Breakaway

by Lindsay Paige

  I don’t know how long we are kissing, but when we finally pull apart, my lips are swollen, and I’m not cold anymore. I notice that Levi is breathing as heavy as I am.

  “Was that in your plan tonight?” I grin at him breaking the silence.

  “It was tentatively part of my plan.” We both laugh. “Come on.” We head out of the rink. Levi locks up, and we go back to his SUV. He is holding my hand the whole time, and it feels like my hand is meant to be there. We don’t really say anything as he drives back to my car.

  “The date’s over?” I’m trying not to sound sad when I realize we are at my car, but I am.

  “Not over, just to be continued.” He walks me over to my car and gives me a sweet kiss. It still makes my knees weak, but it’s shorter than our last kiss.

  “You need to give me your cell number so we can start sexting each other.” He gives me one of his crooked grins.

  “Oh. Eem. Gee.” I roll my eyes, because the cocky Levi is making his appearance again.

  “Yes, I can make you say that too.” I glare at him. I know that I should just give it to him, and I do. My phone beeps and I look down at the display to see a text message from Levi that says:Nice Ass.

  “What just happened to sweet Levi that I met tonight?”

  “He’s still there, but I need to give you something to think about tonight.” He gives me one more kiss. “Text me when you get home.”

  I nod and get into my car. On my drive home, I’m thinking about Levi’s lips and everything he told me. He is nothing like my brother described. Maybe I’ve been wrong all along.

  When I get to my apartment, I text Levi. His reply is to keep Wednesday night open for the continuation of our date, and I can’t wait.

  Chapter Five

  Levi

  Tonight definitely didn’t turn out at all like I thought it would. It wasn’t but a few hours ago that my plans were to take Sunny out and then sleep with her afterwards. The Sunny Plan was shot all to hell when Presley ran out of the theater. Sunny was so pissed too. It doesn’t matter though. She will get over it. Presley wasn’t exactly subtle about it so it was hard to miss her quick exit. And then she actually showed up at the diner with those killer boots and an outfit that hugged her in all the right places. Things went down even weirder after that.

  I didn’t plan to tell her anything about my mom, but she brought it up after I asked about her parents. I guess I should have thought that one through. Let’s not forget that I was actually honest with her and part of me felt like an idiot for it, but a larger, happier part of me was glad I did. I earned myself one hell of a kiss.

  The guys are already in their rooms when I walk into our apartment. It’s late, but I’m not tired at all. My mind is already in overdrive for tomorrow when my date with Presley will resume. A date. I’m tempted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Who knew that McCarthy would ever have a sister, much less a sister like Presley? I haven’t exactly given up on my original plan, but that’s not my main focus anymore. I want to find out what makes Smarty tick, what drives her insane, and what’s underneath that feisty exterior she shows everyone.

  It’s not that I’m dying to find out. Well, not really. I’m curious, though and curiosity drives me to do crazy things sometimes. Like tackle the girl that is Presley McCarthy.

  It’s in the morning that I realize my mistake. We’ve got a game tonight, and it’s an hour away. I have two options. Text her and move it to another night or tell her that it’ll be late again. I decide that I’ll let her choose and quickly send a message about the dilemma. It’s not until after my second class, which ends at noon, that she replies. Looks like it’ll be another late night for me, and now I’m wondering where we’ll go, and I replay last night’s conversations for any clues.

  She didn’t give much away about her interests so maybe I’ll pick something from mine and show her. Hockey takes up a lot of my time, so it’s been awhile since I’ve done something else. The thought brings bowling to mind and then the thoughts of watching Presley bowl. I shake my head to focus through the rest of the day.

  The game is well matched and Nichols is still stewing on the bench while Jere plays well on the ice. Coach likes the switch because of the simple fact that Jere is becoming a great asset for our team. The elation, a high so sweet and intoxicating, floods my senses not only because I scored, but because I love the game. Being on the ice just skating alerts me, but it’s the game that I love the most. The energy of the players mixing with the crowd...there’s nothing else like it. Nothing that even slightly compares to this.

