by Cassie Mae
My forehead bunches. “How do you think I see you?”
“You wouldn’t have asked me to teach you how to be bad if you didn’t see my talent for it.”
I snort, covering the bottom half of my face with the comforter to muffle the noise. “If I’d only known you weren’t such a bad boy, I might’ve searched elsewhere.”
“You don’t think I’m a guy who’s out to break all the rules, then?”
“Not all of them.” I turn on my side, using my arm as a pillow. “I’ll admit that I painted a version of you in my head. I figured you were rebelling against your parents by getting a full tattoo sleeve and buying a motorcycle. I thought you didn’t care about your job since you never tuck that shirt in or wear your hat all the time and bring people into the break room.”
“Geez, I’m so bad,” he teases.
“Shut up. To me, you were.”
“Were? Past tense?”
“That’s a past tense word, yes.”
“And now?” he prods. “You think of me that way?”
“A little.” Compared to me, he’s a downright rebel. “But I mean, you do care a lot about your job. You don’t rebel against your parents, that’s for sure. You’re basically providing for them. I took one look at you and assumed a lot… which sucks to admit, because people do that to me and I hate it.”
He turns to his side, and I see the outline of his head pop over the top of our pillow wall. He moves the top pillow down. “No one’s harder on you than you are.”
“I won’t even argue with you.”
He faux gasps. “Really? No rebuttal?”
“Not when you’re right.” I scoot a little closer but not enough to mean much other than adjusting positions. “You don’t scare me, Pete.”
“Huh?”
“You said you didn’t want to scare me.” I reach for the pillow between us and play with the corner. “You don’t.”
“Even now?”
“Nope.” I pop the ‘p’ and grin. Doesn’t he get just how safe I feel with him? “I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if you scared me, silly.”
His breath takes on a much faster cadence, and I continue to pick at the corner of the pillow separating our heads.
“Wanna know a secret?” he says after a minute.
“Always.”
“I share your number one fear.”
I let out a laugh, and I feel him jerk back from the force of it. “Yeah right. You’re just trying to make me feel better about being a virgin.” He’s more than implied he’s not one; he’s flat out admitted to having sex. I recall teasing him about a one night stand he had about four months after knowing him.
“I’m serious, you butt.” He slides his hand across the pillow, and I feel tickle fingers crawl up my arm. I squirm away with a giggle.
“Okay!” I bat him away, even though I like his hand on me right now. “What scares you about sex?”
“Not sex,” he clarifies, tucking his hand under his head. He scoots closer—close enough I can feel his breath in the space between us. “Intimacy. I’m not good at getting close. Sharing stuff.”
“You invited me to Christmas,” I point out. “You told me about your parents, your family.”
“Yeah, and it scared the hell out of me to do it.”
“You hid it well.” I felt so at home with him, so comfortable. I hope he doesn’t regret sharing all of that with me. “Wait… are you scared right now?” Lying next to me and chatting about sex and image and our fears seems pretty darn intimate. And I thought I was the one who would be freaking out, but I’m surprisingly calm.
He huffs out a humorless laugh. “Terrified.”
Suddenly I understand the impact of what he’s saying. How the level of friendship we have is almost as intimate as sex to him, and a sweat breaks out across my skin. I shiver despite the rush of heat and curl into the sheets. Is he admitting feelings for me? Is he afraid to lie so close to me, worried he might overshare or expose himself emotionally?
I swallow down my racing heart that seems to have jumped up to my throat. “Um… Pete?”
“Hmm?”
“Why…” I take a breath. “Why did you kiss me tonight?”
“It’s New Year’s,” he says almost as if he’s on auto-pilot. I let out a frustrated sigh.
“Pete… For real. Why?”
I need to know if it’s what I think and what—I realize—I hope. I want him to tell me he likes me. Me, the real-life Candace. The girl who lectures him about the state of his work uniform and who isn’t afraid to blurt out the truth, no matter how embarrassing. I want him to like the girl who is scared to kill a spider, but she does it anyway. I want him to like the girl who overcame one of her violet fears by jumping on the back of a motorcycle. I want him to like the girl who laminates and color codes her lists, has a strict bedtime, who won’t have sex until she’s in love.
