Fall Guy (A Youngblood Book)

by Reinhardt, Liz

  The fault lines of this date run deep, and the jostling anger of my feelings threatens to tear it apart.

  "Pull over." My voice bounces the words so hard, they border on a stutter.

  "No way." He accelerates slightly and pulls down streets even I don't know, and I've roamed Savannah since I could toddle. "You wanna see badass? Do you? Cause I can take you places where guys are fucking animals, Evan. Animals who don't give a fuck. They scare the shit out of me, and I'm not a pussy by any stretch of the imagination. And if you end up with one of them because you think it’s cute to date fuck-ups…I don’t even want to think about what could happen. It isn’t a game, Evan. It isn’t a goddamn joke. It’s serious, and you should take it seriously."

  I grip the handle of the door and tug, but Winch swings the car to the shoulder and brakes before I can jam it open.

  The night is still sweet and deep, filled with the happy crush of groups of friends walking to bars, the low hum of a million insects, the roar of the engine of some sporty car showing off as it buzzes past us down the street, and a promise of wild fun that only the late, lazy yawn of summer can hold.

  I wish I could stop the shivers that rip through me and enjoy all of this beauty instead.

  "I'm getting out," I say in a slow, firm voice. "This date is so over. I'm going to call a car and get dropped off at home. I'll be perfectly safe, but you're a fucking jerk, and this date is over."

  I open the door and slide out, and for a second Winch does nothing at all, which makes relief and sadness tango cheek to cheek in my heart. Then his door opens and slams shut hard enough to rock the car back and forth.

  I walk fast, glad that I didn't have time to change into the dangerously adorable sex-kitten heels I'd usually be wearing on a Saturday night date downtown. Winch's boot-steps trail me.

  "Go home, Winchester. This date is over!" I glance over my shoulder and shoo him with a flick of my fingers.

  His mouth tightens. "I'm not letting you walk through this part of town alone. I'm not an asshole."

  His implication burns like acid in the back of my throat. "Actually, aren't I the best judge of that, asshole? And I've been walking Savannah by myself since I was in middle school, so get lost."

  I'm so busy mouthing off, I don't notice a high spot in the cement and half trip. I would have been perfectly capable of catching myself, but Winch is right next to me, his hand cupped under my elbow, and I'm pissed that I need his assistance for even a second. I plan to shake his hand off and run far away from this miserable failure of a date. But once he has his hands on me, he grips too tight for me to get away.

  "You're hurting me," I hiss as he turns me to face him.

  "I could never hurt you as bad as you try to hurt yourself," he answers with chilly calm.

  A tiny voice inside my head screams in his direction, How could you know that?

  We stand on the sidewalk, and I make a quick attempt to yank away from him, but it's pointless to try, so I focus on his gorgeous, glowering face, cursing my bad luck in picking yet another control-freak douchebag. His hands slide down to my elbows and then open up, letting me go, and he shoves them firmly into the depths of his pockets.

  "If I let you wait with me while I call a car, will that be good enough for you?" I press my hands palm-to-palm in front of me, prayer style, and his glower deepens. "What? What do you want then?"

  He kicks at the cement. "I want to rewind tonight. Start over. Make it right."

  "I've given a lot of guys second chances when I shouldn't have. But you know all about how stupid I am when it comes to relationships, right?"

  My voice whips out and smacks at the lazy night air. His eyes, so dark denim blue, feel like they're soaking up the puddle of all my crazy emotions.

  "Fair. But I only got pissed because..." He trails off and shakes his head. "If I try to explain, I'll fuck up more." He digs his hands out of his pockets and grabs mine by the tips of my fingers. "Give me five minutes."

  He smiles, and it's beyond contagious; it's viral. My lips tug up despite my efforts to keep stone-faced, so I roll my eyes to offset them.

  He holds up one hand, fingers splayed apart. "That's all I'm asking for. Five minutes, clean slate, then you decide what you want from this night. Fair?"

  I shake my head and sigh. "I guess." I slide out my cell phone. "It's 7:38. You have until 7:43." I set the alarm and purse my lips at him. "You're on a timer, monkey boy. Dance for me."

  He holds his hand to me and it takes me two beats, maybe three, before our fingers are threaded together and we’re clean-slated, wounds licked and pushed back just for these five short minutes.

  He starts walking, and I keep pace next to him. He clears his throat. "First minute I saw you? I thought you were trouble."

  My laugh tumbles out before I can stop it. "When I first saw you, I thought you were cocky."

  He nods. "Not too far off the mark." His fingers squeeze mine tighter. "You were sitting on the floor, and I thought you had great hair, you know? Shampoo commercial hair."

  "Shampoo commercial, huh?" I bump my shoulder against his. "Do you write sonnets? Because you've got what it takes to make a girl's heart melt all over the place."

  "Sonnets, huh? I've never written one before. But I'd give it a try for you."

  If he was still teasing, I'd have winked or pretend-sighed, but the half-crook of his eyebrow lets me know he's serious, and the idea of him toiling over some long, complicated poem to me, for me, turns me on so hard and fast, I feel a telltale heat between my legs.

