I began a response to Tara, but another text from her came through before I could finish.
I’ll come get you. Sam asked if I would call to see if you’d come out tonight. He said he was really looking forward to seeing you.
I chewed by bottom lip, thinking about what to reply with. Mom wouldn’t notice if I was gone. She hadn’t even noticed when I walked upstairs. Chelsea still wasn’t home, and most likely wouldn’t be until sometime in the wee hours of the morning. As long as I was back before her, I might be able to pull this thing off. In fact, tonight could actually be the perfect night to do this. I erased everything I had just typed and replaced it with:
Come get me in twenty. I’ll meet you at the park. ~ Emory
A giddy grin swept across my face as I thought about what I’d just agreed to. It widened when I glanced at her previous text mentioning Sam Preston.
Sam and I had been in English together last year. We had flirted here and there, but nothing ever came from it because he was shoved up Mallory Watts’s butt all year. When they broke up right before summer break began, due to issues unknown, the entire student female population of Baycrest High had been in a frenzy over the news.
Sam wasn’t the clichéd star quarterback who only dated all the cheerleaders; he was the poetic, artsy musician who rocked dark T-shirts and gelled hair. The type my mother would never allow me to date simply because of the way he dressed, and the only type I ever wanted.
While I generally made it a rule to never rebel against my mother, sometimes it couldn’t be helped. The guys I crushed on were part of that rebellion toward her meticulous, picture-perfect ways. To Tara, it was a simple case of me wanting most what my mother said to stay away from, but to me, I knew the desire to have a bad boy of my own ran deeper than that. I wasn’t attracted to them just because of my mother’s distaste for the grunge look, but also because people would talk. They would wonder why I was with such a punk when I could have anyone. Maybe it was twisted, but deep down, I secretly loved when people talked about me. It didn’t matter whether it was in a positive or negative way, as long as my name passed everyone’s lips, dripping with envy, I was happy.
After pulling on a tight-fitting tank top of Tara’s I had shoved in the back of my closet so my mother wouldn’t find it, I stepped out of the free-flowing skirt I’d been wearing and into a pair of short shorts. Running my fingers though my long brown hair, I pulled it into a ponytail and secured it in place. After slipping on a pair of flip-flops, I headed to my bed so I could make it appear as though I was sleeping in case my mother decided to peek in on me while I was out. Standing back, I placed my hands on my hips and eyed my work. While I wasn’t as large or lumpy looking in real life, I figured in the dark my craftsmanship might look decent enough.
Grabbing my cell and lip gloss, I crammed both into my back pockets and then flipped the light to my room off. I scrutinized the bulge beneath my blankets once more, not liking the way a section of it looked. After adjusting a few areas, I slid my bedroom window open and peeked out at the driveway below.
Mrs. Marks had pulled in behind my mother’s vehicle and was climbing out of her car when I glanced out. I watched her as she smoothed a hand over her hair, making sure everything was perfect before stepping into my mother’s presence.
Even her “friends” felt the need to make sure they looked picture-perfect before entering my mother’s eyesight.
I heard the creak of the front door opening, and my mother’s voice greeted Mrs. Marks. I carefully hopped out my window and onto the roof of the garage. I then pushed my window back down until there was an inch gap remaining at the bottom. This would be enough for me to slip my fingers in and pry it open when I came back, but not noticeable enough for my mother to spot it if she were to check on me.
Stepping to the edge of the roof, I leaned over and gripped the branch of the large maple tree beside our house. Holding on tightly, I stepped out onto the largest branch. One thing gymnastics taught me about myself was that I wasn’t afraid of heights. Lowering myself into a sitting position on the next branch, I hopped down and landed on my feet with a thud. Standing up straight, I glanced around for any signs that I had been heard. When I felt as though the coast was clear, I bolted across the backyard and into the thin woods behind it, heading straight for Calloway Park.
Endorphins bursting through my system woke me up and forced a cheesy grin onto my face. I had been good all summer, doing everything my mother wanted, hanging out with friends she approved of between the hours she allowed. I hadn’t touched so much as a single sip of alcohol or slept with anyone since before school let out. I had been good, perfect even. I was entitled to this one night of escape.
Slowing to a mere walk once I made it past the swing sets and plastic slides, I continued toward the parking lot where I knew Tara would be waiting. Light music drifted to my ears along with the sounds of people laughing. I smoothed my palms across the sides of my shorts, and forced my steps into a slower pace, one that would appear more relaxed and less rushed, because it was evident Tara was not alone.
“There she is! My own little badass ninja has successfully managed to bust out of book club hell tonight.” Tara’s words were louder than I felt comfortable with. I wondered if she’d been drinking, or if it was all for show because of who she had in the car with her.
Deciding to believe the latter, I chuckled and continued toward her while attempting to scope out who was in the vehicle. There was someone in the passenger seat, but also someone sitting in the backseat.
“Climb in the back, but come around the other side.” Tara grinned wickedly, and I knew who was in the backseat without having to see him. As I neared the car, the back door opened and my guess about the occupant was confirmed.
“Here, I can slide over. Come on in,” Sam insisted.
