Red: Burning Desire (Spectrum Series Book 7)

by Allison White

  Her eyes brighten again, and she smiles, nodding. “Of course.” She rushes back up the stairs.

  Red squats, her face close to mine. “I’m sorry for skipping out on you. I didn’t mean anything by it; I swear it. I love you,” she says in one quick breath. And as she pants, I wonder why she’s acting so weird.

  “It’s all right, Red. You don’t have to tell me, whatever it was,” I assure her. As long as she’s apologetic and not here with Tanner. I don’t even do a quick sweep to where she was sitting because I trust her, I decide. Truly and honestly. “And I love you.”

  Her cheeks bloom, and she looks down, like she’s embarrassed. “I saw some of the game. I just came because I had a…a thing. I’m sorry. But, um, yeah. You’re doing great. I’m p-proud.” Her voice breaks, and I find it the cutest thing.

  I lean forward and press my lips to hers. People notice and whistle, clapping. I ignore them and get lost in the softness of her lips. I’m not usually into PDA, but I couldn’t not kiss her. A stuttering Red who blushes is my kryptonite. She tastes like Pepsi and licorice; she must be enjoying the concession stand.

  “You taste delicious,” I murmur as I pull away slightly.

  She smiles at me and pecks me again. “And you taste like sweat.”

  “Do I?” I touch my sweaty cheek before tapping hers.

  She peels away slightly, squealing, “Noah!”

  I’m laughing at her adorable reaction when I hear a very loud and unappreciative voice. I look past her and stare up into the eyes of my parents. It takes a very long while to process this. What the hell are they even doing here? And why do they look so pissed?

  “Noah? What are you doing?” my mother barks, clutching her expensive purse with a venomous expression.

  I roll my eyes, and Red looks over her shoulder with raised brows. “Guys, this is my…” I pause, and Red looks back at me. I watch her for a few seconds. Her face softens, cheeks reddening. Go ahead, say it, her expression says. Grinning from ear to ear, I say, “This is Red Sylvetti, my girlfriend. Red, these are my wonderful parents, Richard and—”

  “Are you Noah Wells?” someone asks. I look to my left. A tall older guy wearing glasses and a trench coat over a dark suit is staring at me tentatively.

  “Um, yes.” I raise a brow. “Who are you?”

  “Now hold up now, I told y’all to—” Coach is screaming at a woman in a dark trench coat, with dark pin-straight hair, holding up what seems to be a badge.

  “Sir, this is a serious situation—” she begins in a monotone voice.

  “I’m gonna need you to turn around with your hands behind your back,” the man instructs in a firm tone.

  What? “What?”

  “Excuse me, what is going on, sir?” I hear my mother demand above me.

  “Noah…” Red trails off. I see the fear in her eyes.

  “Do not say a damn thing, Noah! Fuck the pigs!” Ty begins to chant as the man walks over to me.

  “Noah Wells—” he says, taking my hands and pushing me against the wall. The crowd grows silent and buzzes with hushed whispers as he loudly says the next part, “You are under arrest for the possession of crack cocaine. Anything you say can and will be used you—”

  “Don’t say anything, Noah! You hear me? Nothing!” I hear my father yell as I feel metal clamp around my wrist. I freeze, unable to say anything without my heart falling out my mouth.

  “—There is a game going on!” Coach continues to badger the woman.

  “Noah,” Red says again, tears in her eyes.

  “It’s okay.” He pulls me off the wall, ranting a speech about my rights. “I’m fine. Just…just you and my parents. Follow me to the precinct.”

  Before he pulls me in the direction of the exit, his partner behind him, I think I see her mouth form an, “I love you,” before I am forced to face forward, under the humiliating stares of the entire school.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  I can see my parents through the thin window in the door. My mother is screaming at a police officer who’s just doing his job, standing by, my father silent behind her. Her dark hair and dark brown eyes are blurs as she shakes with a fury so strong, I can feel the heat and I’m far away. My father lets her be angry without exhausting himself as well. One of them has to have a cool head or I’ll never be released…which doesn’t seem likely with the charges I’m being faced with.

