by Tijan
Zeke stood at the edge of the tables, a cup in his hand and his jaw in a firm scowl. He looked ready to march over and beat us down.
Cross laughed low. “He hates the thought of me. I bet he never considered that you and I might get along one day. Why would he? We can’t stand each other, but he doesn’t know what you and I both know.” His eyes turned my way, growing more wary. “We’re stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. You ain’t stuck with that prick.”
I wanted to rub my hand over my face with my middle finger. I refrained. “You getting to a point? Because I’m about at the end of my patience.”
“No point. I just liked stopping you to talk and making your boy all jealous. He came to one of our parties and leered at Bren. Turnabout is fair play, and I’m going to love screwing with him. He hates the thought of losing you as a friend.” He paused, frowning. “Why does he got such a hard-on for you anyway? I saw your confrontation, and we’ve been hearing, even in Roussou, how you’re starting to challenge him. Your boy is a bully. No way is he going to let this go for long, and what then? He gets all his boys to beat you up?”
I stilled.
What the hell?
Was he…?
Yeah. He was.
I winked at him, knowing it’d piss him off. “So that’s what you fuckers are nervous about? That my best friend might give me a beatdown and what? You’ll have to rally for me? ’Cause we’re brothers?”
Cross clenched his jaw. “’Cause Tasmin would never forgive me if I let that go, and yeah, I’ve been to war with your school already. I want an easy summer with my guys and Bren. That’s it. You getting your ass beat by your crowd won’t bode well for us.”
I rolled my eyes and patted his shoulder. “Then you’re off the hook. I get my ass beat, don’t worry. I won’t be calling you for vengeance. I’ve got a whole group of boys in New York who will gladly hop a flight out here to have my back. Unlike you, I don’t have just three people to back me up.” My tone turned mocking. “I have ten times that amount.”
With that, I got in my Wagon and pulled out.
My words echoed in my ears, and I tightened my hold on the steering wheel.
My words had sounded good. They’d sounded confident, but they were empty. I might be able to wrangle up a group to have my back, but that wasn’t the point. Zeke wasn’t the bad guy Cross thought he was, but he wasn’t a great guy either. That’s where I understood him when no one else did, because he and I were the same.
We weren’t all bad.
There were pockets of good in us.
Or maybe that’s just what I told myself as I turned my car toward Aspen’s house.
20
Aspen
Knock, knock!
Keys and phone in hand, backpack on, I paused in my room. I’d been about to head to the store. There was a new camping security system I wanted to check out before buying.
“Yes?”
Miss Sandy opened the door, a frown on her face.
She’d been frowning most the week. I was sure she was on to me and my whole “sickness,” but she’d never said a word. She kept doting on me. I got hot packs, warm washcloths, and tea. I got bowls of chicken noodle soup, boxes of Kleenex, cough drops, medicine for nighttime, and medicine for daytime. You name it, I got it, so I was feeling all sorts of guilt. But my parents were still in LA, so I only had a few more days until I was in the clear.
“Miss Sandy! Hi.”
Her eyes traveled over my jeans, sandals, and tank top.
I was busted.
But after a small sigh, all she said was, “There’s a young man at the gate asking to come see you.”
I frowned. A young man? Blaise? “Oh.”
It was daytime, so he would’ve gotten Mr. Carl at the gate. That meant Tucker truly hadn’t put Blaise’s name on the list, which was cool of Tucker, but not so cool now.
I bit my lip, tugging at one of my backpack straps. “I’m feeling better, so I was going to go to the store. I’ll just talk to him out there.”
“We should tell him to wait?”
I nodded. “Yeah.” I slipped past her and hurried down the hallway. “See you tomorrow, Miss Sandy. I’ll be back later, and I might be worn out, ’cause I’m probably not back to a hundred percent.” Cough, cough.
I was such a shitty actress, which was ironic, considering my parents.
Then I was down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out to the garage. My parents had taken my dad’s vehicle, so my mom’s was still in the first stall. She always got the first stall because she said if she brought groceries home, she needed close access to the kitchen.
I couldn’t remember the last time she went grocery shopping, but it was what it was. She got the first stall.
I headed past the next three empty stalls to Maisie.
When I got to the front gate, Carl pointed me over to the side.
Blaise’s G Wagon was parked and Blaise was waiting beside the road.
He jogged over, and I tried not to ogle, but damn, he looked good.
He tapped on my window.
I rolled the window down. “Hey. I was headed out anyway and figured it’d be easier this way. Miss Sandy didn’t seem too approving.”
He nodded, his hands going into his pockets. “Where are you going?”
I hesitated, but this was me. I had to be me. “There’s some new camping gear at Holliston. I wanted to check it out, see if they had the new security system.”
He frowned, his head tilted to the side, and I sighed on the inside because even that looked good on him.
“Let’s take Maisie back, and I’ll drive,” he said.
“What?”
“Come on.” He tapped my window again, grinning—and my word, there was a dimple there. A dimple, folks. A dimple!
