell me what you need, okay?”
“How about you start by calling me Veronica,” she said, narrowing her eyes and swatting his arm.
He grinned. “Too late, the nickname has stuck.”
“Ugh!”
“You’ll always be Ronnie to me!” he called after her as she scooped up her clothes and headed for the bathroom.
Chapter 5
“He calls you what?” Melanie asked. It was Sunday morning and Veronica was at Melanie and Angie’s house for brunch. She had not spent another night with Daniel. She’d called and postponed their walk until Sunday afternoon, and he’d been very understanding.
“Ronnie. Like Ronnie Specter.”
“Who’s Ronnie Specter?” Mel asked as she flipped the two pancakes in her pan. Her curly, blonde hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and she was wearing sweats. Melanie weekend wear. She had such pretty blue eyes, though, Veronica thought she looked nice no matter what she wore. In the background Veronica could hear the shower going. Angie would be joining them shortly.
“She was a singer, in the sixties. She sang ‘Be My Baby.’”
“Oh yeah. I love that song. It’s a great song.”
“Yeah. But nobody calls me Ronnie.”
“Why not? I mean, it’s kind of a cute nickname.”
Veronica sighed. “I don’t know. I had a friend for a little while, who called me that, and I thought… it’s complicated. Let’s just say it’s attached to some bad memories.”
“Well, have you told him that?”
“No,” Veronica said. “I don’t want to. I feel like every other thing out of my mouth is something to do with some emotional crisis I’m in. I want to just relax and not make such a big deal out of everything.”
Melanie raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side. “Well, you might have to get used to him calling you Ronnie, then.”
Veronica whimpered and dropped her face into her hands.
“Hon, what else? Okay, I know you. What else is going on?” Melanie asked.
“I don’t know. I’m just so nervous and I get freaked out about everything. And… and Mellie,” she said, dropping her voice even though the shower was still going, “I spent the night on Friday.”
“WHAT?” The spatula clattered on the counter.
“Uh…”
“Veronica Barry. You spent the night?”
“Lower your voice.”
“You spent the night?” Mel whispered. “Are we talking about the same kind of spending the night that I wish Chris could do but that I won’t let him do unless Angie’s over at a friends’, which she hasn’t been in over a month?”
“Well, I didn’t sleep on the couch, if that’s what you mean,” Veronica said, noticing that the shower had stopped.
“Don’t get flippy with me, missy—”
“Flippant.”
“Whatever. I want details, and I want them NOW. It’s been three years—”
“Gee, I’d forgotten all about that.”
“—three YEARS, Veronica. I was starting to think you were going to have a commitment ceremony with your vibr—”
“Melanie!” Veronica shot a desperate glance at the kitchen door.
“She won’t be down for at least another five minutes. Spill!”
Veronica groaned.
“Spill. It.”
“Okay,” Veronica said, holding up a palm. “I didn’t plan it, alright?”
“I know you didn’t or I would have heard about it,” Melanie said. “Right?”
“Of course, Mel. Of course I’d tell you. I told you he was taking me out, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t tell me where, though.”
Veronica told her about Cafe San Paulo.
“Oh. I see. Hot Latin music, some steamy dancing…”
“Melanie…”
“Admit it, the salsa dancing was hot.”
“Well, yeah,” Veronica conceded. “And the margarita I inhaled didn’t hurt either.” Veronica explained about how awkward she’d felt, even later at the sushi restaurant.
“Did you drink a bunch of sake?” Mel asked.
“No, I had tea.”
“Tea? No wonder you were uptight, you were like, channeling Miss Marple or something.”
“I don’t know, sake tastes like warmed up perfume to me.”
“Oh my god, girl. You don’t know what you’re missing. This one time, Chris took me to Mikuni—” Melanie stopped. “No. I will not be sidetracked. Back to the date.”
“Anyway, after dinner Daniel asked if I wanted to come back to his place to see these new fish he got.”
“So in other words, you agreed to go to his apartment,” Melanie said. She put the pancakes onto the stack she was building on a serving plate and added more batter to the pan.
“Well, yeah. You already know how this story ends.”
“I want the juicy details, V, and you’d better hurry because Angie will be down any minute now.”
“I don’t know, Mel. I was all awkward geekiness, and Daniel could tell I was nervous, so he got me a glass of water and we sat and talked on his couch, and the next thing I knew we were kissing, and one thing led to another…” Veronica’s voice trailed off as she heard Angie’s steps on the stairs.
“So how was it?” Melanie asked in a whisper.
“It was great,” Veronica whispered back. “But then in the morning, I felt all weird again. I don’t know what my problem is, and it’s not fair to Daniel. He must be wondering what in the world I’m doing.”
“We’ll talk more in a bit,” Melanie whispered. Then she brought her voice up to normal volume. “There’s the sleepy head.”
Angie entered, still braiding her long, dark blonde hair so it hung down the front of her left shoulder. She had her mother’s pretty blue eyes. “Mom, it’s only ten,” she said.
“And so chipper already,” Mel countered.
Angie wrinkled her nose at her, but came and gave Veronica a hug. “Hi, teach.”
“Morning, Angie,” Veronica answered. She smiled at her.
Melanie finished making the last two pancakes and brought the plate over to the table. Everyone helped themselves, passing syrup and butter.
> “So, Ange, how’s French class?” Melanie asked.
“It’s too weird talking about it with Veronica here,” Angie said.
“Well, I hear you and your dialogue partner were chatting up a storm,” Melanie said. She spread butter on her pancakes.
“Clarissa? Yeah, I guess,” Angie said, pouring syrup.
“She’s a cheerleader, isn’t she?” Melanie asked.
“What? No. Where do you get your information, Mom?”
“From me,” Veronica said. “Mel, you’re thinking of Alicia Hall. She was Angie’s partner the week before last.” She took the butter dish from Melanie.
“You’re keeping tabs on my French partners?” Angie demanded.
“Ange, don’t be like that, I just want to know how you’re doing at your new school, and you never tell me anything—”
“So, Mel, given any thought to what we talked about on Friday?” Veronica interrupted.
“What?” Melanie said, frowning.
“You know, about how you might go back to school.”
“You? Go back to school?” Angie said, setting her fork down.
“Are you expressing disbelief, honey?” Melanie asked innocently.
“It’s just you’re… old.”
“Oh my god,” Melanie said, raising her eyes to heaven. Veronica focused on buttering her pancakes as evenly as possible. So much for that subject change.
“Why would you want to go back to school anyway?” Angie asked. “I can’t wait to get out.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it, okay? It’s not going to happen,” Melanie said.
“Why not?” Veronica asked, setting down her knife. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“Go to school for what?” Angie asked.
“Your mom was thinking about getting her degree as a paralegal,” Veronica said.
Angie took this in, then shrugged and cut a piece of pancake. “Well, you are always saying you do Denise’s job for her most of the time.”
“See?” Veronica said to Melanie.
Melanie rolled her eyes. “I just don’t think it’s practical. I need to be home for Angie.”
“Mom, I’m going to be sixteen,” Angie said, her fork frozen halfway to her plate.
The Fire and the Veil (Veronica Barry Book 2) Page 4