While I’m waiting for Chasm, I pace the foyer, wondering if I’m being an idiot, if I’m about to fall into some sort of trap. What if he tells Tess my plans? What if this whole thing is a setup? Unfortunately, I’m too desperate and too shit outta luck to do much else.
Maxine is worth the risk.
I lift my head up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, a readymade lie resting on my tongue in case it’s Tess. Instead, it’s Chas, dressed up and looking pretty in black pants, a too-tight t-shirt, and sneakers that may very well be those Lil Nas X ones that caused a lawsuit.
The way my heart beats when I see him annoys me; the way my palms sweat when his lightning bolt colored hair falls across his forehead infuriates me.
Chasm doesn’t say a word, just grabs my sweaty hand and yanks me into the garage before anyone sees us. Once again, my hand tingles and I shove it into the pocket of my black and white striped overalls to silence my rebellious skin. Too many teenage hormones, that must be it. When it comes to love interests, I’m choosy but I’m not a nun.
Chasm heads over to a sleek black sportscar on the far end of the four-car garage that I’d assumed belonged to Tess or Paul.
“Whose car is this?” I ask warily, unwilling to borrow someone else’s vehicle for our getaway. If Tess discovers me missing again, she’ll be upset of course. But tack on a stolen car? No thank you.
Chasm snorts.
“It’s mine,” he says, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the vehicle as I scramble to catch up. I won’t be left behind, not today. The thought of seeing Maxine is the only thing keeping me sane right now.
I slide in just as Chasm presses a button on his visor and the garage door starts to open behind us.
It occurs to me as Chasm starts to back out that I won’t necessarily have a ride home.
“Are you coming back then?” I ask as he starts up a song and turns the volume up too loud. Warriors by Imagine Dragons blasts out as I choke back a small knot of worry. After Tess’ reaction last time, I’m not so sure this is a good idea. That, and we have to drive right through the mess of reporters yet again.
“When the fuck will they give up?” Chasm murmurs, blasting out the gate and speeding right past them.
Once we’re clear, I let out a sigh and Chasm turns the volume down a blissful few notches.
“If you’re expecting a ride back, I hate to disappoint you, but I’ve got other shit to do before the party tonight.” Chasm’s pretty jaw clenches as he flicks his gaze over to mine. A bit of that mischievous glint I saw earlier is back, sparkling like fool’s gold in his amber eyes.
Ah, he wasn’t planning on telling me that, that he wouldn’t be able to give me a ride back. Too bad for him I don’t care. Maxine can drive me back and drop me outside the gate. Even if I have to fight through reporters to get back in, I’ll do it. Tess gave me a list of codes and passwords for the house and Wi-Fi that I’ve got saved on my phone. Surely the gate code is in there.
As far as the party goes, I know all about it thanks to Danyella. I found her on social media, so we’ve been chatting for the past week. If I weren’t grounded, I might even go, even if high school parties aren’t really my scene.
“I’ll be fine on my own,” I say, leaning back in the leather seat as Chasm takes turns far too quickly, making me sweat a bit. Jesus.
“Look at you,” he whistles, hands tightening around the wheel as the right corner of his mouth quirks up. “What a rebel.”
“What do you have against me anyway?” I ask, and he shrugs loosely. It’s impossible to miss how nicely his white t-shirt clings to his lean body or how the sleeves are bunched just enough to allude to a recent change in muscle mass. The shirt is too small for sure.
I look back at the road.
“You’ve got that snooty East Coast snob thing going on,” he says, and my mouth drops open.
“Me?” I choke out as we weave through street after street of mansions, a sigh escaping me when I spot my first normal middle-class house. Real people, thank god. “I am not snooty. I’m not the one driving a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car and attending a high school that requires parents to send in applications for their fucking infants.”
The heat in my voice surprises me. It seems to surprise Chasm, too. For a moment, he says nothing at all.
“Actually, you do attend that school,” he says, almost thoughtfully. “A school that doesn’t allow anyone in if they have the audacity to slip up in middle school—even if their parents got that application in a decade and a half ago.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off and I frown.
