Nolan stared at them for a moment longer, almost feeling sorry for the girl. The words ran on repeat through his mind. Hayden will do for now. Did she know that was Dorian’s attitude? That he only considered her good enough for the moment?
No one deserved to be used like that.
Nolan had been looking after his mother and two sisters since he was thirteen years old. He knew that made him a little different than others his age. Hell, just the fact that he’d experienced the death of someone close to him made him different from his entire peer group, but most guys his age didn’t usually have to act as a surrogate father to two younger sisters.
Nolan didn’t take a breath or make a move without thinking about the welfare and feelings of his sisters and mother. His father left him with that responsibility. He’d instructed Nolan to be the man of the house and take care of them. At age thirteen, he had given his word that he would do that.
He knew he wasn’t like Dorian. Not even like his best friend, Beau. They had no problem hooking up with a girl one night and then forgetting about her the next day.
Nolan, on the other hand, had been dating Priscilla since his sophomore year. She’d applied to all the same colleges he had. She was preparing for them to go to university together, and then after hitting all the proper dating milestones, Priscilla assumed they’d eventually get married. She didn’t talk about her future without him in it.
Usually, it felt good to have order and plans—his future all set. Usually.
There had been enough chaos in his past. He craved stability. Now and in his life to come.
Priscilla returned wearing her coat, flipping her auburn waves out from inside the collar. “Ready?”
He nodded. “Let’s go find my sister first.”
“She might want to stay. Her friends are here.”
He frowned at the suggestion. The party was a little rowdy and there was alcohol on the premises. He wasn’t leaving Emmaline here. He hadn’t even wanted her to come at all. But she rarely went to parties, and since she wanted to come for once, he didn’t fight her on it. “Emmaline will leave with us,” he insisted. He doubted she was enjoying herself anyway. He knew his sister. This wasn’t her scene.
Priscilla gave him a look. He knew what the look meant. It meant, You’re being too protective.
He didn’t care.
Taking Priscilla’s hand, he led her back inside the house.
The inside was even more crowded than it had been half an hour ago.
“Do you see her?” Priscilla stood on her tiptoes and tried to peer through the mass of people.
“Not yet. Come on, we’ll find her.”
They pushed ahead, getting stopped, it seemed, every other moment by someone they knew, which didn’t do much for their progress. Nolan finally had to start ignoring people to get anywhere.
At last, he found some of Emmaline’s friends. They stood huddled in a small group, looking like they weren’t having any fun, which was heartening even if it made him a bit of a jerk.
He should want his sister to enjoy herself, and he did . . . but if she was miserable here, maybe he wouldn’t have to convince Emmaline to leave at all. Maybe she was ready to go. Maybe she had learned her lesson and wouldn’t want to come to parties like this anymore.
“Hey, seen my sister?”
“No,” Monica replied a little testily. “We lost sight of her and we’re ready to go.” She motioned to the hallway. “She went off that way with Beau.”
“Oh. Okay.” Immediately, he breathed a little easier. He felt better knowing Beau was with her. Beau was more than a friend. He was like a brother. A brother to Nolan and his sisters. He was maybe even more protective than Nolan because he trusted people a whole lot less.
Nolan dug out his keys and handed them to Priscilla. He addressed the group. “Go wait in the truck. I’ll find Emmaline and then we can head to Whataburger.” Whataburger was a staple in these parts. An institution. Friday and Saturday nights it was jam-packed full of high school kids who were there as much for the socialization as for the food.
Her friends looked relieved to be leaving and immediately turned to make their way to the door.
“I can come with you,” Priscilla said, clasping his arm.
“Nah, go on. I’ll find her faster on my own. Warm the car up and we’ll meet you out there.”
She hesitated and then gave him a peck. “Okay. Hurry up though.” She patted his chest. “I’m starving. If you don’t find her, I’m sure Beau can bring her home.” With a decisive nod, she spun around. People stepped aside, parting for her and sending admiring and envying glances as she passed. Nothing new there.
He watched her go for a moment longer and then headed back into the horde himself.
No matter what Priscilla said, he wasn’t leaving this party without his sister.
Lesson #3
Sometimes holding hands is the most intimate act of all.
x Hayden x
Dorian guided Hayden from the garage, one hand on her elbow in a very proprietary manner. She didn’t know how she felt about that.
Okay, yes she did.
She didn’t need help or guiding. She could walk just fine, if not better, without his sweaty paw grasping her. She bit back her dislike and the urge to pull her arm away, telling herself not to be so prickly.
The hand on her elbow didn’t mean anything. She came here because she had a rare night off and she didn’t want to spend it at home with Mom, who was having her own rowdy night with friends. Hayden deserved some fun, and Dorian promised they would have a good time. That’s all there was to it.
His fingers slid down from her elbow to her hand, holding it as he tugged her through the crowd. This handholding business was a foreign sensation and she didn’t like that either.
Holding hands was pretty intimate stuff. She would much rather make out with a guy than hold his hand. Holding hands meant investment and commitment, and she didn’t allow herself to get invested in any guy. She wasn’t like her mom, looking for someone to save her or pay her bills or make her feel better about herself. No, for those things she relied on herself. For everything she relied on herself.
