Red: Burning Desire (Spectrum Series Book 7)

by Allison White

  “Oh. Nothing in particular,” I tell him in an upbeat voice, starting up the stairs.

  “He’s lying! He almost got some pussy this morning!” Ty yells from his spot on the couch inside the living room.

  “Fuck off, Ty!” I yell back over my shoulder, middle finger poised. Red doing the same thing flashes through my mind, and I laugh to myself. I bask in Mike’s chuckle downstairs. I’m so high on cloud nine, I doubt anything can knock me off. Not without a fight from me, at least.

  Opening my bedroom door, I’m shot off that cloud and served up as Noah-stew, because sitting on my bed are my parents. My very, very, very angry-looking parents, if I’m honest. I feel my heart drop to my ass.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  In life there are moments when I wish I could hit a pause button and get the hell away before shit hits the fan. One of the first moments I can remember is the time I bit the tongue of the first girl I kissed, Molly Wendell. She spread the incident around middle school, and I experienced my first facepalm moment. The next was when I broke my leg from painting a mural on a building in my hometown, the night before the homecoming football game.

  But none of those moments compare to this one because of two things: 1. My mother is tapping her foot, lips screwed in her mouth—which is a tell-tale sign that this is going to end painfully with a lecture I should get popcorn for, to be honest. And 2. My father is standing very, very far from her—which just highlights how much I am in for it with Mother. She’s always been the disciplinary one. The one that lectures and scowls and flicks you on the head when your posture is like a sloth’s.

  “Are you going to just stand there like a statue?” My mother is wearing a white pantsuit with a red blouse underneath the jacket, her makeup light, lips a bloody red.

  My brain whirls at warp speed to formulate a sophisticated response.

  “Uh…hey?” I say unsurely.

  My father’s jaw tightens in the background.

  Mother rolls her honey brown eyes. “Noah, we sent you here so you would learn how to be a responsible adult with a clear head on your shoulders and a diploma in your hand. Not some delinquent who gets into fights like he doesn’t know how to talk first and not use his fists like some…some…”

  “Barbarian?” Father assists, and I glare at him. He holds up his hands, palms up in defense, an annoying smirk on his face. I see he hasn’t changed since he hauled me out of Italy.

  “Yes, Robert.” She nods to Father in thanks, then swivels those fiery eyes back to me. “A barbarian is the right word I’m looking for. Noah, what are you doing? What could have possibly gone through your head that would make you raise your fist to some innocent boy?”

  “Innocent?” I laugh before thinking, and she raises a brow. “Ian is anything but innocent. He…” I trail off, holding back why we got into a fight in the first place. Something tells me she won’t appreciate my involvement with Red.

  “He what, Noah? Did he bully you, sweetie?” she asks softly.

  I’m not some little kid. God, I hate it when she treats me like I’m some little boy who needs her protection and sweet tone. A boy who doesn’t understand that without his mother’s guidance, he will turn into a caveman delinquent who only knows a few slobbering words without a college diploma. I am so much more than that. I am artistic through and through. I just wanted to travel the world. See some things. Do more.

  But she will never understand.

  “No, Mother,” I say with a bite in my voice. “I am nineteen, meaning I can handle it if someone bullies me. I’m not a little kid on the playground. He didn’t bully me. He was just a dick.”

  “Language!” she barks.

  Father hides a smile. “Yeah, language,” he adds. Walking over to Mother, he puts a hand on her shoulder. She shakes it off, glaring at me with laser beams. “Maybe you should listen to your mother—”

  “She’s calling me a child!” I interrupt.

  “I did not call you a child,” Mother spits.

  “You implied it!” I shout.

  “Hey, now—enough with the arguing.” Father’s voice has deepened, and he looks at me with intense, dark green eyes behind his square black glasses. My father rarely raises his voice or takes a stand between my mother and me, so when he levels his eyes at the both of us, I make sure to listen. He is the saner of the two. “Noah, we sent you here to get an education. You’re passionate about art, I get it.” His eyes flick over to the mural of the city I’ve yet to take down. “But you have to give this college thing a chance—”

  “College thing?” Mother gasps, wide-eyed.