  Apparently the cops were tipped off that I possessed and had the intention of selling crack cocaine, which can easily land me in prison fifteen years or more. The weight of the time I could get in prison for something I didn’t even do pulls an inhuman sound out of me.

  I can’t go down for this. The drugs they found in my locker aren’t mine. I don’t even know where to get the drugs, forget about knowing where and who to sell them to. And why the hell would I? I don’t need the cash. I’m not a freaking drug dealer.

  I rack my mind for who could have possibly set me up for something as serious as this. Two guys pop up in my head, and I literally inwardly thank the officer who handcuffed my hands to this metal table. Either of those two—or both!—had to have planted the drugs there. They both dislike me enough to do it. For what reason, I have no idea.

  To get back at me for stealing their girl? Because Red stopped showing interest in them and paid more attention to me…loves me? That’s the only reason one of those stooges would do this. Other than them, no one else comes to mind. No one capable of getting hardcore drugs like crack cocaine, which is on the official list of one of the most dangerous drugs ever.

  I’m planning their slow, torturous deaths when the door flies open. My mother eyes the guard in the corner, and he leaves silently. That’s how intense and intimidating my mother is. She’s a dragon that can unleash hellfire without even having to open her mouth sometimes.

  “How could you do this to me, Noah?” she spits, and I seriously question her mental state.

  “Excuse me? I think I heard you wrong,” I say, and she rolls her brown eyes.

  “You heard me correctly,” she assures me, baring her pearly white teeth. “You know how immaculate your father’s and my reputations are. And yet you pull this crap. Do you hate us so much for wanting you to have more than some silly passion for making stick figures that you’d do this? Stoop so far as selling drugs?”

  I am truly at a loss for words. On the one hand, what the fuck? How can she possibly think I’d get caught up in drugs? Selling them? I mean, what the actual fuck? And on the other hand, I totally saw this coming. She and my father are unhealthily obsessed with their reputations, my mother especially. So of course she would jump to me ruining how she would look rather than worry about her son in handcuffs.

  “Wow, Mother. My wrists totally aren’t on fire and sore from these handcuffs.” I yank at them to prove my point. They sling right back to the table, feeling even tighter. These are so uncomfortable; I’ve never been in cuffs before.

  She just rolls her eyes, huffing. “You wouldn’t be in them at all if you hadn’t done what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Then what were the drugs doing in your locker?”

  “Someone must have planted them there,” I tell her, and she shakes her head. “Mother, I am serious. I would never do something like that. And keeping it in my locker? How stupid would I be?” I pause and look around for a camera, holding my fingers up. “Not that I’m confessing or anything. I had nothing to do with this!”

  “Stop it, Noah!” she snaps. “You’re lucky I have connections here. There will be no charges since this is your first offense. Luckily, there won’t be any of this on your record.” She pauses, and I can feel the disappointment without her saying—“I am very disappointed in you, Noah.”

  Spoke too soon.

  “I know. I am too. For hoping you would believe me,” I say.

  Her dark brows furrow, and she looks like she’s about to say something but pushes back in her seat, waving the words away. “An
officer will be by to unlock you. Don’t move.”

  “Ha-ha, you’re very funny, Mother.” I dryly laugh as I watch her leave the room. A heavy sigh leaves my lips, and I have the urge to run a hand over my hair, but I am wickedly reminded of the handcuffs when I move my hands. They drag back to the table, and I let out a laugh. Not because this is funny—this is the least funny thing ever—but because of how quickly I ended up here.

  Just a few hours ago I was playing football. I was the all-American college student. I was playing with two of my best friends, another in the stands cheering me on. Then I was kissing my girlfriend, who I’d made sweet love to the night before. And a second later, I had handcuffs slapped around my wrists and hauled off to jail for supposedly selling crack cocaine.

  I think I deserve a scratch-record moment right about now.

