The Unexpcted Complications of Revenge

by Jessica Sorensen

  “No, it’s not.” She crosses her arms and raises her chin defiantly. “All I have to say is that the date’s over and you need to take me home.”

  “But you’re not going to say that,” I say, sounding more confident than I am.

  Her brow lifts in a challenge. “Says who?”

  Goddammit, why can’t I tell if she’s joking or not? It’s driving me crazy and is pissing me off. And it kind of makes me want to try kissing her again. Do all sorts of things to her with my mouth. I don’t even know why I’m reacting this way.

  Okay, maybe I do. I’ve wanted to kiss her for a while. I want to kiss her now.

  Kissing, kissing, kissing, it’s haunting my mind.

  Not just kissing either. I want to do a lot of other things to her, but if I tried most of them, I’d look like a dick. And I can’t be a dick when I’m with her.

  I don’t move in for the kiss, fearing rejection, which yeah, is another first for me.

  Instead, I pathetically say, “Please will you do this for me?” I stick out my lip as an extra bonus. Honestly, I have no clue if the move will work on her.

  Her gaze dances from my eyes to my jutted out lip. Eyes. Lips. Eyes. Lips … I wonder if she’s thinking about kissing me, too.

  Yes, kiss me.

  “Fine,” she surrenders.

  For a moment, I think she means kissing me. Then I realize I said that in my own head.

  And Elodie doesn’t think I’m weird.

  Smiling like an idiot, I reach for the door handle. “Trust me; when you see where we’re going tonight, you’re not going to regret this.” I’m all bravado since I have no damn clue where else I’m taking her.

  But I’m trying to make things exciting.

  “That is, if I make it anywhere else tonight.” She eyeballs the cliffs again. “Well, besides the hospital.”

  I reach over and place my hand on her leg.

  When she jolts from my touch, I try not to take her reaction personally, but I kind of do.

  “You’ll be fine, I promise.” I give her leg a squeeze, noting how soft her skin is and how long her legs are. In fact, I noticed that the moment I saw her tonight. I always knew her legs were long, but she rarely shows them off. She really should, because they’re sexy as hell, especially with those goddamn socks she’s wearing. “This whole trust thing works both ways. You trust me. I trust you.”

  “Fine.” She offers me a tentative smile, then hops out of the car.

  I follow after her, climbing out of the car and tugging my shirt off.

  “What’re you doing?” she squeaks, covering her mouth as she stares at my chest.

  And just like that, I get a little glimpse into what she’s thinking as her eyes wander up and down my chest.

  I can’t keep a smile off my face. “Getting ready to jump.” I let my fingers wander down the front of my chest, across my stomach, down to the button of my jeans.

  Her eyes track my every movement, her hand lowering from her mouth, and I become less and less nervous. This is where I’m most comfortable. This is what I do best.

  I flick the button undone and try not to grin as she bites down on her bottom lip.

  “Why are you taking your clothes off?” she asks, her gaze fixed on my groin area as I drag the zipper of my jeans down.

  “I’m not going to go swimming in my clothes. Then I’d have to go home and change.” I start to pull my pants down.

  She stares momentarily before jerking her gaze off me and staring out at the lake, her eyes wide. “I’m not getting naked.”

  “I never said you had to.” I kick off my shoes and step out of my pants.

  “And I don’t want you to get naked, either.” She covers her eyes.

  I frown, my ego slightly wounded. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes.” She doesn’t miss a beat.

  Again, I almost stumble, yet I manage to catch myself. “How about I keep my boxers on?”

  “What about me?” she asks. “What am I supposed to wear?”

  “Well, if I had my way, nothing,” I joke. When she tenses, I add, “You can always just take your dress off and wear that plaid shirt. That doesn’t sound too bad, right?”

  She lets out a shaky breath then gives an uneven nod.

  I do my best to hide my disappointment. When she makes no move to start stripping—again, disappointment on my part—I add, “Do you want me to turn around while you change?”

