“Oh my God!” she squealed. “You like her.” That caused her to break out in a fit of giggles, to the point of having to wipe tears from her eyes.
“You wanna drive yourself to buy your shit?”
Her laughter died down, but she continued to smile at me. “All my life I’ve had to listen to my friends gush about how hot and smooth my older brother is, and I never believed it—the smooth part—until now. You must be more clever than I give you credit for if you fooled Brooke Kingsley into hanging out with you.” She paused, her mouth opening slightly. “Is that why you had me invite her to my party, because you knew she would show up for you?”
I sent her a smile and wink, remembering her “I’m a Little Teapot” routine. “Don’t forget that I have your little Broadway show recorded,” I warned. “Utter one word about Brooke and me, and I’ll make sure everyone on the AU campus gets a copy.”
“You’re a jerk,” she accused, a grin still on her face.
“Hey, betting was your idea. Don’t be a sore loser.”
“I only lost because the deck was stacked in your favor. Who would have thought Brooke Kingsley liked you.”
I smirked, remembering all the times Brooke had watched me. How did Dana not know what had been so obvious? I still hated that I had waited until now to approach her. Maybe I was using her leaving as an excuse in case it didn’t work out. I didn’t know what to expect when it came to Brooke. Had I known she would be cool, I would have snatched her up sooner—had more time with her.
“Aren’t you dating that trashy Michelle girl?” Dana asked, scrolling through her phone.
Snorting, I shook my head. “No, that was a casual thing.”
“Was?”
I shrugged, adjusting in my seat. “That’s how casual works, Dana.” I glanced over at her, remembering that she was my little sister. “I’m not going to talk to you about these things, but I will say that if I ever hear about you casually hooking up with any guys, I’m going to first kick your ass and then theirs. You’re better than that, got it?”
I didn’t have anything against casual hookups, but most of the time they didn’t go as smoothly as the two people first expected. One or the other ended up developing feelings and complicating the casualness of the situation. I had a feeling my mother’s relationship with Brian Lowry had started as a one-night stand and progressed until he had her eating out of his manicured hands. I would not let the same thing happen to Dana. I knew how slimy men could be when it came to getting into a girl’s pants. While I had been with my fair share of women, I had never promised them anything or lied about what I was interested in. If that makes me a dick, then so be it. Still, lying to women and getting their hopes up had never been my thing. I didn’t have anything to offer them other than a couple of fun nights.
“Don’t worry,” Dana said, intruding on my thoughts. “I don’t see the appeal of hopping from one bed to another. After what happened …” she paused, looking out the window as she sucked in a deep breath. My fingers curled around the steering wheel as she revisited the pain of her past.
“Well … just don’t worry, okay?”
I reached across the cab of my truck and squeezed her hand. “You know if you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away. It doesn’t matter if you’re two minutes away or two hours, understand?”
She nodded, smiling with thin lips. “Thanks, Dylan.”
When Dana was sixteen, she was dating a local guy for a month when he decided it was time to take their relationship further. When Dana told him she didn’t want to have sex, he hadn’t taken no for an answer. She ended up bashing him over the head with one of his baseball trophies before he was able to rape her. When I got the call to pick her up, I knew something was wrong. After getting to the guy’s house, Dana broke down into tears. Her shirt was ripped and streaks of mascara blemished her pale skin.
“What happened?” I had asked her, ready to kick someone’s ass.
“Nothing, let’s just go.” She’d tried to get me back in the truck, but I was seeing red. I told her to wait in the truck and headed into the house. Of course she hadn’t listened, following me inside, afraid I was about to commit murder. I found the guy grumbling on his bedroom floor, his jeans around his ankles, and I lost it. I don’t remember how many times I punched him. I lost count after five, zoned in on my rage. Had it not been for Dana pulling me off him, I might have spent the rest of my life behind bars for murder. Dana wouldn’t tell me what had happened until I threatened to find the prick and finish what I had started. She confessed that he tried raping her, but she had knocked him off her before he could. It didn’t ease my anger, but I was relieved that my sister wasn’t a victim of a crime so many other girls had been. Because of my little freak out, the boys in Roseville feared messing with Dana Crawford now, knowing if they crossed the line, I would be there to kick their asses.
I pulled into the parking lot of Wal-Mart—Roseville’s one department store—and cut the engine. I was proud of my little sister for going to college, but I was going to miss her like crazy. It put me on edge that she would be two hours away from me.
“What do you need to get?” I asked as we walked toward the store.
Dana pulled a list from her pocket and began rattling off stuff. “Dad gave me some money, and I saved my tips all year so I should be able to get most of the stuff.”
I snatched the list from her hands. “How much did Dad give you?” Our father worked at a factory that made parts for tractors. After fifteen years, he still only made eleven bucks an hour. Things were always tight in our household, which was why my parents ended up getting divorced. My mama couldn’t handle the struggle of the bills and debt collectors. My father was a hard man to get close to, but he had loved my mother with everything he had. In the end, it hadn’t been enough. My mama coveted the greener grass on the other side of the fence and found out it wasn’t as green as she thought.
“One hundred, but I have six hundred in my savings.”
