Ugly Truths: A Contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 2)

by Blake Blessing

  He turned me so my back was against the wall and his hands clamped on my shoulders. If I didn’t know better, I’d have believed he was trying to keep me standing upright. But I wasn’t the one making a fool of myself and spitting out ridiculously inappropriate things.

  Sweat beaded around the edges of his hairlines as he pursed his lips. The sight nearly pulled a laugh from me. He seemed to be afraid of what he would say next, keeping his mouth shut for good measure.

  “I am a virgin.” I blurted and winced. “So, you had that right. But I’m a big girl. I don’t need you hovering over me, protecting my blushing virgin eyes from the sight of a boob. I’ve seen one before.”

  His face slackened and then he was the one rolling with laughter. His head fell in the crook of my neck, his hands sliding down my arms as his whole body rocked. “I never know what you’re going to say. That was amazing.” He laughed for another solid twenty seconds before he lifted his head.

  With eyes bright with mirth and a crooked grin to make even the baddest of bad boys weep from envy, he bent closer until his forehead almost touched mine. Almost.

  “So, you know what boobs look like?”

  “Really? That’s what you’re stuck on?” I snapped. Damn, I needed to get out of this closet and go find the others. The temperature ratcheted up with every second that went by.

  “We could talk about you being a virgin,” he crooned.

  “No. Unless you want to talk about your pierced dick.” Now all kinds of thoughts were roaming through my head. Mainly his pierced dick. I flick my gaze down toward his crotch and back up. That was an accident. I totally hadn’t meant to search out his man wand.

  His fingers left my wrists and gently clutched my waist beneath my jacket. The molten heat from his hands seared past my shirt. I’d be surprised if there weren’t hand shaped scorch marks marring my top.

  He shuffled a step closer and the earthy smell of his cologne teased my nose. My eyes may have fluttered shut for the briefest of seconds.

  “Astrid. You aren’t thinking about my cock, are you?” He moved his head to the side of my neck, his hot breath whispering over my chilled skin. Funny how I could literally be melting into a puddle while goosebumps reigned supreme over the back of my neck and down my arms.

  “I was just trying to point out that you obviously lacked virginity, since you wanted to remind me that I have an abundance of it.” Abundance of virginity? Lame. “You’re making this very awkward for me.”

  His crooked grin morphed into a full beam. “Have you even had your first kiss yet?” His voice was still low and melodic, doing crazy things to my insides.

  “Yes. But it didn’t count.” I whispered, mesmerized by the green flecks nearly dominating the brown in his eyes.

  “And why is that?” Genuine curiosity entered his eyes. One thumb stroked my side, lulling me into a false sense of security.

  “Because it was a joke. It wasn’t real. The guy was playing on the crowd and didn’t think anything of it.” I looked away from the intense eyes that seemed to see right inside me. Please don’t ask me who it was. I won’t tell.

  “That’s a shame.” And he really did sound offended on my behalf.

  The electric moment we were sharing evaporated, and Thatcher put several feet between us. Caught off guard from the sudden change, I swayed forward before I caught myself. Thatcher took a step toward me, but when I found my balance he stayed where he was. What was he doing? Was this all some sick game to him? I swear to God; these boys were going to send me to an early grave from sexual frustration.

  “What are you doing?” He looked suspicious, standing all alone on the other side of the supply closet.

  “Letting you cool down a minute before I take you out of here. Your face is flushed and anyone seeing you would believe we’d come in here for nefarious purposes.” He slowly moved forward and edged around me, careful not to touch any part of my body. His hand landed on the doorknob beside me, and he stilled. Looking into my eyes, he delivered a deliciously destructive word bomb that decimated my brain. “You’re right, you’ve never been kissed. Not properly. And maybe, Astrid, I can help you out with that. But not now. Not in a dingy supply closet in the back of a dirty club. But… someday.” He pulled the door open, pushing me through and leading me back to the door that would enter the main part of the club by soft fingers on my forearm.