  She bobs her head up and down.

  Sighing, I do something I’m not used to doing. I turn around and act like a total gentleman. Sure, I can occasionally be a good guy. I open doors for the elderly, I let ladies go first, and I help Ensley’s mom carry her cleaning supplies into the house all the time. Granted, I don’t do that for the guy who takes care of the garage and yard, but he’s a huge dude. He can lift his own shit.

  When I hear the rustling of fabric, I struggle, wanting to turn around so damn badly and see what’s underneath that dress she’s wearing. But I keep my word and stay turned until she tells me she’s good.

  “All right.” Her voice is quiet and laced with nervousness.

  When I turn around, I try not to stare, but holy hell, she looks so damn gorgeous. Who knew a plaid shirt could look so sexy on a girl? It doesn’t help that her hair is a wild mess, all sexy and wavy. I want to run my fingers through it. And don’t even get me started on her legs. I thought those socks were sexy, but nope, I think I prefer them bare.

  “You’re staring,” she says quietly, shifting her weight and tugging on the hem of the shirt.

  “Sorry.” No, I’m not. “You just look …” I wet my lips with my tongue. “You look sexy as hell.”

  She snorts a laugh then rolls her eyes, looking away from me.

  My brows dip as I make my way over to her. “Why did you just laugh?”

  She shakes her head and shrugs. “I didn’t realize I did.”

  I reach out and cup her chin, gently but firmly turning her head toward me. “You did, and I want to know why.”

  Her brows elevate. “You really don’t know?”

  I try not to take the insinuation in her tone too personally. “I really don’t, so please just tell me.”

  “You’ve said please a lot in the last few minutes.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. No changing subjects until you tell me why you just laughed.”

  She frowns. “I’d rather not, if you don’t already know the answer.”

  I gently graze my finger along her lips. I know, I know. Not the right time at all. But they’re right there, and they’re so tempting.

  “Is it because of something I said?”

  She wavers. “Perhaps.”

  “Something I said right now.”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Okay, I’m so lost.”

  “That’s okay.” She pats my shoulder, all buddy-buddy-like, and I resist pouting. “You don’t need to know everything.”

  “Maybe not in general terms of everything in the world, but with you, I think I do.”

  “Ha! That’s the most ridiculous statement I’ve ever heard.”

  “No, I think it’s the most accurate.”

  She rolls her eyes slowly but dramatically, which both irks me and makes me want to try to kiss her again.

  Shit, I’m so screwed.

  No, I’m more than screwed. If I kiss her and fall for her, then I’m going to want to tell her more about me. And if I tell her more about me, she might realize how messed up I am and how messed up my family is.

  I can remember the first time I realized something wasn’t quite right in my house.

  “When I get older and I’m ready to retire, you’re going to take over my position,” my dad had told me.

  I was coloring at his desk. He hated when I colored, said I needed to stop acting like a little kid. I was seven at the time.

  “What if I don’t want to?” I asked. “What if I want to become an artist or a photographer?”

  I wen
t through a phase all through grade school where I believed I was going to become some famous photographer. I blame it on my mother. She was always taking me to art galleries or photo shoots, and I became fascinated with the concept.

  Of course, when I got older, I realized that was a pipedream. I own a camera and sometimes take photos. No one knows this about me, except for the people in the photography class and now Ens.

  I don’t even know why I sent her that photo. Well, maybe I do. I wanted her to see how I saw her, how other people see her. She deserved that. I just hope I didn’t freak her out. And I hope she doesn’t tell anyone because, if my father found out, he would flip.

  Just like he did the day I told him I didn’t want to work for his company.

  After I told him, he took my crayons away and broke them into pieces.

  “You’re going to take over my company, and you’re going to be grateful.” He threw the pieces of crayons in the trash, and I did my best not to burst into tears, knowing he’d get mad if I did. “You’re my only son, Carter, and as my only son, it’s your responsibility to carry on what I’ve worked so hard to create.”

