Accepting the Deal (Honeyton Alexis): (Signed with a Kiss, #1)

by Sorensen, Jessica

  Accepting the Deal (Honeyton Alexis)

  (Signed with a Kiss, #1)

  Jessica Sorensen

  Accepting the Deal

  Jessica Sorensen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Sorensen

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

  For information: jessicasorensen.com

  Cover design by Najla Qamber Designs

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Alexis

  2. Alexis

  3. West

  4. Alexis

  5. Alexis

  6. West

  7. West

  8. Alexis

  9. Alexis

  10. Alexis

  11. West

  12. Alexis

  13. Alexis

  14. West

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Also by Jessica Sorensen

  1

  Alexis

  I started to wonder if people can break on the inside but remain completely put together on the outside. Not that I believe I’m put together on the outside. No, I can be a hot mess. But I don’t care about how my hair is styled or if the clothes I wear are trendy.

  I’m not really talking about clothes or hair, though. I’m talking about the people who appear to have it all together, like nothing can bother them, as if they can handle anything. And it’s always in their faces. That indifference. That I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-anything look in their eyes. Just glancing at them, you’d think they had fantastic lives. But really, can you tell that just from looking at someone? I used to believe so. I used to believe everyone showed who they are.

  I also used to be really naïve.

  Not anymore.

  Now I understand that people wear masks to conceal what’s really going on inside. I have my own on now, and I wear it all the time. It’s not sparkly or pretty but created from a neutral mask of indifference. When I put it on, no one can see underneath it. No one can see the pain crawling around inside me, underneath my skin.

  “Oh God, here we go again,” my friend Masie says from the lounge chair across from mine, drawing me from my thoughts. It’s the start of spring break, and she has decided that we need to spend a lot of time hanging out and tanning. Not that I can actually tan without burning. “Seriously, Lex, you need to just tell him how you feel.”

  I blink at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She gives me a tolerant look. “I know you were thinking about Blaine. You always are whenever you get that look on your face.”

  In her simple statement, my point is proven—my mask is hiding everything inside me. All my dark thoughts. My emotions. My pain. Who I am now versus who I used to be.

  “Sorry, but sometimes I can’t help thinking about him,” I lie, readjusting my sunglasses.

  It’s not like I don’t sometimes think of Blaine. I do. Just not as much as Masie thinks I do. But there’s a good reason why she believes that.

  Blaine has been my friend for years, and I’ve had a crush on him that dates back past what I like to refer to as Before, which is the time when my parents were still alive. Everything that happened after that, I refer to as Nothing, because that’s how it feels. Like nothing matters anymore, except for a few small things that I haven’t let go of yet.

  Blaine is one of those things. But mostly because the way I feel about him hasn’t changed.

  Deep down, I know I should let go of my feelings for him; let go of him. Just let everything go so I can just stop feeling any goddamn thing. Become a numb shell of a person. It’ll be easier that way. It’s easier to feel nothing than feeling everything, like I used to. I used to let feelings own me. Control me. And it was a weakness that nearly broke me. Let them near break me.

  “Why do you make everyone in school suffer by having to look at your ugly face?” Jay, one of the most popular guys in school, laughs at me.

  Him and his friends are crowding around me in the hallway. It’s still early enough that hardly anyone is around—thank God. The last thing I want is for someone to witness my humiliation.

  “We should make you wear a paper bag over your face so no one has to look at you,” he adds with a smirk as he steps toward me.

  I step back even though I don’t want to and wrap my arms around myself, wishing I were invisible. Wishing he hadn’t noticed me. I don’t know why he did and, at first, I thought he liked me, since he asked me out. But I turned him down because I’m not interested in him. I’m interested in my friend Blaine.

  When I turned Jay down, he laughed in my face and told me he was only kidding but that it was cute I actually believed he wanted to go out with me. Ever since then, him and his friends have taken every opportunity to remind me of how ugly and unwanted I am.

  I hate it. Hate that I’m starting off my freshman year with some of the most popular guys hating me. I don’t remember Jay being this awful in middle school, but maybe he’s acting this way because he has friends that are older and it makes him feel cool.

  Or maybe I really am just that ugly and pathetic as they say I am.

  One of Jay’s friends steps up beside him and gives me an exaggerated once-over. “We should make her cover up her body, too, so we don’t have to look at her gangly ass anymore.”

  “And her flat chest,” another of Jay’s friends sneers, seeming pretty pleased with himself. “Seriously, why does she even bother wearing a bra?”

  Jay rubs his jawline as he muses over something. Then a wicked grin pulls at his lips. “Maybe she doesn’t.” He suddenly reaches for me.

  Panicking, I spin to hurry away, but one of his other friends steps in front of me and blocks my path. I start to reel back around the other way when Jay grabs the back of my bra through my shirt and tugs hard. So hard the clasp snaps.