He stopped before a group of jocks and did the whole fist-bump-and-lean-in kind of thing. Man-hugging. She mentally rolled her eyes. So the party was light on the fun. Hayden scanned the room, looking for the nearest exit. She’d give Dorian another five minutes to fulfill his promise and then she was out of here.
A couple of girls hung on the jocks. They looked Hayden up and down and then exchanged telling looks with each other that conveyed she was deficient in some way.
Undaunted, Hayden smiled back at each of them, letting them know they didn’t affect her. High school was full of mean girls, but so was the world. She was way tougher than any of them. She knew what they thought of her, and she didn’t care. She’d endured worse. Life with her mother had thickened her skin.
“Um. I’m gonna go find a bathroom.” While the girls did not make her uncomfortable, she couldn’t deal with the handholding anymore. Time to end it.
Not waiting for Dorian’s response, Hayden dived into the crowd without a glance back. She got some stares, but no one talked to her as she passed. These weren’t her people, after all. Not that she technically had people.
Washing her hands with expensive-looking hand wash that smelled of cucumber and mint, she assessed herself in the mirror of the bathroom she had just barricaded herself in. Staring at her reflection, she ignored the knocking at the door and instead propped her hands on the edge of the sink. “What are you doing here?” she asked her reflection, as though the person looking back at her was someone else. Someone who could give her an explanation.
So far she wasn’t having a good time, and that had been the goal.
She didn’t owe Dorian anything. She didn’t owe any guy anything. She put herself first because if she didn’t, no one else would. She’d learned that lesson when most kids had been learning to ride a
bike.
No guy took priority in her life. She’d watched her mother get lost down that rabbit hole ever since she could remember, chasing after men and their false promises only to end up tossed aside at the end, a pile of broken pieces that Hayden had to gather up and patch back together. Enough.
Turning away from the mirror, she exited the bathroom. As she moved down the hall, a guy rounded the corner and his eyes lit up when he saw her. He walked an uneven line toward her, indicating he’d had more than a few drinks. “Heyyy there.” He stopped in front of her, his shoulder falling against the wall. He wagged a finger at her. “I know you.”
“Yeah?” She didn’t know him.
“You’re the hummer queen.”
She released a gust of breath and crossed her arms over her chest. She knew people called her that. Guys. Girls. Everyone. Ever since eighth grade, when the rumors started about her giving some guy a BJ in the back of the school bus, it had been uttered indiscreetly behind her back and even directly to her face.
“That so?”
“Yeah.” His gaze dropped, rolling down her body. “How about you show me your skills, baby?”
Ugh. Gross.
“How about I show you what else I’m good at?” She didn’t even care that her agreement with him was tacit—that she was the “hummer queen.” It just spoke to how little she cared what people thought about her. She knew rumors could destroy lives. If one let them. If one cared. Lucky for her, the opinions of others never mattered to her. Why should she care what people she didn’t care about thought?
He jerked his chin in invitation, licking his lips obscenely, his gaze fixating on her chest. “Yeah. Show me. What else you good at, baby?”
“Castration.”
His gaze shot back to hers. His swagger deflated as the single word sank in.
Without another glance, she walked into the party, searching for the nearest exit, ready to bail. There had to be a back door out of this place. Away from this party with its beautiful, carefree . . . and increasingly drunk people.
She found a way out through a set of French doors leading onto a patio with a burbling fountain. A fountain. Actual people lived like this. Unbelievable. It really was astonishing to think that she went to school with people who had fountains in their backyard. Crazy stuff. In her neighborhood, there were no fancy lawn fountains. She couldn’t even keep someone from stealing the rickety lawn chair off the tiny slab of concrete that served as her front porch.
Hayden marched past the fountain, searching for a way out, but then stopped and backed up a few steps.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she squared off in front of it and grudgingly admired it, wondering if it was one of those wishing fountains. It seemed unlucky to walk past a fountain without tossing a coin in it, just in case. She didn’t need bad luck in life. She’d been born under an unlucky star. Her mother told her that plenty of times. Apologized for it, in fact—as though that were to blame for her lot in life. As though her mother might not bear any responsibility.
Hayden didn’t have money to toss away, but she didn’t need to risk bad luck either. Or rather . . . worse luck. You know, in case her mom was right and her stars really were that unlucky.
She dug around in her pocket. She’d bought a burrito for two dollars and fifty cents from the corner store for dinner, but she must have left the change in her car. She checked her wrist wallet. No change there either. Not so surprising. Money was always tight. A coveted thing. People said money couldn’t buy happiness, but that was usually people who had plenty of it. Or at least enough.
Not people like her.
Not people who knew what it felt like to go to bed without dinner.
As soon as Hayden had turned fourteen, she got a job. She’d been working ever since.
She didn’t do it so she could have extra money to shop for shoes at the mall. She did it for food, gas, car insurance, groceries. Last month she actually took herself to the dentist. If she wanted tampons or toothpaste, she had to buy them herself.
