My face scrunches. “Is that not the purpose of security?”
“Don’t be cunning. Don’t you think it’s strange that you’re a senior, you hardly date, and you’re always home?”
I want to ask her how she would know but decide against it. “No. I don’t.”
“Well, I do. You have a pretty face, fit body, and great grades,” she sums me up with little to no passion. “You need an arm to hold on to.”
“Says the person who constantly reminds me I never want to have to depend on anyone and not to make her same mistake and get pregnant in high school.”
She blinks. “Birth control is your friend, daughter. It’s why you’ve been on it since sophomore year, and there is a difference between needing someone and having someone. You should never need, but you should have what would suit you well.” She pretends to be focusing on my trophy case. “I spent some time with Clara tonight.”
Clara, being Trent’s mom.
Of course.
I shake my head, knowing exactly what she was going to say. “Don’t start with this again.”
“We don’t understand why you and Trent aren’t together, is all.”
“Because we don’t like each other.”
“Relationships don’t always begin that way, Demi.”
I gape at her. “I’m pretty sure they do.”
“Well, I think it’s time you reconsider. Spend some time with him.”
I jump to my feet. “He’s dating one of my best friends!”
“And your best friend, as you call her, is a harlot of a girl who is going nowhere in life and doesn’t deserve him. She’ll end up forced to join her parents in real estate.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, if you want to gamble on the market to protect your future.”
“Her parents do well.”
“And Trent’s own an airline. Tell me how that girl is better suited for him than you?”
My mouth drops open, but nothing comes out, so I shake my head instead.
She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.
Krista is smart and gorgeous; she’s kind and respectful to her parents, wants to be a teacher and a mother, and doesn’t give a damn about the money her dad has. Does she enjoy spending it? Yes, but what seventeen – eighteen in days – wouldn’t when their father is willing to allow them to?
Not to mention, she was a virgin when she slept with Trent – not a harlot!
My mom is an asshole and has no room to talk.
She purses her lips. “I will let you go to this party, but I’m going to ask that maybe you and Trent take a little walk or try and get a few minutes alone.”
She’s a fucking nut.
“You don’t have to take it further, but this is your last year of school, and at some point, he’s going to leave her because he knows she’s not what he needs, and when that happens it needs to be you he thinks of, especially before you two end up at schools on opposite ends of the country.”
I move for my door, holding it open so she gets the hint I want her to leave. “I won’t, and you should stop saying things like this. All you’re going to do is make it awkward when I’m around him because I’ll feel guilty the entire time when I have no reason to. We’re friends, and if you want us to at least be that, then leave it alone.”
A sickening displeasure glares back at me as she walks my way, pausing before she exits. “Friendships should never trump futures.”
“Futures are supposed to be earned, mother, not gained by the choice of spouse.”
“Don’t judge me,” she bristles. “Your father was nothing when I met him.”
“Yeah, and neither were you.”
“If you’re not going to help yourself, Demi, I will help you.”
“Goodnight, Mom, or should I say goodbye, I assume you’re leaving again?”
She has the decency to look guilty, but only for a moment before her shoulders square. “I came to drop off my car, I’m riding with the girls to Wine Country. They’re waiting out front now.”
“Then you better go, and my day was good, thanks for asking.” I slam the door in her face and drop my head against it.
“Be smart and let me know when you get there,” she says, then her heels carry her back down the stairs and out the front.
I roll my eyes, put all my schoolwork away, and snag my phone. I make my way into the backyard, put on a freestyle playlist, and drop my phone onto a chair.
I take a few minutes to stretch, then when the song switches, I quickly shift to the center of the grass, facing the large windows.
Ne-Yo and Juicy J’s “She Knows” starts humming in my ears and my body begins to move as it pleases. Without thought or pressure.
Best feeling ever.
I dance through an entire playlist, only pausing when I’m interrupted by a phone call.
I take a quick drink of water, wiping my hands on a towel before picking it up.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, sweetheart. Bad time?”
“No, it’s fine. I was just practicing.” I take another deep breath. “What’s up?”
“I got an alert from the bank,” he says with a short pause. “There was an overdraft on your account.”
I tense.
She did not.
I quickly walk into the house, tearing my wallet from my bag by the door.
“Demi.”
I pull back the side pocket and sure enough, my card is gone.
Damn it!
My hand falls and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t have a chance to... check the balance. I’m going out of town for Krista’s birthday tomorrow and...” I ramble off a lie, trying to cover when I wasn’t prepared.
“You’ve been spending more than normal,” he hedges, but I can’t bite.
I have to live with the woman, deal with her more often, which means if I’m lying to someone it unfortunately has to be him.
“I know, there’s just been so much happening around here lately. I can drive into the city next weekend, and work it off?” I offer.
My dad’s law firm is in downtown San Jose, a solid hour or more in traffic from where I am in Santa Cruz. He commuted back and forth for a long time but ended up buying a place closer a couple years ago.