I want him to like that girl, and I hope that’s why he kissed that girl at midnight.
“You’re gonna make me conquer my fear, aren’t you?” he teases, and I reach over and try to tickle him like he did me, but my hand hits his nose. “Hey, watch it.”
“Sorry.” I feel around till I hit under his chin. He cuts my tickle fingers off, his scruff prickling my knuckles. “Tell me. Pa-weeze?”
Our combined laughter shakes the bed. He rolls to his back, my hand sliding to his shoulder. The outline of his arm reaches up, and he puts a hand over his face. “I don’t know, Candace. You… looked so pretty. And the dude was just standing there.”
“And you thought you’d do it for him?” I can’t stop smiling. I’ve never heard Pete so tongue-tied, and it’s adorable.
“Yeah,” he says on a sigh. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?”
“No.” My fingers curl against the fabric of the tight t-shirt I lent him, and I play with the edge of the sleeve. His skin puckers against my touch. “I liked it.”
I can’t see him, but I can feel the grin growing on his face. “I am pretty good at it.”
“Eh.” I shrug, the sheets rustling with the movement.
“Thought you didn’t argue when I was right.”
“I don’t.”
He shakes his head and blows out a breath. The air around us feels just like the kiss he delivered—electrified yet comfortable. I run my hand up and down his arm, tickled to the bone with every goosebump I leave in my wake.
“So… it was out of obligation?” I prod. Come on, Pete. Give me just a little more.
He stares at the ceiling for exactly seven seconds before answering. “Everyone needs a kiss on New Year’s.”
Disappointment floods through me, but it doesn’t squelch my hope entirely. Maybe what we’ve shared so far tonight is enough intimacy for him, and I’m not one to throw stones at someone’s fears.
Or maybe he’s letting me down easy. I already know I don’t have sex appeal.
Either way, I’m grateful for the small amount of happy I got tonight from him, and I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else to get it.
I scoot against the pillow wall, finding him pressed against the other side. My hand paints a path down his arm, resting against his palm. I intertwine my fingers with his and bend my elbow, bringing his knuckles to my lips.
“Thank you,” I say against his skin. I hope it’s enough to convey just how grateful I am to him, and not just tonight.
“Any time,” he croaks, trying for the joke, but his voice gives him away. I drop our hands, but he tightens his grasp, refusing to let me go. Our clasped hands sit atop our pillow wall, and I let my eyes grow heavy, despite the buzz running under my skin. His thumb rubbing comforting circles on the inside of my wrist lulls me to a deep sleep.
Pete
I slept more last night than I have all week, despite dozing off around four in the morning.
Luckily my shift didn’t start until five. Troublemakers didn’t open until then, so I’m more awake, but not as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as I should be
.
Sleeping next to Candace felt much better than it should have. Holding her hand felt like a late Christmas gift, and I hate that I feel so empty without it. I can’t count how many times I wanted to roll over and plant another kiss to her lips. After she pressed a kiss to my hand, I was wide awake for another half an hour at least. My mouth was so damn jealous of my knuckles.
Her breathing evened out and deepened long before mine did. I listened to her sleep and berated my dumbass for holding back all the thoughts running through my head. Somehow, at some point in the last month, I fell for her. I didn’t even know it until she asked me why I kissed her, and the answer was there on the tip of my tongue and I bit it away.
“You could have told me,” Tanner says from his spot at the Wheel Zone, jolting me out of my self-loathing. We’re supervising the half-pipes together tonight, and Mad’s the only one here. The shiny new decals I got her cover her decrepit board, reflecting the overhead lights.
“Told you what?” I grumble.
“That you’re into Candace.” He jams his hands into his back pockets, his eyes on my sister as she does a drop-in.