  “Gemma, please,” Dad pleads softly. She merely rolls her eyes before settling them on me. “Thank you.” He kisses the side of her head, and I swear I see a hint of a smile on her crimson lips. “Noah…you have to give this a real chance. I know it isn’t your passion or anything, but it will get you farther in life. Your art is incredible…but you need to have a college diploma. After that, you can paint the eight wonders of the world and resurrect Picasso with your art.” He laughs and I chuckle; Mother remains stoic. “But for now, college needs to be your priority. No fighting. Please. For me?”

  Normally, I would rebel and argue with my mother despite all he’s just said. But the calmness and understanding in his voice and soft green eyes compel me to be a good boy for just this once and do as they say.

  Sighing heavily, I nod. “Yes. You’re right. But even so, you have to accept that not everyone here has good intentions. Some people can act like dicks…” I stop myself as Mother narrows her eyes. “I didn’t start these fights to get back at you or anything. He’s just a very frustrating person and, well, he brings out the worst in me.” And I’m not lying. I’m normally a chill, low-key guy, but he’s yanked me into two fights without much effort. He’s just an asshole.

  “You started the fights?” Mother shrieks.

  Uh…whoops?

  Luckily, Father gently squeezes her shoulder, quieting her to the point where she diffuses her anger and instead mutters under her breath. He’s so skilled at calming her down in record time, he should be on the Bomb Squad.

  “We’ll check up every once in a while. Enjoy yourself, but no more fighting,” Father says as he leads Mother out of the room.

  “Got it,” I assure him.

  I listen to Mother’s quiet rambling about how I should be looked after and Father’s quiet attempt to hush her. A few high heel clicks later, I hear the front door shut. I jog over to the window that looks out over the front lawn and watch as they get in their porcelain white Porsche and drive away. I slump against the window, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. At least now we got that surprise visit out of the way and I can relax. I just can’t get into any more trouble or they’ll hire a bodyguard to watch me or something insane like that.

  “Your parents are insane,” a voice whispers in my ear.

  I whip around and face Ty, who’s staring at my parents’ Porsche turning down the street. “You’re the insane one, sneaking up on me like a weirdo.”

  I push at him playfully and walk over to my bed. Grabbing my backpack, I dump it on my bed and let out a grumble. I promised my father to focus on college, and he’s actually a lot better at being persuasive than my mother, so I will do as promised and do better. Actually try my best. And the first sure way of trying is studying.

  “Hey, you coming to the fair tonight?” he asks, dropping onto his bed.

  “Fair?” I prop open a chemistry textbook. Rachel crosses my mind and a quiz we have on Tuesday, and I reach for my phone to see if she wants to study together. I need to pass this quiz since I nearly bombed the last one. The girl’s a chemical wizard. She could be a mad scientist if she chose to be one.

  “Just this bullshit fair the school puts together to ‘support’ the football team.” He puts up air quotes.

  “What’s up with the air quotes around support?” I furrow my brows, take one glance at a review question on a random
page, my brain explodes, and I close the book. I’ll study later.

  “Nothing except the fact that they put us, the team, into stupid games, like that dunking shit, so people will donate money for equipment or whatever. This school’s fucking loaded, probably. Coach just loves to see us suffer,” he exclaims with such vigor, a vein thumps on his forehead. I’m a laughing mess. “Laugh now. Coach is still pissed about that fighting stunt between you and Ian. And he’s got something extra special for you two.”

  My laughter dissipates. “Wait. What?”

  “No, keep laughing. It’s so freaking hilarious.” He jumps to his feet and winks at me before slinking out of the room.

  “Wait! What’s that supposed to mean?” I call after him, but he closes the door.

  Ugh.

  I guess I’ll find out what he means later tonight. It bothers me that I didn’t know about the fair until now. I’m on the team, but I didn’t find out about the team event until Ty asked if I was going…I guess I’ve been so focused on Red and whatever the hell we are that I’ve been blurring other important things out. I really need to focus on everything in whole. Not just her. Easier said than done, I think as I find my thumbs sending a text to her.