“But look at you, the celebrity with the mother that cares so much that she never stopped looking, the one that wrote a book about you, the one that fought tooth and nail to bring you home, and all you can do is hate her.”
“You must understand at least a little how I feel,” I snap back, feeling my skin get hot and tight. “Don’t you miss your grandma? How about Korea? I moved across the country; you moved across the world. Was there no culture shock?”
“I’m not the one whining and bitching about my rise from pauper to princess,” he says, waving a dismissive hand my way. “Don’t compare us. Trust me, Little Sister: we are nothing alike.”
“You’re right,” I say, letting my hands fall to my thighs with a slap. “We aren’t. I have a personality, interests, dreams. All you talk about are girls and how many notches you’ve got on your belt.”
Chasm squeezes the steering wheel even tighter, knuckles going white, and I know that I’ve struck a nerve, just as I intended. Immediately, I regret it. See, that’s the thing with me: I can’t decide who it is that I am anymore. The Dakota Banks I know would never try to pick at someone’s scab just to get a reaction out of them, yet I can’t seem to stop myself from doing it now.
“Sorry that you can’t be one of them?” he quips back at me, recovering quickly. “Now that I’ve seen the real you, I think Parrish was right. Three, three and a half with heavy makeup and an expert hairstylist.”
“Screw you,” I breathe, but it’s all I can manage to get out. He turns the volume back up on the music, mumbling something under his breath in Korean. I think he just said ‘suit yourself’ or ‘do whatever you want’. Either way, it was a clear dismissal.
I can’t get out of that car fast enough when we pull up to the curb. I’m about to slam the door when I realize that, despite Chasm’s lack of empathy toward me, I still owe him a thank you.
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him, trying on a smile that actually seems to stick. But not because of him. All I can think is that I’m about to see my sister—my real sister—and that I can use her phone to call my grandparents. Maybe if I tell them how much I hate it here they can … well, I don’t know, but just hearing their voices would mean a lot to me right now. “I really appreciate it.”
“Sure thing,” Chasm says, lighting up a cigarette and then grinning as he spots someone out the windshield. I turn just in time to see Lumen striding our way, dressed like she’s on her way to a date. A very odd, very misplaced bolt of jealousy stabs me right through the gut.
The hell is that about? Chasm can marry Lumen and carry her off into the sunset for all I care. I mean, I’d feel sorry for Lumen, but that’s about the extent of it.
She pauses beside me and smiles, and the expression doesn’t seem entirely disingenuous.
“Where are you off to?” she asks, giving my outfit a once-over. I suppose I’m also dressed like I’m off on a hot date. With Chasm? I glance back at him, and the thought isn’t entirely repellant which bothers me.
He’s too rude, too much of a bully. Maybe if he were nicer, and he didn’t throw himself between me and Parrish like some sort of martyr …
“Coffee with my sister,” I say, and then add, “my real sister.” In case the idea was up for debate. Kimber is anything but a sister to me.
“Party tonight at Antonio’s,” Lumen suggests, flashing me a mischievous smile. “Par
rish said he might sneak out and come. Looks like you already beat him to that.”
She laughs and then climbs into Chasm’s car like he was there to pick her up all along. For all I know, he was.
A frown creases my lips as Lumen closes the door and then pauses, rolling the window down just long enough to grab my phone from my hands.
“Here’s my number. Text me if you decide to come.” She hands me my phone back and then laughs as Chas hits the accelerator and takes off.
I watch them go, weaving into the decent crawl of traffic on the small street outside of the café. After a moment, I turn and head inside, fully aware that I’m a half an hour too early.
I decide to order the drinks ahead of time since the place is so busy, grabbing a spot in one of the two lines.
A boy in the line to my right glances over and our eyes meet.
His are a startling green, vibrant and saturated and engaging. Mostly, they brim with a steady confidence that seems to supersede even the jewel-tone brilliance of the color. My lips part of their own accord, and it takes several slow, shudder-y breaths for me to realize that I’m gawping like an idiot.