  Wow. That was sizzling hot. So hot, I followed behind him with a goofy grin lighting my face. If anyone tried to talk to me, I’d have smiled right through them, not able to string coherent words together. That was a good thing. If Thatcher asked me a question, I’d spout some nonsense about piercings and lack of experience. Definitely not anything that would make him want to follow through on his promise. And I did want him to kiss me. Didn’t I?

  But Thatcher wasn’t the only guy to fill my thoughts lately. I couldn’t admit it out loud, but I could admit it to myself. I was starting to have pesky feelings for more than one guy. What did that mean, were they each pursuing me in their own way? Would I have to choose one over the others?

  Would I lose all my friends in the process?

  We found an empty table close to the bar, where Thatcher settled me on the stool, before heading to get us drinks. While he was gone, I slipped my phone out and took a few shots of the crowd. The last time I was here was barely over a month ago, and so much had changed. I essentially went from invisible peeping Tom, to slightly less visible friend to a Hodge podge of guys I somehow collected. I loved having actual friendships, but at the same time, I missed being on my own, taking pictures when no one knew I was watching.

  It was nearing the end of the opening act but neither Rhys or Jonah had shown up.

  Glancing around, I swept the full room, catching sight of Thatcher making his way through the crowd with two drinks held above his head, and I’d almost turned away before I noticed Rhys. Like the hockey god he was, he was on some kind of platform in the back corner, surrounded by a small crowd of his own. I recognized several people from Silver Ranch, but there were still many I didn’t know. And they were all vying for his attention.

  The ironic thing was, he didn’t appear to care they were there, or even notice. Two girls sidled up on either side of him, rubbing gawdy, manicured hands over his chest. They were too far away to really see their nails, but something about their appearance screamed desperate housewife in training.

  I pulled the camera bag over my head and attached the small range lens. Thatcher was just getting to our table when I lifted my baby to my eyes and zoomed in. After adjusting the focus, I captured the utter disinterest in Rhys’ face as he politely, but firmly removed the hands from his body. As he walked away, I snapped a few more, really focusing on the girls. Their expressions were offended and dejected while looking like their one shot at happiness was trotting away on a one-way train, never to come back.

  Rhys might not like these shots when I showed him. And I would show him, because he was my friend, and I didn’t want that type of secret between us. But I didn’t believe he could deny the beauty in the rejection. These pictures were a life lesson that many people would experience in their lives over and over and over again. To have something they desperately wanted within their grasp, maybe even touching distance, only to have it slip away no matter how they begged, bartered and prayed for it to stay. And it didn’t apply solely to a person. It could be the promotion they busted their asses to get, the ideal marriage they clung to, or even… the style of life they were determined to live. No, there was so much ugly truth in these shots. Because few rarely got what they wanted. And even if they did, it usually wasn’t what they thought it would be.

  “What are you taking pictures of?” Thatcher peered over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of what held my attention.

  “Rhys and his devoted following.” I flipped through the images slowly so he could see each of them.

  “Damn, Astrid. You really have a way of capturing emotion. And I’m not saying that to
make you feel good. You really do have a gift when you let it out.” He whistled under his breath.

  “What do you mean, let it out?” My brows scrunched up. Anytime they left me alone, I was working on my craft. Especially during art with Thatcher. I just didn’t have that much alone time anymore. It wasn’t like the twitch bitches were still out to get me. They’d left me gloriously alone since the reckoning, thank God. But the guys didn’t put too much stock in it, apparently.

  “No, there’s a difference between school art and Astrid art. What you work on for Mr. Music most of the time is fluff. It’s good, but it’s nowhere near when you’re left to your own devices. If you want to make a career out of it, you need to get in the zone like you just were. However that works for you, you need to recreate it. That’s when you make beautiful pieces that speak to the soul and tear out the heart. When you try to please others, that’s when you lose the spark.”

  I tipped my head back, my rapid thoughts and wandering emotions tearing into two different directions. On one hand, his words created such warmth inside me that I could have melted into an Astrid puddle right on the spot. Then on the other, I was miffed he thought I didn’t give every project my all. I did. Only there was a disconnect when it wasn’t what I wanted to be shooting.

