Don't Fall for Trouble

by Victorine E. Lieske

  She tossed the phone on her bed and picked up her guitar. She’d finish the song before her mother called again. And then she’d play it for her. Determined, she fingered the chords.

  She worked on the song for another hour before it was time to put on her workout clothes and leave for Christian’s house. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, securing it with a rubber band. Her gym bag was in the bottom of her closet, and she dug it out and packed her notebook, a wireless speaker, and a workout towel.

  On her way to the garage she stopped in the kitchen and opened the notebook her father used to keep track of where she was. She wrote Trudy’s name and phone number, stating they were going jogging together. That would work until the temperatures dipped too low. Then she’d have to think of a different excuse.

  After she climbed into her car, she texted Trudy. I’m using you as an alibi. We’re going jogging together.

  Ooh, sounds interesting. What are you really doing?

  Working on my science project with Christian.

  Why does that need an alibi?

  Jessica snorted. Because my father would kill me if he knew I was alone with the kid from juvie.

  Ah, got it. No problem. I’m getting my jogging outfit on as we speak.

  Thanks. You’re the best.

  She threw her car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. Sudden nerves hit her stomach as she drove to the address Christian had given her. Was it a premonition? Would she look back on the feeling as a warning bell sounding?

  She shook off her foreboding thoughts, focusing instead on her grade. If anything happened, it would be her teacher’s fault for pairing the two of them up. She slowed her car as the houses got smaller and closer together. When she found his house number, she pulled up behind his motorcycle parked on the street and cut her engine.

  The house had a fresh coat of white paint and the yard was well kept. It helped ease her worries as she walked toward the front door. What had she thought? He’d pull her into some rundown shack and handcuff her? She laughed to herself for being so paranoid and pressed the bell.

  The door swung open and a young girl stared up at her with large, brown eyes. She looked like she was maybe four years old, with long, dark hair. “Well, hello there,” Jessica said. “Is Christian here?”

  The little girl nodded, her expression solemn. “He’s here.”

  Jessica smiled and waited for the girl to go get him, but she didn’t move. “Can you tell him I’m here?” she finally said.

  The girl once again nodded, then disappeared into the house. A second later she heard the girl yell, “Christian! Someone’s at the door.”

  Christian appeared, and she knew she was in trouble. He wore jeans and a black sleeveless shirt which revealed how muscular his arms were. He had a black tattoo of a flock of birds circling his left arm. His hair was once again falling to his forehead and he wore a half-smile that made her insides feel like melted chocolate.

  Dang, he was hot.

  CHRISTIAN STARED AT Jessica standing on his front steps. She looked like she was going on a run, with her spandex and tennis shoes. Her hair was pulled back, which he liked. He could see her blue eyes. She clutched a duffle bag and was shifting her weight like she wasn’t sure she wanted to be there. He opened the door for her and she stepped inside. “Molly, this is Jessica.” He pointed to his sister peeking out from behind a chair. “This is my sister, Molly.”

  “Nice to meet you, Molly.” Jessica smiled.

  “I made a macaroni necklace at school yesterday.”

  “You did? That’s pretty cool.”

  “Want to see it?”

  “Sure.”

  Molly ran off. Christian pointed to her bag. “What’s in there?”

  “My stuff.”

  He felt awkward just standing there. Her gaze kept dipping to the tattoo on his arm and he wondered if he should have worn a long-sleeved shirt instead. Molly came back into the room holding the macaroni necklace out.

  Jessica crouched down to see it. “This looks awesome.”

  “You can have it.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “Me? Don’t you want to give it to someone you love? Like your mom?”

  “Mom’s at work. I think you should have it.” His sister handed the necklace to Jessica.

  She slipped it on over her head, then patted the macaroni. “It fits perfectly.”

  Molly giggled. Christian ruffled her hair. “All right, Munchy. Run off and play. Jessica and I need to work on our science project.”

  She looked up at him. “I want to do airplane mode.”

  Of course, she’d want that. How embarrassing. He shook his head. “Maybe later.”

  “Please?” Molly ran to him, her arms outstretched, and he couldn’t refuse. He picked her up and flew her through the air, complete with airplane noises. She giggled when he swooped her around. He couldn’t help but laugh at the delight on her face. Then he set her down.

  “Again!”

  “Nope. I really have to get to work now.”

  She pouted for a second, then ran off to her room. Christian glanced at Jessica, who was looking at him with a suppressed smile. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged and her gaze dipped to the carpet. “It’s just funny to see you like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “A tough guy reduced to jelly by a preschooler.” Her eyes held a smile.

  He took a step closer to her. “You think I’m tough, huh?”

  She snorted. “So, where’s your equipment?”

  “In the basement. Follow me.” He led her through their small kitchen to the stairs leading down. Their basement was finished in the eighties, so it had wood paneling everywhere, but the workout room was large and full of Michael’s high-end equipment.

  He motioned toward the machines. “Where do you want to start?”

  She sat down on the carpet and unzipped her bag. “Let’s record some numbers to start with. Then we have something to compare to. We’ll need to know how much you can lift, for example, while no music is playing to see if there’s any change.”

