She lets out a soft groan. "Do I have to?"
"No. You could disappoint me."
"That's such a dad thing to say."
How about I bend you over my knee and spank you? Would that be daddy enough for you? "I'm not going to push you."
She nods as she climbs up the bed and presses her back against her pillow.
She pries open the notebook. Flips through the pages. Her eyes get dreamy. Like she's lost in her own world.
She turns the page. "Okay. This one. It's short."
"Perfect for my attention span," I offer.
Her laugh is nervous. "Maybe." Her eyes bore into mine. "Promise you won't make fun of it."
I nod.
She looks to the paper. Takes a deep breath. Exhales slowly. "Another stitch.
Another time.
Another love that isn't mine.
And all the shiny people say
It's okay
You'll find another way.
But I always poke the bruise.
Spill a lie. Spin a ruse.
I could draw four aces, but, still, I'd lose."
She presses her lips together, staring at me, waiting for my response.
Something in me stirs. Something in my bones.
Fuck, I have no idea what it means.
I want to peel her open and pry her apart.
Where does she hide this ache in her heart?
How the fuck do I get my hands on it?
Her cheeks flush as she slaps her notebook together. "You hated it."
"No. It was beautiful." Not that I'd know.
"Really?" Her cheeks flush. She's embarrassed. Or scared. Or both.
"Yeah."
"Thank you." Her hand falls over my arm.
She nestles into my body, resting her forehead against my chin.
I soak in every inch of her.
Her warmth against my skin. Her breath against my neck. The smell of her shampoo—lavender and honey. Calm and sweet. Exactly like Kay.
"You okay?" I drag my fingertips over her lower back. There's no way I can sell that this is a friendly gesture. Not to her, not to myself, not to anyone else.
But I don't care.
"Yeah. Just overwhelmed. With school tomorrow. And, well... something else. But I... I don't like to talk about it." She leans closer. "I've never told anyone, not anyone who counts."
"You can tell me anything." Fuck, I want to break that lock around her heart. I want to drink her in. I want to be her salve. The stars in her sky.
"I know. But this... it would change the way you look at me."
"Impossible."
"No. It would. I... I couldn't take losing this, Brendon. You're the only person besides Em I trust. And you're more... well, you're easier to talk to. You're just..." She looks up at me. Her eyes fill with affection. Her fingers skim my stomach. The edge of my jeans.
Fuck, I want that hand around me.
I want those lips on mine.
I want to bury myself in her.
To fuck her like I've never fucked before.
It takes everything I have to pull back.
Desire is coursing through my veins. My heart is pounding. My cock is screaming for attention.
I slide off the bed. "You trust me?"
"Why?"
"You want to feel better about school?"
She nods.
"You trust me, yes or no?"
She stares back into my eyes. "Yes."
"Then get dressed."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brendon
Twenty minutes later, I'm parking my sedan on a Brentwood street and Kaylee is clutching at my forearm.
She forces her words out. "Are we really doing this?"
I nod as I pull the door open. "Call it a trial run."
She steps onto the street. Nods to the No Parking 10 PM to 6 AM sign posted in front of my car. "You're going to get a ticket."
"At three a.m.?"
"Yeah." She digs her cell—the one with the Hunger Games phone case—from her purse and stares at the screen. "It's really three a.m."
I nod.
"Why did you get home so late?"
"Walker and Dean."
"They take that long to find women to bring home?"
"Yeah." Or they were dragging it out for my benefit. Their benefit really. They both enjoy mocking my pining over the one woman I can't have state.
"Hmmm." She hugs her purse to her shoulder as she steps forward. "You sure about the car?"
"My car."
"Damn. Such an outlaw. What will you risk next?"
I flip her off.
She smiles as she returns the gesture.
I take her hand. Lead her across the small, neighborhood street. All the way to the main drag.
No lights or cross walks in any direction.
No cars either.
I turn to Kaylee. "You ready?"
She nods. Squeezes my hand and takes the first step into the street.
We run across the major road. Through the tuft of Eucalyptus trees on the other side. Over the wet green lawn.
Kaylee clutches her stomach as she doubles over with laughter. "You run fast."
"It's called exercise."
"I exercise. Just not running. Running is the devil."
"No wonder I like it so much."
She laughs. "That was bad. But funny too. I must be tired." She pushes herself up. Wipes her wet hands on her jeans.
I take them. Wipe them on my t-shirt.
Her palm lingers against my chest. She drags it over my torso as she pulls it back to her side.
Her eyes meet mine.
Her lips part.
I can see the words on the tip of her tongue.
And I'm not praying for her to hold them back.
I'm desperate for every fucking syllable.
Tell me you want me, angel.
Tell me you want me to fuck you so hard you get grass stains on your skin.
Tell me you want me to throw you on that bench, rip off your jeans, and lick you until you're screaming.
Her eyes go to the building to our left. One of the science buildings. "It's different than before."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She leads me across the campus. "It feels real. Like this is really happening tomorrow."
We move onto the sidewalk. Past the science building. "It is." Toward the foreign languages building. "I remember the first time I walked into a shop looking for a job."
"It wasn't Inked Hearts?"
"No. I met Ryan at this dive in Downtown LA. He knew Manning. Invited me to Inked Hearts. He invited Dean and Dean invited Walker."
"What was that place like?"
"It was cleaner than it looked. Very go the fuck away. Band stickers on the walls. A burly guy at the register. A bunch of elitists who scowled at tattoos that weren't traditional enough."
"And you liked that?"
"The bands, yeah. It was a lot of punk. Metal. Hardcore shit. Nobody who listened to KIIS FM would dare enter that place."
"Perfect for you."
Yeah, it was. It still is. I can't say I'm into the elitist bullshit anymore.
But the whole I'm pissed and I don't want your opinion?
I get that.
"You've been seventeen," I say.