“Hi.” He says it first which is good because when it comes to talking to potential love interests, ehh. Not one of my strong suits. Apparently, I’m an expert at insulting people though. Parrish and Chasm have taught me that.
“Hi,” I reply, feeling a bit stupid as I tuck a tendril of lime green hair behind one ear. I’m used to plugging myself into games, leaving the real world behind in favor of online interactions. But this could be good, right? It could be really good. This dude is hot as hell, way hotter than Parrish or Chasm. Well, at least as hot, and with a much better personality. I try to take it as a positive sign, some call from the universe that life in Washington doesn’t have to be completely shitty for me.
“How are their chai lattes here?” he asks me, and I can’t decide if it’s because he just thinks I’m a chai latte sort of girl or because that’s the drink that he’s into.
“Dunno,” I reply laconically, criticizing myself in my own head for not being as well-spoken as I’d planned. Get it together, Kota! This guy, whoever he is, is the complete opposite of Parrish. Instead of feeling a sudden and inexplicable hatred, I immediately feel a connection to the stranger standing opposite me. “I just moved here a week and a half ago—against my own will, I might add.”
The guy chuckles and we both move forward simultaneously in our respective lines.
“I’m here on a day trip,” he says absently, studying the menu and then shrugging. “I’m ordering drinks for the group.” He flashes me a grin, and I flash one right back, pointing at myself and drawing his attention to my Ashnikko t-shirt beneath my overalls. The grin shifts into an understanding smile.
“Same,” I reply, checking my phone briefly to see if Maxine’s responded to my text asking what her new boyfriend likes to drink.
Hates coffee. Get him a watermelon Italian soda. I’ll pay you back.
I find my gaze shifting over to the guy again. He’s watching me, and something about the way he’s staring makes my stomach flip-flop dangerously. Such a better crush than Parrish, I think to myself only to begin vehemently denying that I have a crush on my stepbrother at all. Gross. Wouldn’t that be romantic cliché cray? He’s a jerk with a jerk for a best friend and a stepmom that just so happens to be my birth mother.
I banish the thought where it belongs, to the murky waste bin of my brain. Won’t think about that ever again. Abuse isn’t love, and I’m not some hapless teen in a novel who can’t tell the difference. Besides, I really do hate the guy. Who wouldn’t, in my situation?
“What sort of day trip?” I query, just as the guy starts to turn away from me and back toward the menu on the wall above the baristas’ heads. He doesn’t look back at me, but his full lips do shift into a smile.
“Visiting a friend,” he says absently, and then frowns. “Well, I came here for a different reason, but …” He pauses to look over his shoulder, surveying the café as if he’s searching for someone in particular. “There’s a party tonight. Two of my best friends are going, and even though I graduated last year, I might pop in to check on them.”
I wonder briefly if it’s the same party that Lumen and Danyella mentioned, the one that Chasm’s going to, and that Parrish is supposedly sneaking out for.
That dick.
He was going to bail and leave me at home to pick up the pieces. I’d hate him more for it if I weren’t the one who’d already bailed out on our grounding.
“You’re in college?” I ask. It seems pretty obvious. I mean, where else would he have graduated from but high school? Still, I can’t seem to think up another question to ask. My palms are sweaty, and I’m starting to wonder if the hand of fate—which I normally don’t even believe in—isn’t involved somehow.
I’m not usually attracted to people I just met, and this guy is … well, there’s something different about him.
“Yeah, the U of O,” he says absently, and my brows go up. The line moves forward yet again. I smile. I’m about to mention Maxine and then maybe, just maybe, ask this guy for his number when he turns to me with an apologetic sort of expression on his face.
“I’m really sorry,” he says, and I end up blinking in surprise. “You seem … well, I liked you right away.” He points and grins at my shirt. “Your style, your hair, your, well, everything. But I’ve got a girlfriend, and she’s pretty awesome so …” He trails off and my stomach drops to the floor. A blush creeps over my cheeks as he offers one last smile in apology and approaches the registers.
“Can I get a chai latte, a double chocolate mocha, and—”
“A watermelon Italian soda?” I finish with a sharp stab of disappointment.