“I didn’t know I was.” It’s honest, but he throws me a look like I’m full of it.
“You knew I was, though.” His eyes swivel to my sister again, and she does an invert, landing up on the edge of the half pipe.
“Sorry.” It’s a pathetic excuse for an apology. We aren’t best buds by any definition, but I did know about his feelings for her. “It blindsided me too, man.”
He nods, his lips pursed. Tanner isn’t normally so stoic, and I wonder just how much I pissed him off. I let out a sigh and just about tell him nothing’s gonna happen between Candace and me. But I can’t seem to form the words. I don’t want to hear them.
Maddie presses her foot to her board and soars down a ramp that leads directly to us. I back up, giving her room to dismount. She plucks off her helmet and holds her hand out for her water bottle.
“Does Troublemakers rent for private parties?” she says through her heavy breath. Sweat matts her hair to her forehead, and she tips her head back for a long slug of water. “I’m really liking the idea of the course all to myself.”
“Soon you’ll be practicing in a legit boarding park,” Tanner says. “That sponsorship is around the corner, Brink.”
They fist bump, and when Mad’s eyes drift to me, her smile starts to fade. “What’s with you, glum bum?”
Okay, yeah… I’m grumpy as hell, and my poker face isn’t all that great when it comes to my sister. Worry creases her eyes, and her shoulders droop.
“It’s not Dad, is it?”
It’s sad that she comes to that conclusion first. “No,” I say, easing her mind. Between the extra hours and the side job I have with Candace, Dad’s mortgage, Christmas, and our rent were all paid in full. I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel in terms of food right now, but I’m used to that.
Mad twists her board with her palm, studying me long and hard. I tilt my head.
“Stop. I’m fine.”
“It’s Candace, isn’t it?”
“No.” Yes.
Tanner shuffles his weight and fixes his hat. “I think yes,” he says with a forced smirk. “We were just talking about her.”
Maddie pouts her bottom lip and pats my shoulder. “Aww, Pete. Did she not reciprocate those feelings you’ve kept bottled up?”
“Not exactly.” Hard to reciprocate feelings she doesn’t know about. I royally botched it last night, but I didn’t know what was happening. I was so knocked sideways, I barely registered just how much I shared with her and how much I kept inside.
I should’ve just said it all instead of tiptoeing around.
Maddie shakes her head and kicks her board into her hands. “Peter Jay Owens, you tell that girl how you feel.” My sister is a mind-reader.
“Mad…” I glance at Tanner, who’s being real silent on the subject. He’s staring at his shoes, pretending that his laces are the most interesting thing in the place.
“What? You don’t like her?”
“I do.” Wow, first time I’ve said it out loud, and it feels pretty good.
“She likes you, too.” She hooks her arms on her board resting at the back of her neck.
“She told you that?”
“Didn’t have to.” She kicks Tanner in the foot. “You saw it, right? At the party.”
Tanner nods, his face impassive. “And this morning.”
“What do you mean?” I know he doesn’t want to talk about it, but my curiosity wins out. What did he see this morning?
He lets out a giant breath and finally looks my way. “She was bouncing off the walls. And singing. Very badly, I might add. Woke me right up.”
I chuckle at the imagery, pride swelling in my chest. It’s not like we did much last night. I was a little disappointed to wake up without her hand in mine and the other side of our pillow barrier empty. I figured she was too embarrassed to stay there, but maybe it was just Candace being Candace, waking up early.
“See?” Maddie says after a beat. “What are you so worried about? The sooner you tell her, the sooner you guys can kiss whenever you want.”
She doesn’t know the most complicated part—the part that holds me back. Am I the second choice? Zach was a no go, so here, take Pete. Maddie might be sure of how Candace feels, but I’m not.
The intercom crackles to life, and Josh’s voice booms across the indoor amusement park. “Hey Troublemakers, it’s closing time. Thanks for making trouble with us, and come again soon.”