He’s quiet for a moment, and I almost think he’s going to call me out on what he must know is a lie. He sees the statements and where the card is being used.
“No, honey,” he says quietly, the disappointment, maybe a little guilt, too, easily heard. “You don’t have to do that, but thank you for offering. Maybe be a little more conscious of your spending is all, you know, if you can.”
He totally knows it’s her.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Sorry again, Dad.”
“It’s all right. Will you check in with me over the weekend while you’re gone?”
“I will.”
“Love you.”
“Love you,” I tell him. “Bye.”
I hang up and drop my head back, sighing at the ceiling before glaring at my wallet.
She said she came home to drop off her car.
Bullshit.
I can’t wait until I’m away at college and she’s forced to reevaluate or fall flat on her ass.
Tossing my wallet back in my bag, I grab a blue Gatorade from the fridge, a blanket off the back of the couch, and go outside to lay on the large lounger. I pull the soft fleece over my legs, slip my hoodie on, and allow the music to play quietly beside me while I stare at the stars.
It’s well past midnight, my mind having only begun to clear of my own family issues, when the hushed argument of another’s floats over the fence.
“I’m not gonna allow this shit from you anymore,” Nico hisses.
Cold words from someone else follows. “And how does a punk kid like you plan to stop it?”
Mr. Sykes?
I haven’t seen him in years.
“I’m not a fuckin’ kid anymore
, and I won’t stand here and watch you or your new wife destroy her all over again.”
Oh shit, the rumors are true. He did leave them and remarry.
“You think you could stop me if you tried?” A loud, clearly intoxicated laugh echoes. “Your mom will never let me go. She begs to see my face. When was the last time your ma’s even looked at you?”
“You wouldn’t know.” Nico’s voice is a deep rumble that has the hairs on my neck standing. “You keep her so doped up on pills she doesn’t even know what day it is half the time.”
Shit.
I reach for my earbuds, knowing I’ve already heard more than I should have.
“Get the fuck—”
Music fills my ears, cutting Nico’s words off.
It takes a few songs for my muscles to ease, and I close my eyes, letting the chilled September night’s air waft over my face.
Minutes later, my music stops.
I blindly reach for my phone, but when my hand finds an empty space, my eyes pop open.
I jump.
Nico stands tall, his shadow wide and looming, my phone locked tight in his grip.
He glares, jaw clenched, beads of sweat covering his forehead. “You record that?”
My brows jump. “No.” I point to my phone and he tears his gaze from mine, forcing them to the screen. “Just music. I plugged in as soon as—”
“As soon as what?” he snaps. “Soon as it got too heavy for your textbook world?”
I prepare to argue, but the longer I look at him, I decide against it.
He’s stressed. Tense.
Tired?
My eyes fall to his shirt – torn at the sleeve and stretched at the collar – before moving right back to his.
His face hardens and he cuts his glare to the fence.
“Wanna talk?” I ask when maybe I shouldn’t.
He scoffs, shaking his head, still not looking back at me. “I give you one ride home, so you don’t have to walk in the fucking dark, and suddenly you assume I want to talk to you.”
I eye him and his nostrils flare.
He said after his games he doesn’t like talking. Maybe it’s the same with all intense situations for him?
“Good, I’m glad you’re not up for it.” I lift a shoulder and his gaze slowly slides sideways, back to mine as I scoot over on the double lounger, then lay back, gazing up at the sky once again. “You’re an asshole, and I don’t want to talk to you, either.”
He stands there, the heat of his heavy stare burning into the side of my face for a minute or two before a heavy scoff leaves him.
Nico drops beside me.
We lay there in the dark, staring at the stars.
Not talking.
Everything was chill, then the DJ had to go and put some fuckin’ hip-hop on as if watching her dance to the John Mayer bullshit he was playin’ before wasn’t bad enough.
This is torture, and I’m only two hours in.
I can’t deal with this shit a full weekend.
Demi arches her back, swaying her hips to the music while her friends take turns stepping closer, trying to keep up with her.
They can’t.
Swear the girl’s hips were meant to roll.
Her long, dark blonde hair is teasing the skin of her slightly exposed stomach, eyes closed and arms in the air. She’s lost in her own mind, but only for a few minutes before she opens them again.
For the tenth fucking time, her focus shifts to the asshole whose attention she’s after.
Too bad for D, though, lover boy’s not looking at her.
No, his eyes are glued on the girls playing beer pong, the ones who jump up and down in excitement, even when they miss. The ones who have yet to put their clothes back on when they’ve been out of the water for hours and the sun’s been gone just as long.
I glance to Demi.
Her shoulders fall half of an inch, defeat sneaking its way out of her, but she quickly wipes it away.
A scoff leaves me, and I shake my head when the small group of girls take several steps left, trying really fuckin’ hard to get in Alex’s line of sight. She thinks she’s being chill about it, but she doesn’t know I’m watching.