  “Nope, she’s actually wearing one,” he sneers.

  Tears burn my eyes as I wrap my arms around myself, covering up and running away with their laughter hitting my back …

  My eyes burn against the sunlight as the memory sears my mind. What sucks is it’s not even the worst thing they did to me. I was that weak.

  Not anymore, though.

  I’ve never told anyone all the details of how deeply Jay and his friends bullied me. And they would always do it when hardly anyone was around, so reporting them was complicated. I tried a couple of times, but a lot of Jay’s friends were the football stars in our school so that didn’t go over well. No proof, no crime. At least, that’s how our vice principal saw it.

  I did confess to Masie that they were being jerks to me but never told her the entire story, partly out of embarrassment and partly because I knew she wouldn’t understand. Masie has always had an easier time getting along with people and guys practically line up to date her.

  She also can’t seem to see me for what I really am.

  Take for instance, the conversation we had a couple of years ago, right after I
told her a little bit about what was going on with Jay and his friends. She had tried to convince me that the best way to get over it was to go to this pool party with her and rock a bikini so everyone would see how hot I was.

  I had smiled and rolled my eyes. “There’s no way in hell I’m wearing a bikini.”

  She sighed. “Oh, Lex, when will you start seeing things for what they really are?”

  I shrug. “I do.”

  She sighed again. “I blame books. You read too much, and it messes with your sense of reality.”

  “My sense of reality is fine,” I replied. Seriously, did she just say I read too much? Jesus, Masie. “And what does that even have to do with wanting to wear a bikini? Maybe it’s just not my thing. Not every girl wants to wear one.”

  “It’s not just the bikini,” she said. “It’s the clothes you wear. Seriously, you cover so much up. And you can be so shy sometimes. You hardly talk to people at parties. And don’t even get me started on dating.”

  I hated when she did this, listed all my bad qualities. Sometimes I called her out on it, but that usually just let to her listed off more. “I haven’t even gone on a date in a year.”

  “Exactly,” she said, as if it proves some hidden point. “Look, we’ve been friends forever, so trust me when I tell you that all that shit you went through our freshman and sophomore year messed with your head. But you’re not that girl anymore. You just need to realize it and start letting other people see it. You know, let your wall down or whatever.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet,” I joked, mostly to annoy her. “But if you’re about to ask me out on a date, I’m going to have to decline. Not because I don’t like you and think you’re not pretty; I just don’t swing that way.”

  She sighed. “Oh, Alexis.”

  She said that a lot when she was frustrated with me. She reminded me of my mom when she does it, but if I ever told her that, she’d get pissed…

  I swallow hard at the thought of my mom. No matter how hard I try not to think about my parents, about the day they died, sometimes it creeps up on me.

  It happened because of a car accident, and I made a vow that day to not deal with the pain, because not dealing with the pain meant I had control over myself. And that’s what I need. Control. To never let anyone see me weak and crying on the bathroom floor…

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” The sound of Jay’s voice rising over my soft sobs makes me tense.

  I start to push up from the bathroom floor when a foot comes down on my back—

  “Earth to Alexis.” Masie waves her hand in front of my face. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  I blink, forcing the memory from my thoughts. But pain still simmers underneath my flesh and vomit burns in the back of my throat.

  Stop thinking about that day.

  Just stop.

  Turn it off.

  It’s in the past and that’s not part of you anymore.

  I take a deep breath and then another, the simmering slowly fading from my body until all I feel is numb.

  Just the way I like it.

  “Um, sure,” I lie, looking at her. I literally have no idea what she said.

  She draws down her sunglasses and narrow her eyes at me accusingly.

  I sigh. “Fine. I didn’t hear you. I was just thinking about … something.”

  She cocks her brow. “About Blaine?”

  “No.” Which is the truth, but I’m glad that’s where she thinks my thoughts are. She doesn’t need to know what’s really going on in my head.

  She doesn’t need to know about that stupid day where I was so weak and broken.

  She rolls her eyes. “Sure you aren’t.”

  “I’m telling the truth.” I flip the page of the mystery book I’ve been trying to read for the last hour.

  “Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and slides her sunglasses back on. “You might want to put on some more sunscreen. You’re starting to get a little bit pink.” She glances down at her legs. “I’ve got an awesome tan going, though.” She smirks at me. “Bet you’re so jealous.”

  I just smile because that’s what she wants me to do. Not that I don’t envy her ability to get tan.