My heart skipped a beat as my eyes trailed over him for the first time in weeks. He was the epitome of sexy in his trademark black T-shirt and dark blue jeans. His jet-black hair was slicked wet with gel, like it always was, but he’d allowed the front to grow longer over the last few weeks. It hung down in his eyes now. The desire to brush it off his forehead as I slipped into the backseat beside him was nearly overpowering.
“Thanks.” My voice sounded breathy and soft, instantly making my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but the look on Sam’s face said he had enjoyed it. This made a shiver of excitement slip along my spine.
Closing the car door, I leaned back against the seat that was already warm from him and inhaled the scent I knew was his—spice and some sort of paint byproduct. I was glad I had decided to come out tonight. My eyes locked with Tara’s through the rearview mirror, and she winked.
“Ready?” Her excitement about me being out tonight was apparent in her eyes.
Attending high school parties wasn’t something I normally did. While I knew Tara was happy that I’d snuck out tonight, and this did fuel me, it wasn’t the only reason giddy butterflies flapped in my stomach. The knowledge that everyone at the party would be talking about me making an appearance, as well as how I had the undivided attention of Sam Preston, did.
I nodded and flashed her a wide smile. “Yeah.”
“Benson’s party has been insane tonight,” Gary Jenson said from in the passenger seat.
I smirked at Tara through the rearview mirror when I realized he was sitting beside her, but she didn’t see. Gary had been chasing Tara all year, but she never gave him the time of day. I had told her numerous times I thought they would make the cutest couple; she didn’t seem to care though.
As I listened to Gary ramble about how crazy cool the party was, I wondered what I had missed by not attending these massive blowouts with her all summer. She hadn’t mentioned that Gary and she were an item, or if she was even considering him as boyfriend material.
As though she could read my mind, Tara locked eyes with me for a split-second in the mirror. It was long enough to let me know we would be having a conversation later
about everything I’d been thinking.
“If there was any party to attend this summer, this one is it by far,” Gary added.
“Awesome.” His words had confirmed my thoughts about coming out tonight; everyone would definitely be talking about me being there.
I could hear them now: Did you see Emory Montgomery there? She never goes out. She was with Sam Preston. Do you think they’re a couple now? A wide grin swept across my face as the little butterflies of excitement zipped through me even faster.
Sam shifted beside me, causing me to become acutely aware of how close we were to one another. Each of Tara’s text messages flashed through my mind, and I licked my lips as I turned to glance at him.
“Thanks for coming out tonight.” He was staring, the brightness of his hazel eyes heightened by the florescent lights Tara sped past in an effort to get back to the party. “I really wanted a chance to hang out with you this summer.”
My heart kick-started in my chest. The dimples in his cheeks deepened as his smile widened while he held my stare.
Tiny flickers of embarrassment passed through me as I thought about what to say. I hated always having to explain why I wasn’t allowed out much. “I wanted to hang with you too. I’ve just been busy all summer. My mom, she can create a tight schedule for me sometimes—one that pretty much wipes out any free time.”
“That’s cool.” He licked his lips and my eyes zeroed in on them. The desire to lean in and kiss him crashed through me, causing my body to warm with want.
How could he rouse these kinds of feelings from me so easily just by being? Tara had been right; maybe I did need to get out over the summer and unwind from a stressful year of schoolwork and high school drama. Too bad my mother didn’t seem to comprehend this fact.
Sam’s hand moved across the seat until it found mine in my lap. He entwined his warm fingers between my cooler ones, and a sigh escaped his perfect lips as though he was finally content for the first time tonight.
I should have been thinking about his action—how I was holding his hand like I had always wanted to—but instead, all I could think about was the tiny electric sparks running along the bare skin of my thigh where his hand rested against it. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, thinking about how tonight, with Sam Preston, would be one to remember, even if this moment was all that ever happened between us.
CHAPTER THREE
COLE
When I woke Sunday morning, I knew there was one thing I had to do today even if I did nothing else—sell enough of the pills I’d gotten from Brian so I could buy myself some decent fucking headphones. The earbuds that came with my iPod were nice, but they didn’t block out background noise as much as I needed.
Rolling over in bed, I grabbed my cell off the floor and scrolled through my contacts until I found the number I wanted. Tapping on Steven Stiles name, I typed out a new text.
Got the game you’ve been searching for. Hit me up when you get a chance and I’ll bring it by.
Steven would know exactly what I was talking about. Hell, he’d probably respond to my message within the hour, all because he had been searching for something to get high on for the last few days. I’d had the pills, I always did, but I wasn’t a regular drug dealer. It wasn’t my everyday job; it was just something I did when I needed a little extra cash. I’d been swiping money from my mom for years now, but when I got low or needed to make a larger purchase—like the iPod or some damn headphones for it—I sold some of the shit I got from Brian, Julie’s old dealer.
Brian was a decent guy. I wasn’t sure what happened between him and my sister, but I used the feelings he clearly still harbored for her to my advantage when I could. He knew there was some fucked-up shit going on at my house, but I wasn’t positive how much Julie had told him while she’d dealt with him. He knew she had gotten the pills for our screwed-up mother, but that was all I knew. While I doubted Brian had learned this from my sister, he’d heard it someplace and was smart enough to believe it. This worked out for me. It meant that I had a hookup, one who would give me small amounts on credit of whatever he had, whenever the need for it came.