  Noah: Feel like spending time with a frat guy who could definitely win you a collection of bears from carnival games tonight?

  When the response isn’t immediate, I flip open the textbook. Stare at the formulas and…end up texting Rachel. I ask her about the fair and if she wants to attend, though she may have already gotten the message since her brother’s the team captain. But it doesn’t hurt to ask, right? Her response is almost immediate, but to be fair, it’s just a thumbs-up emoji followed by a smiley emoji.

  As I type back a response to get a conversation going about the chemistry quiz, my phone buzzes. On top of the screen is a text back from Red. My heart drops incredibly low as I read it and tap on the banner.

  Red: Busy.

  My thumbs hover over the necessary keys to ask if she’s okay. Her tone is clipped and distant, even if it’s over text. I think I know her well enough to know when something’s off with her. I skim through our previous texts, smiling at the silly emojis and her sass and my corny jokes she seemingly doesn’t find funny, but I knew when I sent them she was dying of laughter. I could just sense it over the phone. Just like I can sense she isn’t okay now.

  But when I finish and hover my thumb over the SEND key, she replies.

  Red: OK, Prep. Dont worry.

  A slight smile melts onto my face because I think, like me, she can sense what I’m feeling. So, instead of getting her upset, which happens a lot, I send her an Okay and study over the phone with Rachel with a smile.

  ***

  I’ve quickly come to learn that Coach is a vindictive man. What Ty hinted at earlier in regards to my “punishment” at the fair is wearing nothing but the school’s basketball shorts while holding up a sign that says:

  I am an idiot who can’t stop fighting like a wild animal. Kiss me to soothe my animalistic ways. A dollar.

  At first, I think I was let off easy compared to other guys getting dunked in freezing water and having fruits thrown at their faces through cut-out holes, and then I stand for an hour. In that hour, I get kissed by twenty women, all purring after me and mocking me. Some write their numbers on my chest, which I immediately wipe off when they stumble off with their friends, drunk out of their minds.

  I’ve been here for almost two hours now, and my nipples are frozen solid, there’s too much lipstick to get off, and I really have to pee. I would have someone cover for me, but Coach hasn’t stopped glaring at me since Ian claimed he was sick and got left off. Damn lying asshole. He just didn’t want to do this stupid job.

  “Anyone gotta dollar on ’em?” Mike teases as he and a group walk over to me. He and most of the other guys on the team played their roles in this freaking fair and are now enjoying what it has to offer. I want to get cotton candy, but I have more fear for my balls Coach threatened to kick after the incident than desire for sugar on a stick.

  “Shut the fuck up and move on or he’ll kill us all,” I warn through chattering teeth.

  “Oh, you can stop now,” Ty says with a secretive smirk.

  “What? No. Coach’s still watching.” I nod to the angry man ten feet away.

  They all laugh like there’s some inside joke I don’t know about.

  “Why’re you laughing?” I ask.

  “That isn’t Coach,” Mike says, laughing. “Ty paid some guy to stand there for a while just so you’d stand here looking like a fool. Completely his idea, of course.”

  “What?” I roar, and the group bursts into laughter.

  “Yeah, Coach left, like, an hour ago,” he adds.

  “Got you goooood.” Ty shoots finger guns at me.

  Picking up the cardboard sign, I run after him. He made me stand there forever when I could have been free this entire time? Girls purr after me as I run around the fair. For a receiver, he runs like a little chubby baby who just learned how to walk. Does he only know how to run on the field or something? He even goes as far as pushing people in my way, trying to dodge the certainty of death by my hands. I didn’t get quarterback for no reason. I tackle him between a rifle shooting game and a basketball free-throw game.

  “You. Are. A dead man!” I scream as I begin beating him with the cardboard. The group and Mike have caught up with us. Some people record using their cell phones while Ty screams like a bitch. He deflects horribly, and after a while it just gets sad, so I end up punching him in the shoulder and telling him, “Don’t do that shit again. I’m not entirely sure my nipples haven’t fallen off.”