  A few moments later, a husky officer walks in. I avoid my parents’ disappointed gazes as he works to unlock me. The second my hands are free, I stand and rub my sore wrists. They have red rings lapped around them, but I feel much lighter. I’ll feel feather-light when I step foot outside of this freaking jail. Just sitting in that interrogation room, breathing air of past criminals, made me genuinely uncomfortable. I felt like I would jump out of my skin.

  “I think we all know why you ended up here,” Mother sneers when I step out of the interrogation room.

  “And why is that?” I ask sarcastically, rubbing my wrist.

  “That delinquent you were kissing when we showed up,” she claims.

  I look at her. “You can’t be serious.” She doesn’t even know Red. How can she pin something this serious on her?

  “Oh, but I am. She was dressed all…all…Richard, you know.” She looks to my father for assistance, and I give him a look. He doesn’t know her any better than my mother does. Neither of them has the right to blame Red.

  “No, Richard does not know; neither of you know anything!” I snap.

  “Hey, son—” my father says.

  “Don’t son me when you’re blaming my girlfriend for putting me in jail!”

  “No one is saying that—” he starts, but of course Mother cuts him off.

  “We are most definitely saying that.” Mother is glaring at me like I tried to poison her cup of tea.

  I laugh incredulously. “You don’t even know a thing about her, yet you’re accusing her of landing me in jail. Newsflash, not everyone is who you think they are. You can’t judge a person just by looking at them. That isn’t fair or rational.”

  “Oh, we could see how bad she is for you. You stay away from her, Noah,” she demands, and I seriously wonder if she heard a single thing I just said.

  “You don’t know her!” I cry.

  “I don’t need to!” she snaps and stomps on her right high heel. Her brown eyes are melted with rage, and I search for the mother who used to put Band-Aids on my scraped knees when I played too roughly with the other kids in the neighborhood. But all that stares back at me is a changed woman—a scorned woman who has no heart. Not for me, at least. And my anger fades into a tired sadness.

  “She is a sweet girl, Mother. She’s funny, and clever, and sassy, and beautiful, and…and I love her. I really do.”

  She stumbles back like she’s been shot. “Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

  “Mother,” I whisper. She didn’t just say that.

  I look to my father, but he hangs his head and follows her out of the jail. I stay put and shake her words away. I’ve lost the warm mother I loved a long time ago. So why do I keep searching for her in those cold, brown eyes…?

  “We will talk later,” my mother hisses when we’re exiting the jail. It’s night time now, and the air is cold against my bare arms. Thankfully, I got to change into jeans and a t-shirt provided by my lovely father. Unluckily, he didn’t have a spare jacket or coat.

  “There’s no need to, because I didn’t do it—” I begin, but my father holds up a hand.

  “Later, Noah.” He gives me a pleading look.

  I just roll my eyes and shut my mouth. There’s no use talking because they choose not to listen to me, my mother especially. She’s one of those people that, once they have their mind set, there’s no changing it.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and begin to text Red when I hear a car’s horn. I look up from my phone and smile at Red peeking out of her car’s passenger window. I jog over and slip inside.

  “I would have waited inside, but your parents don’t like m—” she starts to explain, but I don’t need that right now. I need to hold her in my arms.

  I lean over the console and wrap my arms around her. I pull her as close as we can get. She’s tense for a long while until her body tells her to just let go, relax in my tight embrace. My body feels energized as I rub her lower back and inhale her scent that just smells like home to me.

  “You’re not mad at me?” she asks, and I pull back to see if she’s serious. Her mouth is set in a firm line, and her brows are frowning dramatically. Oh, she is serious.

  “Of course not. My mother hates you. I would stay away too,” I joke but instantly regret it when her gaze falls to the ground. I grab her hands and tug; she looks up hesitantly, chewing on her bottom lip. “But it’s nothing personal. She’s just a very judgmental person. She’ll warm up to you. My father too. I promise.”

  Fear passes through her eyes. “I don’t think I can meet your parents. Ever.”

  “Why not?” I rub her knuckles gently.