“I’ll follow you through, and then we can hang out.” His eyes darkened. His grin turned wolfish. “I need some Aspen time. Badly.”
I frowned, a little kick of concern tightening my throat, but I nodded.
He jogged back to his car, and I pulled around to explain the plan to Mr. Carl. He gave me a tight nod as his gaze looked back at Blaise. When we got to the house, I pulled Maisie into the driveway and hurried down to the road.
Blaise had brought his Wagon around, so I slipped in on the passenger side.
That’s when the nerves hit me.
I liked riding in Maisie, and getting in Blaise’s Wagon, I got all tongue-tied. This was a boy that had kissed me, made me explode, and I was in his vehicle. He was driving, and we were going to hang out. Was this an appropriate time to confess that I’d never been on a date?
Would he look at me weird?
Because I felt weird. I felt all sorts of what the hell am I doing? Blaise was so out of my league.
“Did you come from a party?” I asked.
He turned toward the gate, easing slowly so Carl could open it for us. “Huh?”
“What’d you do today?”
He glanced at me, then did a double take, his eyes narrowing. “What’s up with you?”
My stomach tanked. “What?”
“What do you mean what? Something’s up with you. You’re looking at me like my fingers have not been inside of you and I’m not sitting here hoping my dick will follow one of these days. Just spell it out.”
Jesus Christ. Forget my stomach tanking. He just brought his foot down hard on my stomach. I felt squashed, then the anger started in.
“You’re such a prick! You can’t talk to me like that.”
“Like what?” Both his eyebrows were up, but so were the corners of his mouth. He tried to hide his smile with his hand. “I’m being honest. I want to bang you. Badly. Most girls would love hearing that from me.”
“Well—” I jerked forward, but then I stopped.
I did like hearing that.
I leaned back in my seat, grumbling, “You made me feel squashed, and now I’m, like, loving what you’re saying? How messed up am I?”
I was starting to get it, and I was shocked at the suddenness of it, but this hug felt nice.
It felt really nice.
I melted into my seat as he murmured into my neck, “You have these long legs that I daydream about winding around my waist. Your rack is honestly perfect for me, and not to mention just you.” He wasn’t doing anything except rubbing my ass, but my body was burning up. An inferno built between my legs, and he just kept talking, stoking that fire. “You’re unbelievably sweet. And pure. And chaste. And you’re smart. And you’re kickass because you do your own thing. You’re funny in a cute way, and I love how you’ll be biting your lip, and then I’ll say some smartass comment, and you burst alive—like a bomb or something—and then you’re all about putting me in my place and trying to make me a better person.”
He eased his head back, his eyes finding mine, and the seriousness in them took my breath. “Whatever the fuck this is between us, it’s not just taking you by storm.” His eyes fell to my mouth. “I called you my woman today.”
My heart pounded. “You did?” I felt the drumming in my sternum.
He nodded, his voice hoarse. “Yeah, and I never took it back. I didn’t even want to, because fuck—I want you to be my woman. Will you be my woman?”
My mouth opened and hung there. Not even a full week ago, he’d been saying he couldn’t do a relationship. I didn’t have time to voice my thoughts before he groaned and pulled away.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m all over the place. A week ago, I didn’t want to date anyone. Five days ago, I promised you I wouldn’t touch anyone—but nothing else—and I’ve spent the night with you twice, plus most of Sunday. Today, I had to force myself to stay away from you because I know once I’m in your presence, I won’t want to leave, like, ever. School is going to suck tomorrow, and now I’ve sprung this on you? I’m sorry. I really am.”
Oh.
My.
God.
I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t think. I could only feel, and my heart and vagina were throbbing in unison. I was one giant, aching organ, needing to be touched.
I had never experienced anything like this.
This guy had just said some of the most honest—a bit crass at times—and extremely romantic things to me, and I could only gape.
Then I lunged for him. My hands found his head, and my mouth was on his.
Someone growled (that was me) and he said, “Hell yeah.”
He moved his seat backward and brought me over to straddle him. I went right to grinding on him, and his hands moved inside my shirt. His fingers found my breasts as our tongues began a dance together.
I was buzzing for him.
My vagina was singing a melody.
I just wanted him.
“Shit, babe,” he whispered against my mouth, but I soon shut him up.
He was quiet for a long time, and I was blind with emotion. It pulsated through me. Need. Want. Desire. And when I felt his fingers moving inside of me, I hissed like I’d just gotten water after seven days of thirst.
It felt so fucking good.
I rode his hand, and he groaned, moving me until his fingers were so deep that I threw my head back, my hips blindly answering that need to explode. And then I did, and I was a mess. I came apart, literally. I started crying on his lap.
“Hey. Hey.” He ran his free hand over my face, sliding my hair from my cheeks. His voice was so soft and tender, crooning to me as if I were a broken baby bird. I couldn’t handle it. A whole other burst of sobs erupted from me, and he cursed and undid his seatbelt.
Yeah. That’d all transpired with his seatbelt in place.
“Come on.” He lifted me in his arms, guiding me to the backseat.