  "But it was when you looked up that I knew I was in trouble. That face..." He shakes his hand. "So damn gorgeous, and so furious. I thought I was gonna charm you and all that, make you see what a nice guy I am and get you to fall for me a little. And you looked pissed as hell. I felt like...I felt like I was finally looking at someone who could understand all the crazy shit I feel and have to push back every day.”

  I stop walking and stare at him, the way his eyes seem to pace back and forth, the lock and release of his jaw, and I want to kiss him so badly, it's embarrassing. Especially considering what a rude bastard he was a few minutes ago.

  My problem was always falling too hard, too fast, without listening to the warning bells ringing clear as day.

  I can't tell if they're ringing right now, but it would make sense if they’ve rung so loud for so long, I’ve just become deaf to their noise.

  "I know I said I wouldn't try to explain why I got so pissed, but you deserve an explanation, even if you only give me these five minutes, then never talk to me again, okay?" He cups one palm against my face and runs his fingertips along my cheek, the sharp focus in his eyes suddenly blurred. "You're tough. And that is so unbelievably attractive. But there’s this softness in you, too, and I know it’s not a piece of yourself that you put out there for everyone. But I love when I get glimpses of it."

  He drops his voice. "I was a dick...I am a dick because I liked you the minute I saw you. And when you told me about the other guys, how they fucked you over, I swear to god, I never felt more like kicking some ass, Evan. And part of me felt--" He slides both hands to my shoulders and holds on tight. "Part of me felt like I better be damn sure I'd never do anything like that to you. So I was pissed at them and pissed at me, and a little pissed at you for not realizing that you're worth so much more than that. That you should never, ever let anyone treat you that way. So I'm sorry. I really am. Trust me, that little outburst wasn't in the plan."

  Goosebumps run up and down my arms and legs, I feel hot, and the blood rushes quick and deafening in my ears. "So, there was a plan?"

  He nods, his mouth twisted to the side. "A good plan. Slick as hell, romantic, the whole nine."

  "You messed that up big time." My voice wobbles and thumps. The cellphone in my pocket lets out a soft tone, the alarm that marks the end of our five minutes.

  Winch pulls me closer, and the entire world funnels into the space between the two of us. "It was chicken-shit of m
e to want to be slick instead of honest. But I'm glad you gave me a second chance to be honest with you, Evan, even if being honest might have fucked it all up. You deserve honesty. And I wouldn't rush this under normal circumstances, but I respect that you might beat it now that I got my five minutes. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't at least try."

  His hands run up along my neck, and he tips my face to his. I can smell the sharp tang of his aftershave and the underlying salty sweat that marks his long day of work in the sun. I snake my arms around his waist, and my knees wobble when he locks his hips to mine. He nuzzles my neck, sucking gently and breathing deeply, and I press against him.

  He pulls his mouth up my neck, across my cheek, and finds my lips with a desperate press that shocks me and knocks a moan out of my mouth and into his. The fingers of his one hand slide through my hair and his other hand dips down to the small of my back, pulling me tighter and locking me closer.

  My mouth opens and his tongue slides in, and his kiss isn't the mix of lazy and confident I was sure it would be. It's all crazy passion and definite possessiveness, like he knows that if he snares me with a kiss I can't forget, I won't be able to walk away after our five minutes is up.

  The alarm on my phone tones its reminder again, but all I can think about is the hungry pull of Winch's mouth, the strong cage of his arms, and the fact that even when I set my own alarm and it is ringing right in my ear, I'm powerless against a bad boy and his hot kisses.

  Winch 4

  I don't know if I ever kissed any girl the way I'm kissing Evan, like a maniac, on the curb in the middle of Savannah. I can hear her damn cellphone alarm beeping, and I'm scared as hell she's going to turn and walk out of my life, maybe for good. Not that I'd blame her. I acted like a douchebag, and I deserve whatever she wants to throw my way.

  I usually hold back when I'm with a girl. I'm usually thinking about the whole entire situation, analyzing, paying attention to making it good, but also making sure that I have half an eye on everything going on around me.

  This is nothing like that. I think a bomb could have gone off next to us, and I wouldn't have noticed. She tastes better than I could have imagined she would, sweeter and darker, with the unexpected bite of her teeth on my lip that makes me yank her closer and kiss her deeper.

  When I pull back, her eyes are wide, icy circles and her lips are fat and bruised from my mouth on them. I want to say something suave, something to convince her not to leave.

  I have nothing.

  She opens her mouth and says, "Do you want a hamburger instead of pizza?"

  Maybe I should be worried she isn't more into the kiss, but I'm just happy she isn't going anywhere. I rush around to get her door, drive like crazy to the nearest Five Guys, and feel like I don't breathe until she's standing at the register with me, eyes squinted at the menus overhead, one hip slanted close to mine.