I dragged myself from bed and made my way to my closet for some clean clothes. Steven would let me come over to his parents’ place to chill for a bit while I sold him what I had, but I had to look decent and act the part of a standup kid while there. His parents had no clue what my last name was. To them, I was just another friend of their son’s, one who came over to hang out occasionally.
After pulling the only collared shirt I owned from the back of my closet, I went to my dresser and grabbed out a pair of clean boxers. While bending to scoop up a pair of wrinkled cargo shorts from the floor, I made a mental note to do laundry later tonight. My cell went off just as I passed through my bedroom door. I didn’t turn around to see whom the text was from because I already knew. Steven was probably stoked he would be getting what he’d been searching for—Xanax. It wasn’t anything hardcore like Oxy, but with the speed Steven blew through pills, I was sure he would be feeling the same, regardless of the pill type.
After my shower, I headed to the one place in the entire house my mother was sure to never find my stash—her bedroom. For whatever reason, it was always the one area she never searched through when she saw me high. She’d go through the cabinets and even check in the tank on the damn toilet seventy times, but she would never once search her damn bedroom. I had to be the smartest motherfucker ever for figuring this out.
Tiptoeing across the grimy, cold hardwood floors in her bedroom, I held my breath. I eyed my mother; she was tangled in the sheets and my biology teacher’s limbs while the two of them snored loudly together. Silently, I prayed neither would wake while I looted my stash. If they did, I’d spout off something lame and hightail it out of there.
Pausing directly in front of the window, I bent at the knees and glanced over my shoulder. Harvey and my mom were still zonked out. I pulled up on the corner of the loose floorboard I’d found when I was nine and lifted it out of the way before reaching in for my stash, a gallon-sized Ziploc bag filled with all kinds of shit.
I wasn’t a serious druggy—not completely addicted to anything, other than cigarettes—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy having a variety around for whenever the mood struck me.
Opening the bag, I reached inside for a smaller bag of little blue pills. I shoved the tiny baggie into my pocket as Harvey moaned and rolled over behind me. I froze, waiting to see if he had spotted me. When the rhythm of his snoring went back to its original state, I lowered the large bag back into the best stash spot in the entire house, and bolted from the room.
It was time to make some money so I could buy those fucking headphones I needed so badly.
* * * *
Steven’s house was about thirty-five minutes from mine. If I had a car, then it would have only been fifteen, but I didn’t, and Mom never let me borrow hers. I had a license, but really, what was the point if all I was allowed to drive was my fucking skateboard?
As soon as Steven’s house came into view, he did too. He was leaning into his car, cleaning out the trash inside. I knew he was really waiting for me though. He wasn’t a complete washout when it came to drugs; he was just a little higher on the ladder of addiction than I was.
Steven was the type who enjoyed getting high whenever something was available. Which also made him the type you had to watch out for, because if you gave him enough of something thinking you’d be good on dealing with him for at least a few days, he would do it all in one sitting and fucking die.
I didn’t need something like that on my conscience, so I always opted to sell him small doses at a time.
Once the wheels of my board were heard, Steven whipped around to face me. He held a plastic grocery bag in his hands that was crammed full of old McDonald’s cups and crumpled papers. I smirked at him as I rolled to a stop. Maybe showing up here was a good thing; he’d obviously needed to clean that shit out for a while. What an idiot. If
I had a car, I’d take care of it for sure.
Kicking the end of my board, I popped it up and caught the edge. It was a move I’d practiced for months when I was twelve because I thought it made me look badass. Honestly, it still felt that way every time I did it.
“Sup?” Steven closed his car door. He eyed my free hand like I’d be dumb enough to ride through town with that shit clasped in my palm.
“Not much, man.” The desire to pull out a cigarette and light it drifted through me, but I knew Steven would have a heart attack. His parents didn’t know I smoked. In fact, his parents didn’t know shit really. They thought their son was fucking perfect in every way.
Oh, if they only knew the things I did about this guy. The thought brought a ghost of a smile to my lips.
“Let’s head to my room.” Steven tied the grocery bag and started toward his house.
Glancing inside his car as I walked past, I noticed he needed about two more grocery bags to clean out the rest of the crap piled high in the backseat alone. What a fucking slob. My bedroom might be a disaster, but like I said…if I had a car, I’d keep that thing spotless.
We walked through the front door and paused in the foyer to kick off our shoes. His mom was anal about that. While his house wasn’t massive by any means, it was still a hell of a lot nicer than mine. There was a tiny foyer large enough for a coatrack, and a small table for his mom to set her purse and keys on. Then you walked into an open living room, one with a ridiculously high ceiling, which seemed like wasted space to me.
“Cole, how are you?” Mrs. Stiles was seated on the couch with an e-reader clasped in her hands. “Steven said you might be stopping by. How’s your summer been?”
Meeting her stare, I smiled. “Not too bad.”
“Are you ready for school to start?”
I shook my head. “Nah, not really.”
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