Maddie drops her board to the ground and grins. “Here’s your chance. She’s in the arcade tonight, right?”
I nod.
“I’ll help Tanner close up, and you go talk to her. Please.”
“And if she laughs in my face?”
“She won’t.”
“If she does.”
“Then I’ll ask her out,” Tanner jumps in. He’s joking, a smirk curling his lips, but I know exactly what he’s saying. I doubt he was all that thrilled to be a part of this conversation, and he’s in the same position I was in last night—watching a fool not take a chance with an amazing girl.
I take my hat off and run a hand over my head. I won’t be that fool. If she laughs in my face, she’ll at least know that there’s one person who loves her for who she is and not who she’s pretending to be. That’ll be worth it to me.
Pete
I jog over to the arcade, taking the steps two at a time up to the blinking lights and booming music from the machines. Patrons climb down opposite me, heading toward the exit. Guess most people were in this zone tonight; ours was empty except for Maddie.
I catch my breath when I hit the top step, scanning through the games for Candace’s red shirt and reddish ponytail. Aislynn’s behind the redemption area, and she pops up from behind the counter, her pink hair fraying out from underneath her hat. She waves, and I mouth, “Where’s Candace?” It’ll be pointless to shout with all the noise.
She jabs a finger to the back corner and mouths, “Skeeball.” I rush over there before I lose my nerve.
I got no clue what to say or how to say it, and I’m praying that whatever spews from my mouth is more articulate than what I said to her last night.
I weave through the ticket games, past the racing games, and find her crouched in front of the middle Skeeball, the metal front where the card reader rests propped open. The closer I get, the more I hear her grumbles.
“Stupid, son of a b-word…”
“Giving you trouble?” I kick my foot up on the Skeeball lane. Her shoulders jerk with the surprise of my arrival, but her eyes brighten when she looks up.
“Hey. I actually need to talk to you.”
“You want me to fix it?” The Skeeball reader is notorious for going out, and we’re all trained, but some of us are better at getting it back up than others.
She’s better than I am, and we both know it, so she ignores my lame attempt at a j
oke.
She locks the game up and rises from her crouch. Grease stains her forefinger. She actually let herself get messy.
Or she doesn’t know.
Yeah, I’m going with that one.
“So, I know we only agreed on a month of lessons, but humor me for a second,” she says, diving in before I get a word in edgewise.
“Okay…” I say hesitantly. I don’t want to talk about her “rebelessons.” I don’t want to think about the money she paid me to help her get a guy that I no longer want her to go after.
“Well, we didn’t even get halfway through my list.”
“That list is huge.”
“Exactly. So I was hoping to hire you for another month or five. Tackle them all one by one.”
Month or five? “Candace… I don’t think—”
“I know I’m not the easiest student,” she butts in, her voice tense and determined. “But I’ll get better, I promise. I’ll be more badas… badas… flexible, and you won’t have to drag me into stuff. Just sort of hold my hand through it. Metaphorically, of course. You don’t have to actually hold my hand. I mean, unless we’re bungee jumping or something together and then you must definitely hold my entire body, you got it? Not that I’m suggesting bungee jumping because heights are level blue and I need to work up to that before we go for the biggies. I know that sounds like the same old Candace, being all bossy and controlling, but I’m going to change, I know it. If you help me, anyway. I’ll be less bossy and more gung ho about breaking rules and—”
“Stop.” I put my hand up. Frustration runs its slimy tentacles up my neck and curls my tongue, and I find myself biting my words out at her. “I can’t listen to that anymore.”
Pain and confusion twists her features, and she blinks those dark brown eyes. “Sorry…?”
I take a deep, shaky breath, my nerves wound so tight I can’t seem to control them. I grab at my hair, tugging on the ends, hoping for some sense to come through my tone. “Damn it, Candace, I can’t help you anymore, okay? I don’t want to.”
“Pete,” she says, her voice small, taken aback. “I didn’t mean to… I mean, if you don’t want to teach me, if I’m taking up too much of your time…”