  Masie is the opposite of me. Her tanned always seems to glisten and never burn. Add that to her sun-kissed blonde hair and curvy body, she’s practically a beach goddess. And then there’s me: long, dark brown, nearly black hair; pale skin with a few freckles here and there; tall; and slightly on the gangly side. I look like I belong in a basement or a crypt. That’s okay, though. The look doesn’t bother me. It might have back in the day when I used to wear a lot of pink and glittery things and used to let people like Jay and his friends affect me. But after everything, I became a new person, became the darkness that took over me when mine and my brothers’ and sisters’ lives shattered. Became the girl that lied on that bathroom floor and broke in front of them. I became a person who wears a lot of black and studded clothing and who would never, ever be caught dead wearing anything sparkly. I became the opposite of what I was when I felt alive.

  Dead. I feel dead sometimes.

  Dead in a crypt.

  Where I feel nothing.

  “What’s dead in a crypt?” Masie asks confusedly as she reaches for her glass of lemonade that’s on the table between us.

  I frown. “I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”

  “Yeah, well, you did.” She takes a sip of the drink then sets the glass down. “You know, you talk to yourself a lot.”

  “And you say that a lot.”

  “Touché.” She grins.

  I mirror her grin, but it’s fake—most of my smiles are. But then I frown when the back gate to her house creaks open.

  Bolting upright, I reach for my towel to cover up.

  “Don’t you dare.” Masie sits up and snatches the towel from my hands.

  “Give it back,” I growl, lunging at her.

  Grinning, she jumps up from the lounge chair and skitters toward the diving board.

  The gate is around the corner of her two-story brick house, so I don’t have a view of who’s coming back here. The last thing I want is for her younger brother, the pool cleaner, the landscapers, or anyone else to see me rocking these black boy short bottoms, embroidered with stars, and a matching top. My belly, legs, cleavage—what I have, anyway—and even the bottom of my ass cheeks are on display.

  “Masie …” I warn as I hurry toward her. “If you don’t give me my towel back, I’ll …”

  She hops onto the diving board with my towel in her hand. “You’ll what?” She inches toward the edge.

  “I’ll …” As panic and anger set in, I rack my brain for a vicious threat, my gaze skimming the backyard, the pool, the lounge chairs. When I spot the high-heeled, designer shoes she wore out here, an idea strikes me. I turn around. “I’ll throw your shoes in the pool.”

  Her teasing grin fades. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wanna bet?” I pad over to the lounge chair, pick up her shoes, then walk to the edge of the pool, dangling her pretty footwear that I could never afford over the water. She knows I’ll do it, too. “Now, come on; give me back my towel.”

  She eyes the shoes then sighs as she backs up. “Fine. But please just step away from the water. You’re making me nervous.”

  I take a few steps back, remaining close enough in case she backs out of our agreement.

  Frowning, she makes her way off the diving board and climbs down the ladder. As her feet plant on the concrete, the back-gate intruder rounds the house.

  Suddenly, her younger brother, the pool boy, or the landscapers don’t seem that terrible of options, because the person who enters the backyard is none other than Blaine.

  Several different emotions run through me, from lust, to want, to self-consciousness. I hate that I feel this way. Hate that I still care about stuff. And I try to shove the feelings away, mentally burn them with my mind, but it doesn’t work.

  As Blaine walks cl
oser, I take in his light brown hair that’s styled in a messy sort of way and his board shorts and a green shirt …

  Wait. Back the hell up. He’s wearing board shorts, which means someone must have invited him over here to swim. And since this lovely, two-story, swimming pool palace belongs to only one person …

  I narrow my eyes at Masie. She flashes me an innocent look before a devious grin spreads across her face.

  That little shit. She did this on purpose—invited him over right after she convinced me to wear this stupid bikini. Why, though? To humiliate me? Because that’s about how I feel right now. Granted, she probably doesn’t think this is humiliating. She probably believes she’s doing me a favor. That if Blaine sees me in all my glorious, gangly-ass, hanging out form, we’d have one of those guy-realizes-his-best-friend-is-really-beautiful-underneath-the-punk-clothes-and-unbrushed-hair moments. That’s not going to happen, though, for several reasons.

  “Since when do you wear a bikini?” Blaine asks, giving me a weird, confused look.

  I shrug, discreetly wrapping my arms around myself. “Masie made me wear it.”

  A pucker forms at his brow as his gaze sweeps up and down my body, and not in a holy-hell-she-looks-sexy way, but in a what-is-this-strange-creature-before-me way. I hug my arms tighter around myself.

  “You look”—he wavers—“weird.”

  “I know. That’s what I told Masie.” I pretend to be calm, but hurt prickles through my façade, which annoys the hell out of me.

  Stop feeling shit, Alexis. Just stop it. Who cares if he doesn’t think you look hot? It shouldn’t matter. Nothing should. Where is the tough girl you’ve worked so hard to be? Bring her out. Make her take over.

  Become numb.

  “I think she looks great,” Masie says, whacking Blaine in the gut. “And you should, too.”