Well, crap.
I’ve just now figured out who this is.
First ‘love at first sight’ type crush I’ve ever had, and he’s taken. Not just taken, but like, blacked out of being a love interest for the rest of eternity.
The guy turns to glance at me with a raised brow, and I force another smile out, even though it hurts. What number is this now? Forced smile six billion and two? I’ve lost count at this point.
“You’re Maxx Wright, yes?” I ask and understanding dawns on him. “Dakota Banks.” I point at myself as Maxx struggles to maintain his own smile, sliding his debit card into the reader to pay for our drinks.
“Maxine’s sister,” he says, sounding almost … relieved? “No wonder I liked you straight off.”
My mouth twitches. I'm not sure if his statement is supposed to be dismissive, but it sort of feels that way in the moment. I decide to brush it off in the name of progress; silver lining is that he’s not a cheater at least. It was risky coming out here today, and I’m not going to screw up the first meeting with my sister in months over some boy.
“Yeah, must be,” I agree, albeit a bit lamely. Maxx—I still can't quite get over the guy having the same name as my sister—gives me a smile right back, one that I suspect is just as forced as my own. He tucks his card away and we move past the crowd to find an empty table in the corner to wait for our drinks. “Max,” I start, referring to my sister, and then pause as the boy's gorgeous emerald eyes slide over to mine. “Right.” I exhale and sit up straight, pushing green and black hair away from my face. “I call Maxine, Max sometimes. And well, your name is Maxx. So what should I call you? What do you and Maxine call each other?”
I'm genuinely curious. My mind briefly flashes to … other things, and I wonder if it gets awkward, calling out each other's names in the dark. My cheeks flare hot, and I shove the thought away. The last thing I want to think about is my sister getting it on with some hot guy that I actually considered asking out.
Maxx—with the two Xs—smiles back at me, his knuckles grazed and raw with what looks like a fresh injury. He's got some athletic tape wrapped around his wrist, too, making me think he must've taken a pretty nasty fall in the last few days.
> “You can call me X,” he says, his forced smile fading into something a bit more natural as he moves to explain. But I'm already two steps ahead; I get it. “It's because—"
“You have two Xs in your name. Yep.” I tap the side of my head, my own smile relaxing a bit. Who cares if the guy is gorgeous? I've got more important things to worry about. Such as getting back to New York where I belong. Or not getting caught by my overprotective bio mom. If she finds out that I've sneaked out, and then Parrish decides to sneak out … We're both going to be heading into a world of hurt when we go back to the house. I cannot for the life of me begin to call it home. For now—forever—Tess’ multimillion dollar mansion is simply ‘the house’. “I'm quick on the uptake.”
Maxx—err, X—raises his brows and then lets out a low, sultry chuckle, rife with self-confidence but free of condescension. It’s a beautiful sound, and I feel my own breath let out in a huff. No, Dakota. Bad Dakota. Sister's boyfriend. Don't act like a freaking creeper.
“I guessed that right away,” he says, cocking his head slightly to one side and teasing rough fingertips across the surface of the table. With his sun-kissed skin and the bruise on the left side of his jaw, the battered knuckles, the athletic tape, it’s quite clear that although X and I were attracted to each other initially, our interests are way off. I wouldn't, um, exactly describe myself as an outdoorsy person. More of a ‘gamer girl who reads too many books and watches too much anime and also hisses at the sun’ sort of a person. “The way your eyes take in a room, it’s obvious that your brain is going a million miles a minute. It's why I struck up a conversation when I shouldn't have.” Maxx pauses briefly as his name is called, and we both stand up to grab the drinks. “I've got it,” he volunteers, unfolding his athletic form from the vintage armchair and moving away before I can truly process what it is that he’s just said.
He started talking to me because I looked smart. Because he liked how smart I seemed.
Dear universe, please help me through this.
Fortunately, before I get a chance to dive any further into my own head, the doors to the coffee shop open and there she is, my favorite person in the entire world.
Stolen Crush Page 9
