“Proving that it wasn’t nothing,” he rasped.
“Why?” I was squirming in my driver’s seat, feeling hot and needy but knowing it couldn’t work. This could never work. I barely knew Decker, and what little I did know was that anything between us would make him resent me. I didn’t want to tear apart his friendship. I already felt like I was upheaving Lance’s life by moving to Memphis; ruining their friendship would be too much. Decker was loyal to a fault to Lance. I refused to be anyone’s dirty little secret or regret. I spent my entire life with someone that resented me, and I would rather die than experience that again.
“Because I know you want me, Blakely. It’s written all over your face. I can practically feel your heat in my palm.”
“So you’re good with your hands,” I said before removing one of my clenched fists from the steering wheel to shove him away. “But it doesn’t mean anything. Are you hot? Sure. I’m wet right now thinking about all the things your talented fingers could do while I drive us home. But I won’t be acting on it.”
Decker sucked in a gasp before pulling back to his seat. I noticed how he braced his hands under his thighs, as if forcing himself not to touch me. “Good. I was testing you,” he choked out. Guess we both were terrible liars.
“Bullshit. You want me, too. But it’s not going to happen. You love Lance like a brother. You’re about to be my goddamn teacher. If you’re insistent on having the awkward…talk about what this means, then you got it. It’s nothing. It will be nothing. It’ll lead to nothing. I’m not some immature girl you have to worry about developing a crush on you.”
I’d hoped that my little speech would make Decker relax, but he was still riled up. “Nothing,” he replied.
“Yup.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
My heart panged at his easy agreement. Despite it all, I wanted him to fight for me, as selfish as that sounded. I quickly changed the subject so as not to dwell on the pain wracking my chest. “So is this the part where you try to scare my dad off? Say he’s some hardened criminal after Lance’s money?” I asked.
“No. He proved he didn’t give a shit about Lance when he said he wasn’t his father. If he wanted his money, he’d have tried to push that. I actually think it’s admirable he came here.” Well, color me shocked. “Don’t look so surprised. If he does anything suspicious, I’ll handle it. But for now, he seems like a protective dude.”
Decker’s earlier words rang in my head. I had to fight back a smile as I spoke. “And for the record, gross about the fuck buddy comment.” Decker paled. That’s right, asshole. I hadn’t forgotten that jealous outburst. “I’ve dated older men, but he’s twice my age. Give me some credit.” I shivered for effect.
“You’ve dated older men? I find that hard to believe. Last we spoke, you said you didn’t go for old guys, remember?” Decker asked, and it wasn’t the question I was expecting.
“I was ruffling your feathers, and obviously it worked. When you’re forced to grow up at a young age, the immature bullshit loses its appeal. I prefer a man who knows what he’s doing.” I pulled into the parking garage at Lance’s loft and turned off the car, exiting with that little bit of information ringing in the air between us. Just because there would never be anything between us didn’t mean I couldn’t fuck with him.
“There’s one more thing, then I promise the talk can be over,” he choked out as I paused at the elevators.
“What?”
“Lance thinks you might have a crush on me.” He looked like he wanted to say more and pursed his lips, like it was the only thing keeping the truth back. I had half a mind to kiss him just to force his mouth open, but decided against it.
Great. Just fucking great. “And?”
“And he wants me to stay away.”
Well, that was an easy enough fix. “Sounds good to me. No more Ferris wheels. No more lingering stares. No more truths.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, then spoke again, conceding, “No more truths.”
11
Blakely
My school uniform was typical and unoriginal. I got dressed like the violent skeptic I was, pretending my lip gloss was armor, while hiding a pocket knife in my knee-high leather boots given to me by Rose. The standard uniform consisted of a plaid skirt paired with a button-up shirt that was too tight and clung to my curves.
The strangely sexualized material was too thick for this Memphis weather and scratched my skin, the coarse fibers irritating and claustrophobic. It looked straight out of a depressing school-girl porno. I half expected myself to start begging Decker to spank me as I lay across his desk.
I looked sexy in a creepy sort of way, but it was not my style. I added a little personality to the ensemble with boots that made my legs seem longer. I also made it a point to brush out my hair with cautious strokes and apply mascara.
It was the longest I’d ever taken to get ready.
If I was going to be the new student, I wanted to look beautiful. Might as well roll with the inevitable attention I’d get. Mama and I had moved a couple of times. I knew the drill.
Once, she dated a wealthy judge that lived in the Dallas suburbs. We moved into his house and lasted a total of six weeks before everything went to hell. The students there were terrible, always taunting me and calling Mama and me a two-for-one whore’s bargain. I spent most nights crying in my room until one day, I snapped.
I beat up a rich bitch that wouldn’t let up. We were kicked out of his house the next day. Judge Gray couldn’t handle a stain on his reputation. Apparently, a live-in hooker was fine, but her bratty child was too much. Mama blamed me for ruining the cushiest living situation she’d had in years.
It spoke volumes about her priorities.
After making sure I was ready for battle, I went out into the kitchen for breakfast and saw an omelet waiting on the table for me. “Morning! Happy first day of school!” my brother said, drawing me out of the tornado of self-pity and anxiety I was sucked up in. I felt like a car with its metal frame wrapped around a light pole. I guess in this scenario, he was the rescue team pulling my suit of skin off the pavement.
Lance was dancing around the kitchen, all brightness and energy. He snapped his towel against the wooden cabinets as he moved. “You made me an omelet?” I asked with a small smile, and I could practically feel the chip in my pessimistic armor grow bigger. It was the first morning I hadn’t had to choke down pancakes since getting here, aside from the breakfast Decker made me.
“Decker mentioned you might like it,” Lance replied cryptically. Oh, did he now? I wondered what else they liked to talk about. I thought Mr. Harris was supposed to keep away from me, not leak my secrets from the bottom of his Styrofoam coffee cup.
“Where is he, by the way?” I asked.
I wanted to see him, but I didn’t.
I wanted reassurance about today, but he likely wouldn’t give it.
“Probably waiting until the last minute to wake up. Decker is grieving the end of summer.”
“That makes two of us,” I replied with a chuckle. Grief was such an odd emotion. I could feel sorrow for the end of summer but couldn’t bolster enough sadness to cry over Mama.