Her eyes are a lot sharper now that I’m here. But I’m not interested in getting into a pissing match. Instead, I do what Chris loves: I take his hand. The shock of it is immediate. He startles and I bite my lip. Because I know what I am feeling in this moment: Jealousy, suspicion. But most of all, desire.
Chris’s chin jerks and his entire body tenses, but he forces himself to keep facing Nicole.
“Mmm hmm,” he murmurs distractedly.
She glances at our hands and stumbles on her words, but she continues to ignore me and chatter about whatever party she went to over the weekend.
I watch Chris, smile when his Adam’s apple bobs. When I see a shimmer of sweat begin to prickle his brow, I let myself examine his chest and wonder how it would feel to touch it. I picture sliding my hands under his shirt and up his spine, imagine the heat of him.
I am tingling.
Chris’s fingers tighten on mine. I doubt he has any more idea what Nicole’s saying than I do. I study his jeans, how they fit him so perfectly. How easy it would be to slide his belt off . . .
“Oh, wow!” Chris cries. “I just remembered I have an assignment due next hour. Sorry, Nicole, I-need-to-run-to-my-locker-okay-bye.” His words run together and he’s pulling me away before he’s even finished speaking.
I turn to wave at Nic over my shoulder even as Chris hauls me away. Her mouth has dropped open at our abrupt departure and I bite down on a laugh.
Chris strides across the cement court, his shoulders crawling toward his ears. Which makes the cords of muscle at the base of his neck stand proud. Especially in that shirt . . .
He groans quietly and runs his free hand over his face. “Geez, Tully. Seriously. You’re killing me right now.” But he’s got a death grip on my hand and he’s pulling me toward the bleachers. Which is a great idea. But I have a better one.
“This way,” I whisper as we round the back of the gym, urging him between the bushes and trees along the edge of the athletic field. There’s an old back entrance to the gym that never gets used. Stomach tingling, I take the lead, pulling him behind me, not looking at him, letting him feel me and what I want.
I’m rewarded with a shaky exhale and, “Tully, where are we going?”
We’ve just rounded the third corner. He sees the darkened alcove, the old door, the lintel dusty with misuse. I swear I feel his jab of excitement.
I turn. “No one comes here anymore.”
But he’s already got me, his free hand sliding up my back as he walks me backward into the wall. His lips crash down on mine, open for me. He’s got one knee between mine, his entire body pressed against me from thigh to chest. He pulls my hand up to his neck and presses my fingers against his skin there, groaning when I deepen the kiss and pull him closer.
I want him with a burn that borders on desperation. He can’t look at Nicole, or anyone else. He has to want me.
The shock of that thought makes me pull my hands away from his neck. But Chris catches them in his, twines our fingers. His breath roars in and out, but he’s stopped kissing me and is staring into my eyes.
“What happened?” he asks. “What made you scared? Was it me?” He’s searching my face. His expression, his obvious concern even in the middle of this is shocking to me.
He’s so controlled.
I can’t put into words what I fear, though I can see it in my head, know it’s coming.
“There. That,” he says. “What is that?” He slides his fingers into my hair, his palm under my ear. His thumb is a whisper on my jaw, pressing just hard enough to raise my chin. “What are you afraid of?”
“You.” It’s a rare moment of honesty.
He holds my gaze, his brows pulling together over his aquiline nose. “Why?”
I let my fingers follow the line of those furrowed brows and try to smooth them. Trace the cheekbones that give his face the planes and dips that should make him pretty, but somehow make him more of a man. I touch his lips, especially the bottom one, the full, round sweep of it and feel the swoop in my stomach when I think of it on mine.
“Just kiss me,” I whisper. And I think about doing more than kissing, let myself feel it, know he’s feeling it, too.
He groans again and lifts me up until our mouths are almost level. I curl my legs around his hips, wonder at the shudder that runs through him as he presses me back into the wall. Let my head sink back. Let him kiss my neck, pull him closer, closer, because I’d pull him into myself if I could, keep his warmth with me all the time.
He’s looser now. His kisses are deep and frantic, bordering on desperate. And I understand that. Want it, even though it scares me, too. Because he makes me desperate and I can’t afford that.
But I need him to want me so much there’s no room for anyone else. So I catch his face and kiss his lips, and pull into his chest. I tug at his shirt until it’s sliding up, free. A tiny noise escapes my throat when my fingers follow the wide, firm planes of muscle there.
My heart races, thumps, knocking on my ribs. And his answers. I can feel his pulse rise even higher. He hesitates, then his fingers slide under the hem of my top. He holds my waist, skin to skin, and I almost cry out with the heat of it.
I want his hands on me.
I want him.
I yank his shirt up with vigorous tugs, higher so there’s more of him I can touch. I find the flap of his belt and pull—
“Tully.”
The bottom drops out. In a split second, I go from encircled in Chris’s arms and heated by his kiss, to stumbling, cold, alone.
He’s gone.
I blink and lose my balance, wobble back a step.