This shit’s embarrassing to witness.
The DJ announces the last song of the night and doing the opposite of what a closer normally would, the dick chooses to hit it harder, and a song more upbeat than the last comes on. Everyone cheers.
A sudden mischievous gleam covers Demi’s face, one that has me sitting forward in my seat.
This is bound to be bad.
She drops a little lower, bends a little further and moves spades fucking faster, to the point where her girls have no choice but to step back and sway around, admiring as she does her thing.
When even the DJ’s eyes fight for a sight of the blinding blonde in the middle, I push to my feet, and what do you fuckin’ know, Demi’s head snaps my way in the same second.
She falters slightly, her dance moves slowing a bit, body shifting in my direction, by accident I’d bet.
I head toward her in unhurried steps.
The closer I get, the more uneasy she grows, and by the time I’m directly in front of her, the girl has stopped moving completely.
“Hey,” she says hesitantly, her hand coming up to brush the hair from her face. “I didn’t know you were here.”
I lick my lips, pulling my bottom one between my teeth a moment. “’Course not, D. You’ve always had blurred vision.”
She pulls back slightly, but doesn’t ask what I mean.
She should.
“You said you weren’t coming.”
“Changed my mind.”
She nods, peeking toward her friends a moment before bringing those eyes back to mine. “So... what’s up?”
“Testosterone. Your little show was as effective as you hoped.”
She bristles, her brows slanting into a frown. “Excuse me?”
“That’s probably a good idea, or I might have to call your ma, tell her you’re not behaving well,” I rag her.
Her eyes flash with surprise, hardening only a second later.
I know she’s hoping I’ll walk away, let her have her fun with her friends, but the night’s done, and so is her playtime.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she hisses, looking around to see who’s watching.
Bet money lover boy is now.
The thought has me wanting to walk the fuck away from her.
I don’t, but she does.
She jerks from the group, storms across the sand, and throws open the double glass doors, hurrying down the hotel hallway.
Don’t matter though, the song was already over, and people are starting to head for their rooms just the same.
I catch her by the elbow right before she passes my door, hers, unbeknownst to her, being the one right beside it, and push her against it, overcrowding her body.
I lock her in, but she beats me to speak.
“When the hell did you talk to my mom?” she questions me angrily.
“You seem as surprised by her little visit as I was.”
“What did she say to you?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She gapes at me, but it quickly morphs into a frown, one I’m not so sure is meant for me.
“So, Little D, all that for Alex Hammons?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do.”
A laugh bubbles out of her and she crosses her arms. “Why do you even care?”
“I don’t, but it was disgustingly obvious,” I sneer. “Sad really. You should tone it down a bit, not come off so willing.”
Her jaw clenches as she tries to hold back but can’t.
“Maybe I am,” she says with a fake ass lack of concern.
“Any other girl would realize if a guy doesn’t notice her on his own it’s a lost cause.”
“What do you know about having to fight for someone’s attentio
n?” she snaps.
This time it’s me that lets out a humorless laugh.
She tries to look away, but I drop my forehead to hers to keep her facing forward, and her eyes darken, in annoyance maybe, but the pink tinting her cheeks has nothing to do with the sunburn she got today.
More and more voices fill the area, so I cut my stare down the hall. My eyes narrow, spotting Alex and Sandra walking this way, to his room, I’d bet.
He laughs at something she said and then looks up, spotting me standing here with Demi in front of me and an instant frown pulls at his brows.
Fuck, man.
He makes an excuse that gets Sandra to pause with him and they talk in place, where he can pretend he’s not fixated on us.
I look back to D.
Tension has her face drawn tight as she nibbles at her lower lip.
“You’re seriously trippin’ on him?”
She ignores me but can’t hide the dejection eating at her.
The longer I look into her eyes, the more a really dumb thought settles in low in my gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it.
My mind fucking races, nothing but flashes of the pretty little dancer in front of me spinning round and round and god damn.
No.
No, no... bad idea.
Talk about the possibility of full force backfire and now knowing for sure she wants him? It’ll be worse. Harder.
Unless...
Her green eyes are low and on mine, a hint of gentle concern hidden behind the unease.
What are you worried about, D?
“Nico...” She trails off, her gaze roaming across my face, noticing the question written across it.
He’s seen me with her, in her space. This can be read a lot different than what it is, not much I can do to erase that.
What choice do I have at this point, right?
Right.
Fuck, I shouldn’t.
I do it anyway.
I keep my eyes on hers, needing to witness first-hand the look in hers as I slide my hand across her stomach until I reach the loop on her little shorts. I bring her against me.
Her hip almost meets mine she’s so tall, five-eight or nine to my six three.
Shock has her eyes widening, but damn, she doesn’t fight me in the slightest.
“Acting desperate, that’s your plan to get what you want?” I question. “You’re good with gaining notice that way?”
Fake It 'Til You Break It Page 7