Sometimes Mom would surprise her and bring home groceries, but Hayden knew better than to rely on her for those things. Whoever said the best things in life were free never had to scrape off the moldy edges on bread just so they could have something to eat.
Hayden lingered in front of the fountain. She never counted herself as superstitious. That was her mother—reading her horoscope every day, driving into a ditch to avoid a black cat, and throwing spilled salt over her shoulder. Still, in some secret, buried part of her, Hayden hated to pass up the opportunity to improve her fortune.
A sound caught her attention, breaking the spell. The scratch of something over loose gravel. Hayden shifted on her feet, looked around, and then spotted a shoe peeking out from the other side of the fountain.
She inched around, following the shoe up to its owner—a girl sitting on the ground with her back propped against the stone base of the fountain. Her wide Bambi-brown eyes stared straight ahead into the night. She looked young, but she probably wasn’t much younger than Hayden. Then again, Hayden thought every girl in high school looked young. Because Hayden felt so very old. She’d lived too much, seen too much. Hayden was eighteen, but she didn’t feel young.
The girl’s lips were moving, but her words were an inaudible whisper.
“Hey there,” Hayden greeted. “You got a penny?”
Bambi stopped her muttering and blinked up at Hayden like an owl, evidently seeing her for the first time. “A penny?”
“Yeah.” She wasn’t above bumming a penny off someone. Not if there was even a remote chance it could improve her fate.
After a second of hesitation the girl searched through the small handbag at her side. “Here you go.” She extended a coin to Hayden.
Hayden accepted it with a nod of thanks and stepped back several feet. Hayden could feel the girl’s eyes watching her.
Taking a bracing breath, she made her wish. She kept it simple. General. Nothing too specific. No sense being greedy. For my life to suck a little less.
Not that wishes ever came true. She knew that.
When she was young she used to wish for big things. She didn’t waste wishes on small things like a winter coat or art supplies, no matter how much she might want them. She wished for specific things like for Mom to stop drinking and get a good job that she wouldn’t lose five minutes later. Things like a new house. Or for her father to suddenly materialize and be like one of those TV dads. The last one was absurd, she knew. The guy had bailed before she was even born. No way was he suddenly going to stroll back into her life and be a responsible father now.
“What did you wish for?”
Hayden looked down at the mumbling girl. If she went to Travis High School, Hayden had never seen her before, but that wasn’t very surprising. Big school. Lots of faces.
“Come on,” she pressed from where she sat on the ground. “You can tell me.”
“I can’t. You know the rules. If I tell it won’t come true.”
“Rules.” The girl sneered, her top lip curling. The look didn’t seem natural on her. She seemed like the kind of girl who was wearing bows up until recently. “So tired of rules.”
Hayden thought about that for a moment. There weren’t too many rules in her life. Her mom wasn’t the kind of parent that enforced them.
“Yeah?” Hayden really looked at the girl, trying to determine if she was drunk. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were as bright as sunlit glass, but Hayden didn’t think it had anything to do with alcohol or other substances. And given who her mother was, Hayden knew the signs.
“Yeah.” She straightened her bent leg in a sudden move, almost as though she was kicking at something invisible in front of her. “I mean, it’s bad enough my mom has rules, but then I have my brother breathing down my neck, watching my every move, telling me what to do. He’s there to stop me if I want to step out of line even a teeny bit—which would only be a natural expression of adolescence, am I right?”
Her gaze landed on Hayden in hot accusation. “Right?”
A natural expression of adolescence? Who talked like that?
“Right,” Hayden replied, because it seemed the girl wasn’t going to stop until Hayden agreed with her.
“Right.” She nodded, satisfied but still full of fire. “But even when I step out of line just a little bit and decide to have some fun for myself, I can’t. And you know why? Because I’m too green. I run away like a scared little girl. Turns out I am the one standing in my own way of living the life I want.”
Hayden had no idea what was happening. She eyed the gate, ready to dive through and escape.
The girl wasn’t done, however. Still in full rant mode, she stabbed a finger at the house in livid accusation. “I mean, I’m not even considering doing anything as extreme as some people. Did you know there are people at this party right now watching porn in the media room? It’s a porn-watching party!”
The fact that people had a media room was actually more surprising to Hayden than the porn-watching scenario.
“Do you see me doing that?” the girl added, her voice gaining in shrillness.
Hayden shook her head. “No. I see you sitting right here.” She motioned to the area where the girl sat.
“That’s right. I ran from the room like some guy in a ski mask was after me.” The girl sighed deeply and seemed to regain some of her composure. She looked Hayden over for a long moment. “You’re Hayden Vargas,” she said, as though it just dawned on her.
Hayden blinked at the strangeness of this girl knowing her, but Hayden not reciprocating in that knowing. “Uh. Yeah.”
The girl nodded. “I’ve seen you around school. You’ve got a cool look.” She gestured up and down at Hayden.
And that’s why she knew her name? Because she noticed her look? A look that mostly consisted of clothes found at a thrift store?
“Thanks.” What else should she say?
“I’m Emmaline Martin. You don’t know me.” She shrugged. “It’s okay.” She said it like people not knowing her was a long-accustomed condition of her life.
Kissing Lessons Page 2