  “Because…” She stops herself, swallows, and pulls her hands away. I watch with a frown as she pushes the gear to drive and pulls out of the parking lot. “Because I’m not a very good person. They’re right to not like me.”

  “Don’t say that.” I scoot over to her. What is wrong with her?

  “But it’s true.” She bites her lip.

  I hate my mother and my father, who doesn’t seem to have a backbone around her. I hate how easily her words can mess with you. The moment she saw me happy with Red, she didn’t like it or her. Just because of the way she looks, which is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. A person’s appearance does not value who they are as a person.

  A few minutes pass uncomfortably. I want to turn on the radio, but I feel glued to my seat. And I need the silence to remind her that I’m still present and not going anywhere until she speaks to me.

  Wanting to lighten the mood, I smile and ask, “So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?” When she doesn’t respond, I ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach and continue. “I was thinking we could go somewhere. Like, maybe London? Or anywhere you have in mind?”

  She just tugs on her lip ring. Her hands are tight around the thin, large wheel. I don’t like how tense her position is, how wracked with nerves she looks. Maybe she doesn’t want to do anything with me. It’s a family holiday. She probably has plans to spend it with her family. As much as she loves me, I don’t think she’d give up time with her grandpa.

  “We don’t have to travel; I’m sorry for bringing it up.” We’re near my house. I feel silly for even bringing it up. I just wanted to make things better.

  “No, it’s okay. I would love to travel with you, Noah.” She parks in front of the house and stares at the car ahead. Her skin is pale, and she’s blinking rapidly, then not at all.

  My heart sinks, and I scoot over to her. “What is wrong with you, Red? Please tell me so I can make it better.” I reach under her chin and bring her head to the side to look into my eyes. Hers are wide, and I think I see tears in them.

  “Hey, don’t cry. I’m sorry about my fucked-up parents and that I was arrested. If you think I’m some undercover thug, I’m not. Just an unlucky asshole who has a target on his back. Please. Don’t cry.” I thumb away the tears underneath her large eyes.

  “I’m sorry, I was just…” Her voice wavers as she sniffles. She wipes a hand across her eyes and offers me a small smile that does nothing to soothe the worry I feel in my veins. “I just
love you so much, Noah. More than I ever thought I could.”

  I beam. “I love you too, Red.” I lean down to hug her before I head inside, when she leans up and smashes our lips together. I’m momentarily shocked because I usually initiate the kisses unless we’re in motels or hotels. But I’m not complaining.

  I kiss her with the same ferocity she does me. I cup her face and she holds my shoulders. Our mouths part and I feel her hum contentedly. I rub her back and bring her closer. I savor her strawberry-flavored Chapstick and cigarette-soaked tongue. I move to pull her on me when she pulls away quickly.

  But before she can turn to the wheel, she stares deeply into my eyes and whispers against my bruised, parted lips, “I love you.”

  I smile and peck her puffy lips. “I love you too.”

  We kiss one last time, but this one is simpler. I give her one last concerned look over my shoulder but get out when she gives me a simple nod. I get out and glance at her. Something sad flashes in her eyes, and I move to console her again when she pulls off into the road. I stand back, still for a few moments, and watch her turn the corner.

  Well, that was nice.

  My fingertips are cold against my lips as I walk up to the house. Inside, it’s dark and empty. Everyone is out partying at another fraternity, celebrating our win. They would have partied here, but I guess no one wanted to risk getting caught for smoking weed when one of their star players got arrested for selling crack cocaine. Supposedly, though. I swear I’ve never even seen the drug in my life.

  Sighing, I jog up the stairs. I’m on the last step when I hear a creak in the floorboards. I stop and feel a pause in the air. That’s strange…maybe someone stayed back. Jogging up the rest of the way, I call out, “Yo! Anyone here?”

  I get no response.

  Okay. Weird.

  Deciding I’m hearing things, I flip out my phone and begin to text Rachel to see where she is so I can join when I feel a presence. My heart begins to beat, alerting me I am not alone. I turn around quickly, expecting to find someone. But there’s no one there. I look around, craning my neck to squint in the dark. No one.