I climbed back there and waited in a corner until he was next to me. He scooped me up, bringing me back to his lap, and he folded himself around me, kissing little kisses under my chin.
“What’s wrong?”
I kept crying, but the part of my brain that was still operating knew he hadn’t gotten off, and I reached for his jeans. I started to unzip them, but he grabbed my hand with a soft chuckle.
“If you think I’m going to let you touch me when you’re sobbing, think again. I’m not that kind of guy.” He nuzzled my neck and pushed some more of my hair back. “Come on. Tell me what’s going on. Who do I need to beat up? I’ll do it. I’ll even call Bren to help. I think she has a woman crush on you. She’s pretty fierce about you not being hurt.”
I stopped crying, his words surprising me. “What?”
“Yeah.” He grinned, his eyes darkening. “Cross warned me, said Bren only cares about five people. And if I hurt you, she’s going to slice me.”
“What?!”
“You didn’t know? She’s scary. Zeke’s got a hard-on for her because she’s so scary. He actually likes when people challenge him.”
Oh God. Now he was talking about his best friend! Anxiety spiked my pulse, and he felt it. He smoothed his hand up under my shirt, laying it over my heart. “What’s this about?”
I shifted on his lap, trying to slide off, but he tightened his hold.
“Tell me,” he nudged.
I opened my mouth. What was I going to say?
Then I just blurted it out. “I have self-esteem issues.”
He frowned, his head resting against the seat. “Everyone does, don’t they?”
I shook my head, focusing on his chest. I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. I grabbed his shirt, fisting it. “Not like me. Not like… I hide from people, but it’s not because of them. It’s just easier for me to handle life that way.”
I was horrified. I’d never actually thought about why I did things. I just did things. And yet I’d just explained it out loud. With Blaise coming into my life, things weren’t making sense anymore. I couldn’t stay like this if I was going to have him in my life. It wasn’t fair for him, for anyone.
I needed to make myself better.
“I went to therapy.” I looked up, and I almost fell apart, seeing the somberness in his gaze. “When my parents sent us to Hillcrest, I had problems. I don’t really remember everything I did, but they said I was dealing with some attachment issues. Then Nate left, and those issues came back, but I didn’t tell my parents. The only person who knew was Owen.”
“How old were you when that happened?”
I was too young. “Seventh grade.”
There was more, more that I didn’t want to talk about.
I sagged on his lap, resting against his chest. I felt his fingers sliding through my hair, smoothing down my back.
I spoke into his shirt. “I have problems believing people want to be around me. And, something else happened.”
Blaise went rigid.
I didn’t like talking about this, but he had to know. He had to know to understand.
“Aspen?” His voice was so soft.
It was my undoing.
“Aspen, what happened?”
I couldn’t look at him. I kept looking at at his shirt. It was safe there, no judgement there.
“Aspen?”
“It’s nothing like what you’re thinking.” I looked up. I had to. He had to see.
His eyes grew soft, matching his voice. “I don’t think you know what I’m thinking.”
Yeah. True.
“There was a teacher once. She—uh—they told me later that she was unhinged. I don’t remember her like that, but she was my teacher.” This was hurting. Seriously hurting. “She, just, she started asking me questions about my parents, personal questions. She asked about Nate. She asked
a lot, and then one day, my parents pulled me from Hillcrest. I went to a school in Europe for a while.”
His eyebrows dipped. “Why Europe?”
“They told me later that she had made threats against me. She was trying to get money from my parents. I got sent away when it started. There was a whole investigation launched, and she was fired, but she was popular with the other students. They blamed me, and when I came back, it didn’t go away for a long time.”
God.
That hurt.
My chest felt ripped open.
Saying those words, hearing them, I was embarrassed.
“Hey.” He leaned back, tipping my head up. His eyes were fierce, his mouth set in a determined line. “The teacher thing is messed up. You know that wasn’t your fault. Right?”
I nodded. “I know.”
But the effect didn’t go away.
He sighed. “You’re not saying, but I can only imagine what the others said to you, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry you went through that.” He cupped the side of my face and leaned forward, his forehead resting against mine. “I can’t speak for what happened to you in the past, but I can speak for now. I will be a dick. Okay? Like, full disclosure here. I know I will be a dick, because I just am. I will try not to be. I never want to hurt you, but it’s my default setting. So far I’m not that guy with you, and I will always try to be better. I’m sure I’ll slip and the D will come out. Having said that, I’m an honest dick, so if I skate on you or leave you and you’re feeling your stuff about me, ask me. Okay? I will be honest. You never have to worry or wonder where I am. I’m brutally honest, though maybe that’s a good thing with you and me, huh?”
I grasped his wrist. My heart pounding harder, more sure. “Do you promise? You’ll always be honest?”
“I will, even if it hurts you. I’ll be honest.”
He wasn’t telling me pretty, fake words. He wasn’t saying he’d always be there for me. He wasn’t saying he’d never leave, but honesty was big. I could work with honesty. I could handle the truth, no matter how much his answer might hurt.