  I didn’t want to do what he did, mostly because the guys he worked with were scary.

  I started to open my mouth to protest, but he struck me so hard my ears rang. Then he grabbed a knife from his collection displayed on the wall, snatched ahold of my hand, and cut my palm open.

  I wanted to scream, but the look he gave me kept my quivering lips sealed.

  “That’ll leave a scar. Every time you think about arguing with me, look at that scar and remember what happens.” Then he turned and walked toward the door. “Tomorrow, I’m going to start teaching you about the business that you’re going to start officially working for the moment you graduate.”

  He made good on his threat, too, and I was too frightened to argue with him.

  I tried to tell my mom once, but she shut the conversation down ASAP.

  “What your father does is none of my business,” she snapped. “Now go to your room before I tell your father what you’re up to.”

  And that was that.

  And now I’m stuck living a life I don’t really want.

  But honestly, it’s always kind of been that way.

  I tear my thoughts away from the painful memories and focus on the present.

  “Well, if you’re not going to tell me, then”—I step away from Ens, both relieved from the space and hating it—“see you at the bottom.” Then I turn, run to the edge of the cliff, and jump, holding my breath.

  The fall lasts only for a second, yet somehow, it feels like an eternity, my lungs about to burst.

  I crash into the water, and when I resurface, the air comes rushing back to me.

  19

  Ensley

  I stare over the edge of the cliff, wrapping my arms around myself. I can’t believe I agreed to this. What the heck was I thinking?

  “Stop overthinking it!” Carter shouts from somewhere below me. I honestly can’t tell where since I can’t see a damn thing. “You’re psyching yourself out.”

  My heart thunders in my chest. “I can’t see anything. What if I hit the rocks?”

  “You won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Trust me.”

  I inch closer to the ledge. “Trust you? I barely know you.”

  “Aw, Ens, I thought we talked about this already.” His tone is all playful. Well, mostly playful, with a hint of edginess. “We’ve known each other for a decade.”

  “But we don’t know a lot about each other.”

  “We know enough.” He drags out a pause. “I know you love to read, that you hate wearing dresses, that talking to people freaks you out, but that you’re actually a great talker. I feel sorry for everyone who hasn’t gotten to experience the awesome conversationalist known as Ens the badass.”

  A laugh slips past my lips.

  “You like weird things, like steampunk and Alice in Wonderland. So much so that you sometimes wish you lived there,” he continues. “You hate the color pink, and think stuffing is the grossest food that’s ever existed. You love rock music, especially the classics, and you hate pop songs—they drive you nuts. Your mom is the most important person in the world to you, and El is your BFFFB; has been since third grade when she knocked my dumbass down on the ground because I was being a dumbass and deserved it.”

  I roll my tongue in my mouth, unsure of what to say. “Alice in Wonderland and steampunk aren’t weird. Everything else is just too normal.”

  “I completely agree with you.” His voice echoes around me.

  I peer over the edge again, wishing I could see him. “How did you know all of that? Did El tell you?”

  “She told me a few things,” he admits. “While some things are just from observing you. And some are from our secret conversation that you can’t remember that’s not such a secret anymore.”

  Gah! The cursed conversation I can’t remember. Why does it always come back to that!

  Then I rewind through what he said, my mind wandering elsewhere.

  “You observe me?” My voice is quiet, but it echoes against the stillness around us. “Like, when you took the photo?”

  He doesn’t answer right away. “I might watch you from a distance sometimes … It’s not as creepy as it sounds.”

  “Sounds kind of creepy to me.” About as creepy as my obsession with staring at him. “Well, if you did it more than once or twice. If it was only once, we can chalk it up to you losing your mind for a split second.”

  Like I did when he took off his shirt.