  Laughing his head off, he stands up. “Want me to check?” He makes grabby hands at my chest, and I push him off. He can be such a dick.

  “Get off of me.” I laugh as he comes at me again. I’m looking around for booths that interest me since I am finally off the clock, no thanks to this dick, when I see her. I almost think I’m going crazy and a little obsessed with her, but then she screams and that’s a distinguishable factor if there were ever any.

  “Red?” I say breathlessly.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’m being tugged physically, urged to join the group conversation. They’re talking about seeing a movie some day during the week. I’d love to interact with them, have fun. But I can’t stop staring at Red. She said she was busy, so what is she doing here? And with a guy, nonetheless? My hands curl into fists as I eye the man as best I can so far away.

  I’m about to storm over and confront her when I hear a very cheery, “What did I miss?” It’s Rachel. I begin to smile at her as she bounces over to us, but then my eyes land on the tall, brooding asshole of a step-brother.

  “I thought you were sick,” I say to him when they walk over.

  “Yeah. Of doing that dumb shit.” He smiles sarcastically, an arm around his sister. She pushes his arm off, much to my pleasure, and scampers over to give me a quick side-hug.

  “Don’t mind him; someone pissed in his Cheerios this morning,” she says, earning an eye roll from Mr. Scrooge behind her.

  “That person must hate the cereal to do it every morning,” I joke, and she laughs, though her brother scowls at me. Now I’m really wondering if someone does piss in his cereal. It would explain a lot.

  “Anyway, I was thinking we could get on the Ferris wheel and…” Rachel begins with a huge grin. I try to focus on her words, on her warm smile and excited eyes, but I can’t erase the presence of Red, even if she’s so far away. I can feel her and her obvious lie weighing on my shoulders. It becomes hard to ignore when I can’t stop imagining punching the guy she’s with. But then I think of it and I hate myself for it. Jealousy. She evokes so many emotions in me, but jealousy is one I despise because it’s toxic and sometimes all-consuming.

  “I need to go do something,” I interrupt Rachel and hate myself a little more as her smile drops into a small frown.

  “What
? But the Ferris wheel…” She trails off, and I mentally stab myself in the eye with a fork. Sweet Rachel doesn’t deserve being ditched because of Red, who blatantly lied to me.

  “It’ll be quick, I promise,” I assure her, squeezing her shoulder lightly.

  “Okay,” she says with a smile, eyes swimming in gloom.

  “Way to break my li’l sis’s heart.” Ian wraps his arms around her, and they get into this bickering fight, and I slowly slip away, kind of grateful for him getting those big sad eyes away from torturing me. Each time hurts more I pull away from her kindness to embark toward someone so complicated, it makes my head hurt sometimes.

  As I grow closer to the…two, I pull on my jersey and run a hand through my hair. I end up pulling on my dark blue beanie that matches the jersey. Ignoring the shudder of fire under my skin as I approach her, I paint on a smile.

  “Hey, Red,” I say in an easy tone.

  She stops screaming at the man and looks over at me. Her eyes do a double take, and she quickly glares at the man before sighing, eyes settling on me again. “’Sup.”

  What?

  “That’s all you have to say to me?” I thought she’d be shy about being caught then explain why she lied to me. I like the girl, I really do. So I would have forgiven her easily and gotten her a cotton candy. But if she’s going to act this way…

  “We’ll continue this later,” the man says, and I finally notice him. And I mean really notice him. He’s tall, maybe six-foot-two, so a little shorter than me. He has sharp features, hooded. And he’s dressed in all black, from his biker boots to the huge hoodie.

  “Whatever.” Red rolls her eyes.

  He grips her arm, and I widen my eyes. “Answer when I call,” he murmurs before roughly letting go and brushing past me. I stumble back and register what just happened but come up empty handed.

  “Who the hell was that?” I turn to Red, who tries to walk away, but I instinctively grab her hand. She pulls away and looks at me with wide eyes. I apologize immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…” But then I think of what we’ve been doing—kissing and…other things, wisely—and I trail off. “Actually, no. What were you doing here with him?”