Chris has dropped me back to earth without ceremony, then whirled away from me. He’s kneeling, curled forward, head in his hands. He’s muttering, and if I didn’t know better I’d say it was a string of swearwords. I have to put a palm to the wall behind me to find my balance. When I do, he’s still hunched over, still panting.
“What happened?” I ask breathlessly. I put a hand to his shoulder, but in a blink he’s upright, pacing away from me, hands clawed into his hair.
“Chris?”
He turns back to me, but paces past, back and forth. When he finally stops, he’s left several feet between us. He takes a huge breath and blows it out.
“Chris—”
“I’m not going to do this, Tully. I told you that,” he says firmly. Like he’s telling himself as much as me.
“What?”
“I’m not going to be one more jerk who uses you because you’re hot.” His voice doesn’t waver. He’s serious.
I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry. “You aren’t using me if I . . . if I want it, too,” I say, feeling suddenly very unsure of him.
“I’m not going to . . . to screw you behind the gym because it would be fun. If we ever do this it’s because we’re together. For real. And you’re sure of me.”
I frown. “If I wasn’t sure of you I wouldn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he snaps. “You don’t have to do this, okay? I’m here whether we do this or not.”
I know I should be grateful. I know he’s saying something nice. But all I hear is no. There’s a pang in my chest because I couldn’t say no to him. If he grabbed me right now I wouldn’t balk. Not for a second.
He doesn’t truly want me if he can say no.
The thought registers with a dissonant clang in my chest. “You think I’m not good enough for you.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud. But I feel it, curl around its truth. And even though I know I’m right, it hurts.
“What?” Chris’s voice has shot up an octave. “No! That’s not it at all,” he sputters. “That’s the opposite of what I’m saying.”
I hug my arms around my middle. “Are you scared of sex, or something? Is that why you’re saying no?”
His b
row gets those lines again. “No,” he says, emphatic. “Trust me. That’s not the problem here.”
“Then what is?”
In the world’s worst timing, the bell jangles in the distance, putting a wall between us. I would happily stay here with him for the rest of the day. But I see him tense, look to the side, to the path we took to get here.
Whatever. “Just go.”
His eyes come back to me. He folds his arms. “We need to talk about this later.”
I wave a hand dismissively, brush past him, and head around the side of the building, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. He catches my elbow as I pass. I can’t turn because he’ll see how much I like it when he touches me, and right now I can’t give him that power. Not when he’s still strong enough to say no to me.
“Tully, this isn’t what you think,” he says quietly, so close I can feel the warmth of his chest against my back. I pull my arm out of his grip. Keep walking. He sighs behind me, but doesn’t say anything else. A second later I hear his footfalls on the dirt. We round the next corner and the athletic field opens up before us. The basketball court is deserted. There are a few students disappearing around the corner of the gym, on their way to one of the academic buildings.
He’s right to keep his distance. I know that. I shouldn’t be mad at him. But I am.
We walk the entire way to woodwork without speaking. It isn’t until we’re crossing the courtyard and the warning bell shrills over our heads that he says my name again. But I keep walking. I can’t stand his look of resolve. The one that says he’s learning the truth.
Which means it’s only a matter of time until he stops saying no to sex, and starts saying good-bye.
Chapter 20
I don’t know if Chris waited to give me a ride after school, because I ducked out the back way and walked home. After quickly changing my clothes, I left again and headed for Nigel.
I don’t care. He can go screw Nicole for all I care, I tell myself as I walk, swearing to the beat of my own footsteps, but it doesn’t work.
I do care. Too much. That’s the problem.
When I reach the clearing the sun’s gone behind a cloud. Nigel looks drab and dirty. I stand in front of the lean-to for a long time, examining him and wondering if I’ll ever get him finished. If I’ll ever hear his motor turn over and have him rumble and creak me all the way to the highway and away.
Instead of working on the cabinetry like I should, I find myself sitting on the cracked, vinyl driver’s seat, holding on to the steering wheel, the way I used to when I was fifteen and sure I would die if I didn’t get out of this town.
When I first hear the engine, I think it’s my imagination, taking me away. But as it grows louder, the familiar rumble tells me Chris has arrived. I run a hand through my hair, ignoring the tangles, and push out of Nigel, onto the grass, folding my arms over my chest.
Chris’s Jeep goes quiet. He’s watching me through the driver’s side window. He gets out slowly, but walks over to me with purpose. He stops a couple of feet away.
“You hurt me today,” he says in a low voice.
My mouth drops open. “It hurt your feelings that I wanted to sleep with you?”
He shakes his head. “That wasn’t about wanting me. You were jealous. Because I was talking to Nicole.”
I balk. He’s mostly right, though I do want him with a burn that keeps me up at night. But there’s no way I am admitting that, not when I’m sure he’s come here to break up with me. I push out my chin and wait.
“You don’t trust me,” he says, and there’s a catch in his voice. For the first time I see the cloud of self-doubt in his eyes and it kills me that I’m the one who put it there.
I clear my throat. “Of course I trust you.” It comes out hushed.