“Yeah, but you should save that money for food, gas, and whatever else you’ll need. You keep your money, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Dana tugged a cart out of the row and shook her head at me. “No, I’m not taking your money when I know you and Jase are trying to get the loan for The Pit.”
I smiled at my worried sister, loving her all the more for it. “Don’t worry, I have the money. Just get whatever you need.” When she quirked a challenging brow, I said, “Within reason. I’m not made of money.”
She laughed when I used the phrase our dad always did. I spent the next hour and a half following her through the store as she picked out all the crap she needed. As she wandered through the aisles, my mind wandered to Brooke.
“Now let’s get one of you and James together,” my mother said. I had been posing on our front porch for photographs for the last hour. James was leaning against a tree, staring at the screen on his phone while his fingers worked against the keys. At the mention of his name, his head snapped up, and his eyes connected with mine. He had tried to put his arm around me earlier today, but I shrugged him off and told him we needed to talk after the party was over. He had nodded and kept his distance the rest of the day.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I told my mom as James walked up to porch. He shot me a disapproving look, but it was my mother who said something.
“Why ever not? Don’t you want to look back and see the day you and James left for college?” She said something to the photographer and then looked back up at me. “You’ll want these for your family album, Brooke.”
I bit my lip so hard I cringed at the pain. Everyone had congratulated James and me all day, and if I let it spill now that we were breaking up, I would get a lot of hard stares and pitying looks. My daddy would make sure to pull me aside so he could lecture me in private, but everyone would know what he was saying to me.
“What if we break up,” I said, eyeing James. His eyebrows dipped, and his eyes hardened.
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“Why do you think we’d break up, Brooke?”
“Um … because we’re only eighteen. Things change as people get older.”
James walked up to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, ignoring my comment as he posed for the next picture. Leaning down, he whispered in my ear.
“Do you really expect me to let you break up with me for that trash, Dylan Crawford?”
My lips parted in a gasp, and I twisted my head around to look at him.
“Smile,” my mother called.
Whipping around, I stared at the photographer wide-eyed. The flash blinded me for the millionth time. After five more poses and blinding flashes, we were finally done. I waited until my mother escorted the photographer back around the house before I spoke to James.
“How did you know about Dylan?”
He snorted and snaked one hand into his pocket, looking like his normal cocky self. I wondered how I stayed with him for two years without ripping my hair out.
“You’re not exactly subtle about being seen with him, Brooke. He was with you when I picked you up at his sister’s party, and someone saw you with him last night at the Bakers’ party. I just can’t believe you’re going to soil the Kingsley name by hooking up with him.”
His arrogance made me fist my hands. “I’m not ‘hooking up’ with anyone. We just hung out a few times, and he’s not the reason why I’m breaking up with you.” It was the truth; I planned on breaking up with James long before Dylan and I spoke. It’s just that now I couldn’t deal with staying with James for a second longer when it was Dylan I kept thinking about.
“So we’re breaking up, huh?” James moved toward me, and I took a step back. He closed the space between us before I could get away. His arm slinked around my waist, holding me in place. His cologne—that I used to like—nauseated my stomach. It was too pungent, and he used too much. He was a lot bigger than me, at least six-foot, and I felt suffocated in his arms instead of comforted as I did in Dylan’s.
“James, let me go.”
“What? I’m keeping up appearances,” he nodded subtly to the side. My eyes followed the direction and found my daddy pulling up in his Jaguar—late as usual. When he got out of the car, his eyes landed on James and me, smiling in approval. I frowned.
“Come here, darlin’.”
Happy for an excuse to escape James’s arms, I stepped down the stairs. My daddy removed a long manila envelope from his suit coat and handed it to me. Curious, I flipped the envelope over and peeled the tab open. I peeked inside and saw a set of keys and a card. Turning the package upside down, the keys and card dropped into my hand. Peeling the card open, I noticed it wasn’t a Congratulations card filled with heartfelt words, but a gift card to Crate & Barrel. My eyes found the amount and my curiosity peaked.
“What is this?”
“Keys to your new apartment and the funds to furnish it,” Daddy said with a smile.
It took a moment for the words to sink in. “An apartment? But I already have a dorm with Lily.”
He slung an arm around my shoulders and held me against his pudgy body. “No daughter of mine is going to live in a tiny cell for a whole year. I called the school over three weeks ago to let them know you didn’t need the dorm. Lily has been in on the surprise and will room with you at your new apartment. It’s only two miles from the school. I emailed you the address and a map.” He smiled as though amused with my speechlessness. “Now, I’m trusting you to live on your own. No crazy parties. Remember, Brooke, make good decisions even when you’re away from home.”
I nodded, my eyes going to the set of keys in my hands. “Thanks, Daddy. I will.”
He nodded, his eyes focusing on anything but my face. My father wasn’t the most compassionate person, and I could tell he was getting uncomfortable. His arm slid from my shoulders, and he adjusted his suit coat, clearing his throat.
“Okay, then,” he said, “I better make an appearance at the party.” He nodded toward James and headed around the house.