  “All right. Let’s do this.” He’d spent the last three years using Michael’s own equipment to get strong enough to stand up to his blows. He knew exactly how much he could lift.

  He laid back on the bench press. “You can count for me, blondie.”

  “You can count for yourself. And stop calling me blondie. I have a name.” She glared at him.

  “Sorry, sweet cheeks.”

  Her glare deepened and her face turned red. “Don’t push me.”

  Christian rather enjoyed pushing her, but he shrugged and gave her a disinterested look. “Whatever.”

  They took turns lifting weights, cycling, rowing and working muscles on the machines, Jessica writing down every detail. He did notice her look of appraisal as she wrote down his stats. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he could bench press 200 lbs.

  Jessica pulled out a towel from her duffle bag and wiped at her neck. She eyed his tattoo. “I don’t remember you in grade school.”

  “I didn’t live here in grade school.”

  “When did you move to Rockford?”

  “When I was twelve.”

  She nodded. “Where did you live before?”

  “New York.”

  “City?”

  Why was she so interested? He shook his head. “Upstate. Small town. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

  “Oh.” She patted her face with her towel. “Do you like it here?”

  He hated it. “No.”

  She didn’t say anything in response, just shoved her towel back into her bag. She crossed the room and sat down on the lat pulldown, grabbing the bar, but it was too heavy for her. “Will you lighten that for me?”

  He stopped doing his leg curls and hopped off his machine. “Sure.” He pulled the pin out and stuck it in a few bars up. Might still be heavy for her, but he wanted to see what she could do.

  Instead of pulling on t
he bar, though, she just stared at him.

  He stepped closer to her. “What?”

  “I was just wondering why you’re always missing school.”

  He hadn’t expected that. “You’re bold.”

  “I don’t like playing games.”

  He leaned on the steel bar, holding the pulley, and bent down until he could feel her breath on his face. It smelled fruity, and he had an insane urge to draw even closer. He didn’t, though. He just stared into her blue eyes. She swallowed, and her grip tightened on the bar. He allowed his gaze to land on her lips. “Sometimes games can be fun.”

  She let out a tiny gasp, her lips parting.

  He smirked and stood back. He affected her. Good. He walked to the dumbbells. “Let’s just say high school isn’t my biggest concern right now.”

  “What is your biggest concern?”

  Getting Molly away from Michael. But he couldn’t say that out loud. He’d learned his lesson. Don’t accuse a cop of something. No one believes you. “What’s yours? Getting into that music school?”

  “So, what if it is?” She lifted her chin a fraction of an inch and pulled down on the bar. Her muscles strained, but she managed to do it. She was determined, he’d give that to her. He liked how she wasn’t giving up, even though it was hard on her.

  Maybe he just liked her.

  He turned and picked up a dumbbell. He didn’t need a girl distracting him. He was leaving soon. He had to keep his head in the game. He had more important things to worry about.

  Chapter 3

  Jessica’s heart pounded, and it wasn’t from the workout. Christian was charismatic. Mysterious. Sexy. And she wanted to know more about him.

  He was eighteen. What could be more important than high school? But the way he’d talked about it, she believed him. Something was up with him, and she was going to figure out what it was. It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but maybe she could do some digging. Find out more about him.

  After they got done working out on all the machines, and she had all their data entered into her notebook, she left his house. She drove home and took a shower to wash off the sweat. After her shower, she sat at her desk and flipped open her laptop.

  She would start with what got him in to juvie. The rumors at school were unreliable, she knew that, but maybe she could search the newspaper articles online and find out. She opened the local paper’s website and typed in his name. Only one article came up, and her blood froze at the headline.

  “Local Police Officer Attacked by Teen; Rushed to Hospital.”

  Christian’s picture showed, his name in the small print underneath. With her heart lodged in her throat, she continued to read.

  “Officer Michael Connor was taken by ambulance Thursday to Rockford Memorial after teen Christian Black brutally assaulted the six-year veteran of the force. Deputy county attorney Justin Sharp, commenting on the case, said...”

  The article cut off. With her mouth full of cotton, she clicked on the button that said read more, but the website wanted her to subscribe to see it. She slapped the desk with her hand and blew out a frustrated breath. Christian had beat up a cop? That was terrible.

  And her father was quoted in the article.

  This was so not good. If he found out where she’d been this morning...where she was going tomorrow morning...she didn’t even want to think about the consequences.

  And what about the consequences of being near Christian? Her mind snapped to the image of him curling the weights, his muscles bulging. If he could put a police officer in the hospital, what could he do to her?

  She swallowed, but the lump in her throat didn’t decrease in size. If anything, it grew and made it even harder to breathe.

  Her phone alerted her of a text message and she picked it up. Christian’s name appeared.

  You sore from the workout?

  She stared at the message. It seemed innocent enough. But her fingers shook as she tried to decide if she wanted to text him back. He wasn’t just some kid from school. He had a temper. And enough brawn to put a full-grown man into the hospital because of it.