  Wins are always sweet and tonight is no different. My body is buzzing still, even after we arrived back on campus, I drove to the apartment, showered, changed, and now I’m parked in front of Presley’s apartment building. She doesn’t allow me to get farther than the front of my car before she’s halfway here. I open the door for her after a quick hello and close the door behind her.

  “How was the game?” she asks when I’m back on the road.

  I cut my eyes over at her and see that her thumbs are making circles around themselves. She’s nervous, an emotion I’ve never seen on her in the short time that I’ve known her. “It was good. We won,” I add and she nods.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Bowling. There’s a place on this side of Roxboro that I like to go to and I figured we’d go there. That okay?”

  Those clear brown eyes meet mine when I glance her way. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

  I reach over and take her hand, an action that didn’t take much thought. “You know, I would say that I don’t bite,” I look over seeing that I have her attention, “but I do.” I grin and shrug as if it’s no big deal.

  She takes her free hand and lightly runs the tip of her nails over my hand. “I would say that I don’t scratch,” she lifts and drops her shoulders, “but I do.”

  My head whips over to look at her, and she cracks up laughing. I can just imagine a naked Presley underneath me with her fingers digging and breaking my skin as she claws her way down my back.

  I clear my throat and say, “You better not be kidding.”

  All she does is smirk as we have arrived at the bowling alley. I open the doors along the way, and once we have our shoes, she enters our names into the screen while I change shoes.

  “What size ball do you need?” I ask once my shoes are on and she’s in the process of putting on hers.

  “A 9 is too small, but an 11 is too heavy, so I need a perfect 10.” Presley shifts her attention to me with a small smile. I chuckle and leave to grab the balls. Her name is first so when I hand her an orange ball, she goes to bowl. I hold back a laugh as I watch her. She’s standing a couple of feet back to give her enough room, and she’s switching pressure from one leg to the other.

  “Any time tonight would be great,” I say behind her with a laugh.

  She turns around and props the ball on her hip with her fingers still inside and her other arm holding it in place. “We have a problem,” Presley states matter of factly.

  Uh oh. I close the distance between us and rest my hands on her shoulders, feeling the urge to touch her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need the gutter rails up.”

  My laugh sounds more like a snort because I wasn’t expecting that. “That bad, huh?” I ask as I walk over to the monitor to call someone over.

  “If they aren’t up, I have to do the Granny Roll to hit a pin.”

  I think about her ass and say, “That’s not such a bad thing.” A short, bald man comes up and asks what we need assistance with. “She can’t bowl worth a lick, so we need the rails up.” Presley laughs and waits patiently while the man does his job. When she’s about to bowl, I stop her. “Let’s see the Granny Roll just for fun.”

  She doesn’t glance my way or otherwise acknowledge me. Instead, she goes right up to the line and spreads her legs, lining them up with the outer two dots on the floor. Her hands fall between her legs as she bends over and good god
almighty, her red hair surrounds her face, and she smiles at me before focusing back on the task at hand. Presley’s knees bend as she hauls the ball back between her legs and then throws it forward with a thump. I step to my left to watch it roll down the lane because it seems as if she’s frozen in place with the anticipation.

  Perfectly straight, the ball rolls and knocks down every pin. I smile as Presley screams a “yes” and jumps up, swiveling to look at me.

  “Did you see that? A strike! I’ve never gotten a strike before.”

  I high five her as the pins reset and then she takes a seat.

  “Hey, Carr,” she calls from behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see a big grin on her face. “Why don’t you match my Granny Roll?”

  Chuckling and with exaggerated movement, I repeat her actions with the same display as she gave me, and I hear her laughter, such a sweet melody. My Granny Roll? It sucked. I accidentally twisted my hand at the last second, so I only knocked down three pins on the left, extending Presley’s laughing fit. I stand beside the ball return and watch her giggle, shaking my head.