  But, wow, oh wow, I couldn’t help it. I mean, sure, I’ve seen him shirtless when he’s swimming in his pool or just walking around in his pajama bottoms, but the experience is different when it’s just the two of us. Plus, he did that sexy thing where he dragged his hand down his chest to undo the button of his jeans …

  The crushy girl inside me was going wild. Good thing she doesn’t have complete control over my body, or I might have tried to touch him.

  “I guess I’m a creeper, then,” he jokes in an amused tone. “Because I may have done it more than once or twice.”

  “Yeah, you are. I better leave.” I turn on my heels, pretending to go. Well, mostly pretending. Part of me does want to run back to the car to avoid jumping off the ledge.

  “Hey, don’t leave me down here all by myself!” he shouts through a laugh. “I’m scared. It’s really creepy down here. I think a sea monster just brushed up against my leg.”

  I giggle, turning back around. “A sea monster? Really? That’s the best you can come up with? Where’s your sense of imagination?”

  “I’m not sure I have a very good imagination. Maybe you should help me out.”

  “Fine, how about this? Hundreds and hundreds of mermaids are in that lake with you right now.”

  “Mermaids don’t sound so bad. And they can be kind of hot.”

  “Not these ones. These ones have fangs and slime for skin, and their scales ooze pus.”

  He makes a gagging sound. “Gross.”

  I grin. “They also have claws. Yellow ones from all the fungus living on their skin. And when they eat you—which they will, because their favorite dessert is hot guys who jump into a lake at night by themselves—you’ll stay alive in their belly for decades, living off the pus that fills their insides.”

  “You’re so morbid,” he says through a gag. “And now I’m really creeped out.”

  “Enough to get out of the lake?”

  “Nope. But enough to never ask you what mermaids look like ever again. You’re seriously a little weirdo.”

  Dammit, I thought maybe scaring him would get me out of this.

  “Come on, Ens, just get it over with,” he tries to encourage. “And then we’ll do something fun.”

  I don’t want to do it. At all. Yet, I find myself inching closer to the edge.

  “If mermaids try to eat me, you’ll stop them,
right?” I ask, closing my eyes.

  “Of course. I’ll offer myself as a sacrifice.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  He laughs. “Glad you don’t sound too upset about the fact that I just basically said I’d die for you.”

  “You wouldn’t die. You’d just be living in a pus-filled stomach.”

  “Which is worse than death.”

  “True.”

  The air grows quiet around me, a warm breeze kissing my exposed skin. I feel so vulnerable at the moment, standing on a ledge, wearing nothing but a plaid shirt and my bra and underwear, with Carter down below me, either playing a game with me or flirting. Both seem equally terrifying.

  I want to run. I want to chicken out. But I find myself bending my knees.

  If you asked me in this moment why I decided to do it, I couldn’t tell you. Perhaps it’s because I know the date won’t continue unless I do. That the plan won’t continue. Or maybe it’s that Carter is down there and somehow my crush has become more than just a crush.

  Or maybe I’m just having my very first live-in-the-moment experience.

  Whatever the reason, I take a deep breath and jump.

  Then I fall and fall and fall.

  Okay, maybe I just fall. Because, by the time I actually realize I’m falling, I’m already landing in the water. Or, well, landing in Carter’s arms, since the second I sink under, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me up.

  Once I break the surface, I gasp for air, my gaze moving to the cliff that I just jumped from. The pitch-black night makes it nearly impossible to see, but the headlights shining above, along with the moonlight and stars, offer a speck of light.

  “Holy shit, that was intense,” I breathe, my eyes wide as I clutch his bare shoulders.

  “But not as bad as you thought, right?” His mouth is so close to my ear that his breath warms my skin.

  This time, I can’t help shivering. Fortunately, I’m already shivering enough from the cold water that I doubt he notices.

  “That all depends.” Crap, I sound too breathless.

  “On what?” His mouth is now so close to my ear that his lips brush my skin.

  I swallow hard. “On if mermaids try to eat us.”