  She didn’t want to respond, but his face flashed into her mind, and she had a hard time leaving him hanging. He didn’t seem that bad when she was with him in person. She debated, then finally, she sent a quick message.

  I’m fine.

  Three dots appeared, and even though she knew he was a guy she should stay away from, she couldn’t help but stare at her phone and wait for him to text back.

  What are you doing tonight?

  Her nerves jumped. She wasn’t doing anything, but she didn’t want to tell him that. Why are you asking?

  I don’t know. Just curious.

  I have a date. She pressed send, then slapped her forehead with her hand. Why was she lying to him? Why was she even answering his texts? This was stupid.

  With who?

  Busted. She couldn’t lie and make up a name. He’d know she was lying. Instead, she played it off as a joke. Ben and Jerry’s.

  Funny. So, you’re staying home alone?

  I’m actually trying to finish writing a song. Not a lie.

  Boring.

  She snorted. Why was she continuing this conversation? He knew nothing about her. But she couldn’t leave it alone. No, not boring. It’s important to me.

  Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you.

  Jessica was taken aback. She hadn’t expected him to react that way. He was the kind of kid who didn’t care about anyone. Why would he apologize? It’s okay. I’m not easily offended.

  Yeah, you’re kind of sassy. I like that.

  She bit her lip. Why did that please her? He was trouble wrapped up in heartache and solid muscle. She should not feel giddy that he said he liked her sass. But yet, she couldn’t help herself. And you’re a flirt.

  She waited to see what he would say back to her, but nothing came. The seconds ticked by. Finally, her phone buzzed with a new text.

  Come out with me tonight.

  Her pulse jumped. He wanted to see her tonight. As in, a date. Why did that make her insides all fluttery? She couldn’t date Christian. He was not a nice guy. He was most likely going to end up in jail by age twenty. Her fingers hovered over the keys when another message came in. This time, it was from her father.

  I’m working on a case and it looks like I’ll be here until late. Are you okay being on your own for dinner?

  Great. Her father wasn’t going to be home. And here she was, trying to figure out a nice way to tell Christian she didn’t want to go out with him. She answered her dad. Sure, I’ll be fine.

  Then she switched back to Christian. His invitation made her hands sweaty. She didn’t want to say no, which was insane. She couldn’t date him. Not unless she wanted to be grounded forever if her father found out, and a possible head injury from dating a guy with a temper. She quickly texted back before she lost her nerve. No, thank you.

  She waited for a snappy comeback, but nothing came. She took a few minutes to check her social media accounts, and he still hadn’t answered back ten minutes later. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was done bugging her. She set her phone down on her desk and sighed. This was what she wanted. So, why did she feel disappointed?

  JESSICA HAD A HARD time falling asleep. It felt like hours of lying there, her brain working overtime. When she finally drifted off to sleep, it was four in the morning. At the sound of her alarm, she woke with a throbbing headache. Just what she needed. She opened her bottle of ibuprofen and swallowed two of them, then crawled back into bed. The next time she awoke, it was ten thirty and she was late. She jumped out of bed and immediately regretted it, her head feeling like it was going to explode.

  She quickly showered and went downstairs to grab an apple. Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee and reading on his phone. His once jet-black hair was now peppered with gray. Her mother still called him the most handsome man she’d ever met. She said he was like a good bo
ttle of wine; he just got better with age. Kind of sappy, but it made Jessica smile.

  He looked up when she walked in. “Hi, sweetheart. How was your evening last night? Did you finish that song you’ve been working on?”

  Her father didn’t know anything about music, but he tried to be supportive. Unfortunately, she hadn’t finished the song. She’d spent the evening watching zombie movies on Netflix. “Not yet,” she said, then took a big bite of her apple so he wouldn’t ask more questions about it.

  He motioned to her workout outfit. “You going running with Trudy again?”

  She nodded, then wished she hadn’t when her headache flashed hot pain behind her eyes. Dang. What had she done to deserve this fresh torture? She’d never had a headache this bad.

  Her father raised his mug. “Have fun.” He took a sip and went back to his phone.

  “Thanks.” She took another bite of her apple. It didn’t taste very good, but she forced herself to eat it as she drove to Christian’s house. She tossed the core into a grocery sack, her car’s trash can, and stepped out onto the street, clutching her gym bag. She winced at another flash of pain.

  Christian opened the front door before she was completely up the walkway. He leaned against the door jamb as she made her way up the steps. “What’s wrong?”

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Nothing. I just have a headache.”

  “You look hungover.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you. I don’t drink.”

  His gaze traveled over her before he stepped aside so she could enter. “Too bad,” he said under his breath.

  She ignored him. She wasn’t in the mood to spar. All she wanted was to crawl into a hole and die.

  He headed toward the stairs and she followed him. When they got to the basement, he turned to her. “How bad is this headache? You look terrible.”

  Yeah, because she felt terrible. She sat down on the carpet and put her head in her hands. “It’s the worst headache I’ve ever had.”

  “Do you get migraines?”

  “I never have before.”

  “Did you see flashing lights before the headache?”