A slow smile spread across my face as I thought about Lily and me decorating our new place. We wouldn’t have to share a bathroom with fifty other girls or have restrictions on visitors, parties, or bedtime. All of a sudden I couldn’t wait to leave for school.
“So …”
I looked up to find James staring at me, his hands hiding in his pockets. He looked like some preppy guy who had just stepped out of a cheesy ‘80s flick, and I wondered how I ever found him attractive in the first place—not that he wasn’t blessed with pleasant facial features, but his whole persona was so … boring. The most exciting thing he had ever done with me was the one time he taught me how to throw a football. We had just started dating so maybe it was my excitement over having a boyfriend, but it had been fun when he playfully tackled me to the ground.
“Right, we were in the middle of a breakup,” I said, trying to contain the smile on my face. It wasn’t hard, but as soon as I thought about my father finding out, my smile thinned into a slight frown. The worst he could do was lecture me, but as a lawyer his lectures could be pretty brutal. The fact that I was leaving tomorrow lent me courage. After all, I could avoid his phone calls for a long time.
James and I stared at one another, silence filling the space between us. He was my first, and only, boyfriend. I had no clue how to breakup with someone, but I assumed my statement spoke for itself. Still, James lingered, his eyes full of … something.
“Do you really want to do this, Brooke?”
I looked down, remembering what I had done last night. It was true that James wasn’t the best boyfriend and, more times than not, had sex on the brain, but I still felt horrible about cheating on him. I allowed Dylan Crawford to touch me in ways James never had. The two boys were so drastically different. Dylan was wild, sexy, and dangerous whereas James was reserved, focused, and quiet. Dylan made me feel a thrill James just had never provoked in me. There was just something about the way Dylan looked at me, smiled at me, and touched me. It was as though he knew how my body would respond before I did. My subconscious told me that was probably because he had touched and seduced a lot of girls around town. Secrets in a small town were about as rare unicorns. Gums flapped, stories spread and somehow made their way back to my ears. I had heard countless stories about Dylan Crawford’s dalliances. A sane girl would have avoided him, guarded her virtue like the Holy Grail around him. What had I done? Openly stalked him and quivered in his arms, allowing him to spread me out on his bed. There was either something seriously screwed up in my head, or Dylan was just that good. It didn’t matter; there was no going back to a boring life with James now that I had felt so alive with Dylan. Dylan and I may not have a future together, but I also knew I shouldn’t have to settle for James. I could find someone else just as exciting—someone I loved—instead of dating someone just because my daddy liked him and people just assumed we would be together.
“I do,” I said, looking up at James. “Don’t you? There’s something missing between us. A spark … or something.” I had heard people on television reference their lack of attraction to someone in those words. I never knew what it meant until Dylan. It seemed in the short time we spent together he had taught me a lot of things.
“I guess,” James said, shrugging.
I wanted to scream at his subtly. Let it be known that James Henderson was about as deep as a puddle—another one of his annoying qualities I found fault in. One time he found my song journal, and when I told him that it helped get my emotions out, he gave me a skeptical look. “How can writing words on a page help release your emotions?” I still remember the condescending look in his eyes as though he was entertaining a child’s crazy idea. After that, we never talked about my music. Most of the time we chatted about how great of game he had played, or I would listen to his dreams of getting drafted into the NFL.
“I never thought you would be one of those, though …” James snorted, shaking his head.
“One of what?” I snapped.
“One of the women of Roseville who slum it with the other side of town,” he said, his eyes hard. “I don’t understand it, Brooke. I was very willing to take it to the next step, and you pushed me away every single time. What? Was it my lack of partners that turned you off? Do you have a fetish for man-whores? Is the possibility of catching a disease exciting?”
Okay, so maybe James wasn’t as okay with our breakup as I originally thought. Then again, maybe he was just pissed that I showed another guy the attention he so desperately wanted. I couldn’t blame him for that. Actually, I sorta hated myself for it. I should have reacted to James the way I did to Dylan. I had no clue why I didn’t, other than the fact that I was with James because it was what was expected of me. He was the star quarterback, and I was the head cheerleader. Generations of cheesy television ingrained our pairing into everyone’s head. Again, I only tried out for cheerleading because that’s what my mother wanted. She wanted me to follow in her footsteps. Maybe she was living vicariously through me, remembering a time when she was actually happy. Before she married my daddy and spent her days secretly crying.
“I wasn’t slumming it,” I said. “Dylan and I just hung out. I didn’t sleep with him.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—we hadn’t—but we hadn’t just ‘hung out’ either.
“You let him touch you, Brooke.” I panicked, thinking he knew about last night, until he spoke again. “Everyone saw him pawing all over you at his sister’s graduation party. You not only embarrassed the Kingsley name, you embarrassed me.”
My lips parted as I sucked in a sharp breath. “I embarrassed you? You were the one eye-fu— … screwing those dancers right in front of me. How do you think that made me feel? And I wasn’t the only one who saw it, James. And Dylan wasn’t pawing me. We did shots.” Dylan most certainly had been overly touchy feely, but I was too angry to agree with James’s accusations. I wasn’t surprised word had gotten back to him. Small towns and all that.
Turning Home (A Small Town Novel) Page 10