  Maybe that was the difference. Assignment versus interest? Food for thought at another time.

  “Wipe that scowl off your face. You’re talented. You know that. But I won’t be the person that helps you build your career on false compliments. If you count on me for nothing else, know I’ll always tell you the truth.” His face was so solemn and his words so serious, the irritation leaked right out of me.

  Thatcher was that person. He was my mentor and friend, and the one that lectured me constantly about what I could be. Just never this direct.

  “I know that. Thank you.” I squeezed his hand that was on the table in front of me, then dropped my hands to my lap, leaving the camera on the table. “What did you get me?”

  That perked his spirits right up. “Well, I got you your first alcoholic drink.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a very uncharacteristic move for Thatcher.

  “How do you know I’ve never had alcohol?” I replied haughtily.

  He merely lifted a black brow. “Astrid. Do we need to rehash the closet?”

  “What about a closet?” Rhys slid onto the stool across from me.

  Damn, no. I didn’t want to rehash the closet anytime, especially when Rhys or one of the others were present.

  “Not really the closet. Just a specific conversation. How’s it going man?” Thatcher reached out a hand to Rhys, who reciprocated the sacred greeting of the brotherhood.

  “Have you heard from Jonah tonight?” For the last few weeks Jonah had been distant. Distant from the friendship we had started to build, anyway. He’d agreed to come to the concert tonight with us, the first time we would all be together since the portfolio. I saw them all on their own at various times, but when we were together, it was special.

  My stomach tingled at the prospect of having them all in the same place. And if anyone had talked to Jonah, it was probably Rhys. Beck had some kind of weird grudge against Jonah, and Thatcher wasn’t around that often. The one common denominator Jonah had with Rhys was school. They often coordinated who was walking me where and when, annoyingly.

  “Only at school yesterday.” Rhys picked up the drink Thatcher placed in front of me and took a sip. He made a sour face. “What is this crap? That’s not a virgin drink.” He speared Thatcher with a death glare to rival Darth Vader. I mean, if you could have seen his glare, I bet it would have been fierce.

  Thatcher rolled his eyes. “Like you don’t drink at parties. And probably have for a few years now. Astrid is halfway into her senior year, man. She needs to live a little, and she’s with us, where she’s safe and looked after. We can’t keep her innocent forever. And isn’t it better that we’re around, than her experimenting without us.”

  Rhys grumbled his displeasure but didn’t say anything to dispute Thatcher’s words. I huffed and incorporated my own glare. At first it seemed like he was acknowledging my rightful adultness. Then he went on to make it seem like I was a kid sister that needed their watchful eye to grow up. And come on. Experimenting without them? Really? I had no other friends outside of these guys and Ryan. Although, I could probably get Ryan to take me to a gay club. I perked right up as the possibilities raced around my mind. Maybe I could find enough anonymity in the crowd to enjoy myself.

  “Anyway, Jonah said he might be a few minutes late, but he’d be here. He said he had something to do.” Rhys shrugged.

  We fell into an easy silence as we watched the opener. It was a different band from last time, lulling us with sorrowful tunes of unrequited love and the sharp clarity brought by the pain. As nonchalant as I could, I pulled the drink toward me and pressed my lips to the cool glass. How odd that Rhys had made a sour face. If anything, it was too sweet. Was this what alcohol tasted like? I couldn’t even taste it. Where my glass was full of frothy pink liquid, Thatcher’s was filled to the brim with dark amber liquid. A thin film of froth neatly sat on top, unlike my crazy bubbles.

  Thatcher smirked as I tried his drink, and outright laughed when I gagged.

  “Gross. What is that? Cat pee?” I gulped a good bit of my fruity drink to clear the rancid taste from my mouth.

  “It’s beer, Astrid. Nothing crazy. Glad I didn’t get you a beer?” His eyes sparkled with gentle amusement, and even Rhys couldn’t hold his own laughter in.

  “I’m going to grab my own beer before Beck comes out.” Rhys rapped two knuckles on the table before he left.