  “Maybe you should show me how it’s done?”

  Her laughing sombers and she quirks an eyebrow at me, questioning my seriousness. When I walk over to her and take her hand, she looks around the busy place.

  “Don’t worry, no one is paying attention to us,” I say softly, grabbing my ball and handing it to her. I urge her in front of me and move my hands to her waist. She stops in front of the lane, and I can feel how slowly she’s breathing with my chest against her back. I place the toe of my shoe in between her heels and push her right leg over, stopping just on the inside of the dot where my foot will go. I repeat the action with her other foot and feel a thrill at opening her legs for me. Although the situation is entirely different, the effect is the same.

  My hands leave her hips and lift to her elbows, gliding down her arms until I reach her hands. My breath tickles her by the slight shiver she makes when I whisper into her ear, “I’m ready. Are you?”

  “Yeah,” she says, the air rushing from her pretty lips. As if realizing how breathy she sounds, she slightly clears her throat and says more composed this time, “Yes. Are you paying attention?” Presley looks over at me with a tad bit of a push backwards with her hips, indicating that my mind is anywhere but bowling.

  “Trust me, Smarty. I’m paying attention.”

  She smiles and forces my attention back to the game. “Okay, splay your fingers like this so you have a good grip,” she demands, moving her hands down to cup the ball better, and I follow suit. “Lean down,” she says quietly, bending as she speaks, and I lean with her. “Back,” she breathes, my arms pressing into her thighs as we take the ball backwards. “And roll,” she finishes, my hands following hers as she brings her arms forward and releases the ball.

  Standing upright, she turns on her heels to face me, the ball forgotten if we were ever thinking about it to start with. My hands reclaim her hips, and Presley squints her eyes somewhat, tilting her head, and tells me with a quick look over her shoulder, “I think you’ll need a lot more practice before you go pro, Levi.” Presley pats my shoulder and walks around me. I only hit an additional two pins. Laughing, I take a seat and watch as she bowls normally.

  Throughout the game, Presley brags about being ahead. Let’s face it. After that, I can’t think straight enough to bowl as great as usual, and she wins the game. It’s crazy because I suckedwith the rails up! We have just stepped outside, and Presley stops me.

  “I want a piggy back ride.”

  “What?” That’s a little out in left field.

  “I won and I deserve a prize. I choose that.”

  “A piggy back ride when you could have me?” I ask, bending down so she could jump onto my back.

  She laughs. “Why not this when I really already have you? Hence my ride.”

  I tighten my grip on her legs as she loosely wraps her arms around my neck before I stand upright. Part of me wants to groan in torture at the feel of her pressed against me, but I don’t.

  “What’s next?” Presley whispers into my ear.

  I swallow hard. “I figured I’d take you home, unless you’re hungry?”

  “After all that winning, I am pretty famished. I could go for a milkshake.”

  I chuckle. “Milkshake, it is.”

  Back at my car, Presley slides down my back, and it’s all I can do not to take her right then and there. With a push of a button, my doors are unlocked, and I open her door for her. We drive to an ice cream parlor a couple of blocks away, and Presley orders a large strawberry milkshake.

  “That’s so gross. Strawberry ice cream has to be the worst flavor ever created,” I tell her, scrunching my nose as she sips. We’re sitting at a small, round table, and I’ve got my cookies and cream milkshake in my hand. Presley leans forward and so do I.

  “Maybe you’ve been tasting the wrong kind.” She licks her lips deliberately, inviting me over. Presley doesn’t have to ask me twice. I inch closer to her and kiss her, parting her lips for a taste. So damn good. I pull back and smile.

  “Best strawberry ice cream ever.”

  “Told ya.” She shrugs like I didn’t affect her at all. I did, though. She runs her tongue over her lips once more before bringing the straw back to her mouth. “So...” she trails, her eyes cast downward on the lid of her cup.

  “Mm?” I ask around my straw.