“No, you don’t. Tully, I know you’ve been used and . . . and I don’t know what, exactly, but I can feel that in you when I hold your hand . . .” He trails off, runs a hand over his face. “But being jealous like that? I thought you knew I’d never . . . I mean, I’d never want to . . .”
“Spit it out, Chris.”
“I don’t want to sleep with Nicole.”
I shrug, even though it’s what I’ve been desperate to hear.
He scowls. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone else,” he says. “Except you.”
I roll my eyes.
“Stop doing that!”
“Doing what?”
“Stop acting like you don’t care. I know you care, Tully. I can feel it when I touch you!”
I falter. Curse this wretched thing inside me. Curse it for making me vulnerable at a time when I need to be strong.
“Will you get this over with, please?” I say through my teeth. “I don’t need to hear all your thoughts on my screwed-up life. Break up with me and leave.”
His brows knit. “I’m not here to break up with you.”
“You’re not?”
“No.” He takes a step closer and I can see the golden flecks in his irises. “Tully . . .”
“What?” My voice shakes and I have to pray that he’s as honest as I think he is, because my hope is soaring and if he dumps me now, I’m pretty sure the fall will break me.
“Relax,” he whispers. “Trust me. I’ll never—”
But I never get to figure out what he’ll never do because I reach to push him back in the same moment he reaches to pull me close. In the split second our fingers connect, I am sucked out of myself and into him.
So sick. So dirty. So obvious to everyone else that I’m nothing but a cheap piece of—
With a small cry, I throw myself back, out of his grip. Chris jolts like I slapped him. Then we are left standing feet apart, chests heaving. His face is pained and I’m suddenly certain he’s beginning to see the difference between who I truly am versus what he thinks he sees. It cracks my heart in half because he should know the truth. The longer he holds on to those lies, the sharper the fall will be.
I open my mouth to tell him he should leave, but he has the strangest expression on his face. Then suddenly he’s all movement and hurry, closing the space between us. “No,” he mutters, hushed. Then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. Really kisses me.
I am startled at first. But his hands are so gentle on my skin, and his lips so insistent. Instead of pushing him away like I should, I fist his shirt and sink into it. He slides one of his hands around to cup the back of my head, tilts his head to deepen the kiss.
“You’re wrong. That’s wrong,” he whispers fiercely against my lips. His other hand moves down to rest at my lower back and pull me closer. “Don’t give up on me, Tully.”
I pull back. “You don’t see me.”
He shakes his head. “I see more than you see yourself.”
He kisses me again, a tender meeting of the lips, then steps back, letting me go. I feel suddenly cold. Bereft. Then he smiles and it’s like the sun’s come out.
There’s a strange light in his face as clears his throat. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you and I suppose now is as good a time as any.” He hesitates for a moment. “Tully, can I call you my girlfriend?”
I have to stifle a laugh. “Are you serious?” Are we in junior high?
“Deadly,” he says. “You always think I’m on the verge of leaving. You’re afraid. I want you to know I’m sticking around. And I want to know you’re not running, too.”
“You think calling me your girlfriend means I can’t walk away?”
His face tightens. “No. But, it means I won’t.”
Something inside me shatters.
He clears his throat. “I need you to give me time to show you I’m in this. And . . . and I think you won’t say yes unless you’re willing to give me a chance.”
A trickle of fear, twisted up with the tiniest thread
of hope, shivers down my spine. I should say no. He has no idea what he’s getting in to. How quickly I could drop out of his life—how quickly he might want me to. But the warmth from that kiss is making me weak.
I let my smile grow slowly, watch his answering smile grow in return.
“Yes?” he asks.
I nod. Gulp back the words I really mean. “I kind of owe you after getting you sent to the principal’s office,” I say, teasing. “Consider it a charity relationship.”
He growls and steps back in to wrap me in his arms. I’m laughing and it’s stupid because there’s no way this can work. But as he kisses me like I’ve made him happy, all I can think about is his hands on me, and his lips on mine, and the joy on his face when I said yes. Like he’d won a prize. Like I’m something worth having.
That’s impossible, of course. But, damn. It feels good.
Until he reaches for my hand.
I frown, take a step back, and fold my arms. “What are you—?”
“I want to know you’re actually okay. That you’re . . . here.” He reaches for me, slowly, so I see it coming.
It’s odd. In the split second before he takes my hand, my instinct is to pull away. It’s become such reflex that I have to fight the urge to recoil as Chris twines his fingers into mine. We both tense, then relax. He stares at our hands as my freakish body pours into him all the confliction I’m feeling over letting myself become his girlfriend officially. And all the frustration I feel that I can’t strip him naked and yank him into my bed.
Chris closes in, pulls me in, buries his hands in my hair and kisses me like I might disappear. Like . . . like I matter.
I resist because I feel my walls begin to crumble. I feel him striding in, bringing the sun with him. For a moment, I melt into him. But then I gather my courage and push him away. He pulls back, but only far enough to touch my face, his fingertips dragging softly on my scalp and my neck until the goosebumps make me shudder.
“I want you safe,” he says, blazing with intensity.
“Then stay with me tonight.”
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