  “Wait. How is he going to get a beer? He’s eighteen like I am.” I twisted in my seat to watch him approach the bar.

  “Well, he either has a fake ID, or they serve him because he’s the beloved hockey star.” Thatcher said like I was a bit dense. I guess in things like this, I was.

  “Huh.”

  The opening act finished their set and after a few well-placed fist pumps they left the stage.

  “Ready to go to the front?” I was ready. Excited for the vibrations that played through my body from being that close to the stage. It was sadly absent being this far back.

  Thatcher sighed. “If you really want to be up there, I guess.”

  I laughed. “All right, grumpy bear. As soon as Rhys is back, we’ll go up front. Let me text Jonah to let him know where we’ll be.”

  “No need. I’m here.” Jonah leaned on the table next to me and smiled a small, strained twist of the lips.

  Something was going on with him, but he wouldn’t talk about it here. From the tiredness around his eyes, and the three wrinkles present in his shirt, it wasn’t good. I’d have to catch him after school. Really put my stalking skills to use.

  I smiled and lifted my drink. “Better get something if you want it. We’re going to the front of the stage to see Beck rock out with his cock out.”

  His smiled turned genuine. “Is that so? I didn’t realize this was that kind of club.”

  “Hey now. We can’t give Astrid too many firsts in one night. We’ve already given her alcohol.” Thatcher lifted his chin in greeting.

  Jonah studied the half full glass in my hands. “Hmm. Let me know if you start to feel tipsy. We’re only starting with one drink, right?”

  “We might have two. I don’t know yet, the night’s still young.” I slid a side eye at Thatcher to gauge his willingness to buy me a second drink. After all, I was at his mercy.

  “Two’s the limit. That’s still enough to have plenty of fun.” Thatcher winked.

  Jonah shook his head, then watched the workers prepare the stage. Someone was impersonating a wet blanket tonight. That was okay, I’d have enough fun for the both of us.

  Rhys came back and we shoved our way through the crowd, earning heated glares from more than a few people, to get to the front.

  Rhys stopped at the fence where one of the aging security gu
ards had perched himself quite comfortably. “We’re here with Beck. He said we could watch the show from the chairs.” He motioned to a section of old metal chairs lined up in front of the gate.

  The guard nodded and pulled the gate back so we could pass through. The heated glares became envious sneers and I smiled a little on the inside. It wasn’t nice to find satisfaction in others’ jealousy. In fact, it went against the biblical moral code to be covetous of anything. But I couldn’t help it. I was human.

  We settled with Thatcher on one side and Rhys on the other, with Jonah taking up the last seat on the other side of Rhys. As we got comfortable, Rhys shifted so his leg touched along the length of mine, sending a wave of goosebumps down my arms. Thatcher sprawled back in his chair, lining the back of mine with his arm.

  Sitting up straight and rigid, I balanced the camera bag on my lap, and held the glass in one hand. Damn, damn, damn. Colliding memories assaulted me. Rhys in the empty classroom. Thatcher in the closet. Not to mention all of Beck’s flirty behavior and teasing touches. How did this happen? These boys were pursuing me in their own unique ways. But there was no way they could be aware of the other’s intentions. The only one not in the game was Jonah.

  I peeked each way to see what the guys were doing, but there were no suspicious postures that made me believe they even realized how proprietary they were sitting with me. The only one that might have noticed, and I couldn’t be sure, was Jonah. With a slight frown that pinched his brow, he glanced at each of us then quickly looked away.

  I let out a small exhale. If he thought anything, he wasn’t voicing it. The last thing we needed at Beck’s show was drama.

  “Thatch!” A high pitch squeal sounded behind my head. Thatcher and I both turned toward each other to see who was behind us.

  Ah, I’d recognize that bleach blonde hair anywhere. Standing behind us were three girls, and one of them was blowjob girl. I wanted to hate her because of her connection to Thatcher, but she didn’t emanate any type of hostility, even when her eyes flicked to the back of my chair. In fact, all three girls completely ignored the rest of us. Hard to hate someone when you didn’t even pop up on their radar.