  “Levi,” she begins with a glance up at me, “you’re fun and all, but I don’t know about hanging out with you, much less kissing you. Trevor would kill me if he found out that I’m here with you and then he’d probably kill you too. I just can’t hurt my brother like that.”

  Presley is ending it before it even starts? I don’t think so. I set my cup on the table and fold my arms across my chest, leaning forward to rest on the surface. “Presley,” I say sweetly. “Did you enjoy yourself?” She nods. “Were you anything but happy? Having a good time, right?” She watches me, waiting to see where I’m going with this. “I know who I am to McCarthy. I’m the enemy and that’s fine. Would he really be so upset that you were out having fun?”

  “With you, yes.”

  “Okay.” I don’t know why I’m saying this, but okay. “If that’s whatyou want.” Even though I know it isn’t. “Then okay. C’mon. Let me take you home.” I stand.

  Presley seems shocked at first, but then it disappears and she stands. We drop our cups in the trash on the way out, mine still half full. I ignore the sideways glances on the drive back. It’s quiet, even the radio is off.

  “I’m sorry,” Presley utters, sounding sad.

  “Don’t be,” I say as I park. “Nothing to be sorry for and it’s what you want, right?”

  “Yeah,” she lies.

  We’re idle for another second before she unbuckles her seatbelt. I watch as Presley leans across the console, nervous eyes searching until they flutter to a close as she kisses me. This could possibly be the last kiss I’ll ever get from Presley, and it’s going to be a good one. At first, her nerves get to her, but when I flick my tongue across her lips, the apprehension disappears. Her fingers clasp behind my neck and dig into my skin. I take her lower lip between my teeth with a graze at first, but then bite and pull.

  She moans and her nails cut a little harder. My hands, dying to touch her, reach over to grab her hips. Knowing her weight and the amount of space I have, I pick her up and over the middle to sit in my lap effortlessly. I manage to unlock our lips and nibble my way down her jaw and to her shoulder. Her warm fingers leave my neck, and my stomach clenches when I feel her touch running up my chest from underneath my shirt.

  “Levi,” she breathes with a bite on her shoulder. I find and claim her lips, devouring them.

  It all stops when there’s a rapid knocking on my window and Presley screams at the sight of her brother standing on the other side.

  “Shit!” she mutters under her breath.

  He couldn’t have had better timing
, the ass. Presley opens the door and before her feet even hit the ground, Trevor is yelling at her.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I’ve been trying to call you for hours. I’ve been sitting over here, worried to death something happened to you, because no one knew where you were and you’re withhim?”

  “Hey, calm down,” I tell him, standing beside a worried Presley.

  Quickly, he rears his arm back and punches me in the nose. “I told you to leave her alone!”

  “Trevor! Seriously?” Presley says angrily back at him. I put my hand up to my nose, and it’s bleeding. “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah. It’s no big deal.”

  Presley turns to her brother and lets him have it. “Are you out of your mind? My phone died and it’s not like I was out with a gang member or anything.”

  “I told you, Pres. I told you how he is and I’ve been telling you for years. I can’t believe you.” Trevor shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair.

  “It’s not really her fault,” I try, tasting the blood that’s falling into my mouth. I wipe away some with the back of my hand.

  “Don’t you say a word to me, Carr,” he spits.

  “Trevor, calm down. You’re being ridiculous,” Presley tries again.

  “You were the one that was about to let that piece of shit,” he jabs a finger at me, “fuck you in a car!”

  “You have got to be kidding me! You should know me better than that.”

  “How long?” Trevor asks.

  “What?”

  “How long have you been seeing him?”

  “It - It’s only the second time we’ve gone out.” Presley falters for half a second before finding her anger. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Trevor. Levi is a decent guy and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen anybody, you know that. But you know what? I wasn’t going to see him anymore.” She takes a step closer and shoves him. “Because of you!” Without a pause, she turns, takes my hand, and says, “C’mon, Levi. I’ll get you cleaned up.”