  "I'd like a bacon cheeseburger, lettuce, tomato, grilled onion, grilled mushroom, mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard...and relish. No! No relish. Please. And thank you." She looks over at me like she's going to ask a question, then looks back at the poor guy behind the counter. "And a bacon cheese dog. And Cajun fries, please."

  "I'll have what the lady's having, and we'll need two sodas," I tell the guy, who is trying to call out the colossal order to the girl cooking the food. I pay, get the receipt, and follow Evan to the fountain, where she's getting a root beer. "There's gonna be more topping than burger on your burger."

  "Yours too." She dunks a straw in the soda and swirls it around to get rid of the foam on top. "You ordered the same as me."

  She clicks the lid on her soda and depresses all the flavor indicator buttons.

  "I didn't want to cause mass confusion in the kitchen. I figured it would be easier if they just had to remember one crazy order twice." I get a Coke and lead her to a table. "Plus that, I'm not picky about food, and I have a feeling you know how to order a good meal."

  "One of my many talents." She sits back in her chair and smoothes a piece of long, dark hair between her fingers. "I'm not sure we should be on this date. I'm not sure this is such a good idea."

  "It's not." I watch her eyes and lips shift down.

  She balls up her straw wrapper and flicks it across the table at me. "Why are we here then?"

  "We met in court. I don't think we qualify as good decision makers."

  I'm trying to keep things light, but she looks more and more restless, and I realize this date is still on serious probation, no matter how crazy-amazing our kiss was.

  Before I can pull together something to show how our being together on this date makes sense, our number gets called and I bring our heaping piles of food back to Evan, who's wriggling with excitement like a little kid.

  Lala, my ex, smoked and chewed a lot of gum, which tended to translate into her never being hungry. That was true for most of my exes, so I'm not really prepared for Evan's undisguised enjoyment of this monstrous burger. Or how much it turns me on.

  She closes her eyes and chews slowly, moaning a little around her mouthful of food.

  "Oh. Oh my sweet baby Jesus. Even if we never go on another date, I will always remember this burger fondly."

  The way she relishes every bite of this food makes it hard for me to take my eyes off of her and pseudo distracts me from the fact that she maybe said we wouldn’t be going on any more dates.

  "Seriously? All it takes is one burger to make a horrible date with me worth it?"

  "It's an amazing burger. But I have a food history with them anyway." She points to the burger, gushing ketchup and mayo and all kinds of vegetables out of the bun, and shakes her head. "My dad has a gambling addiction. Whether his horses won or lost, he always took me out for a burger. At first, it would turn my stomach if it wasn't a win. But, after enough losses, I figured out that I'd tear my stomach to shreds if I worried like that. So all I concentrated on was the burger. Now it's one of those foods I can eat no matter how awful I feel."

  She takes another huge bite and keeps her eyes on the napkins she has balled in her fist.

  I imagine her wolfing down burgers as a kid, first all nervous, then with stubborn determination. A weird kind of pride jumps to life in me at the thought of her being that incredibly courageous in the face of what had to be a pretty shitty situation with her father. "Alright. I get that. In a screwed up way, it makes a lot of sense."

  She leans her head to the side and narrows her eyes at me. "Really? Because I think it's kind of weird."

  And, because I've fucked up so much on this date, I take a big step forward and loosen the disguise I wear for everyone else. Because she makes me want to strip away the stupid mask I hold up for everyone else and just be honest. Be myself.

  For once.

  "It's my thing to be cool," I start. She gasps out a laugh, biting her lower lip to stop it in its tracks. "Alright, smartass, not in front of you, obviously. But, generally, I keep my cool. I...handle things. When shit gets crazy, gets out of control, I step in and sort things out. So I get exactly what you're saying. Sometimes I gotta drink when I'm not thirsty or stay up when I want to sleep or laugh with a big group of idiots when I want to sit in a dark room and just think."

  Saying it is like ripping the curtains down and throwing the windows open in some hidden, secret room I've been trapped in for years. My heart runs crazy laps around my chest.

  "Are you a secret agent?" she demands, wiping a smear of ketchup from her mouth with a napkin and leaning across the table, close to me, her eyes laughing.

  I think about how what I do was part of what made Lala and all the girls before her so hot for me. I wonder if it would turn Evan on if she understood more. Or if she'd run the other way as fast as she could.

  I crumple up my hamburger wrapper. "Uh, no."

  She dumps the fries out on a spread of napkins in front of us. "Super hero?"

  "You met me in court." I drag a few fries through the ketchup and watch her chew and wonder.

  "A misun
derstood super hero?" she asks between bites. When I don't say anything, she presses, "Like Magneto?"

  "You like the X Men?" I try to tone down my total shock.

  I'm aware that there are tons of girls who do like the X Men, but none of my ex-girlfriends ever did. Evan is completely different than any other girl I’ve ever been with in every possible way, and I love it.

  I’m shocked just how much I love it. I thought I knew exactly my type when it came to girls, but it winds up I had no idea. Or maybe I just don’t have a type; because I can’t imagine anyone else like her, and I can’t imagine wanting to be with anyone but her.

  She looks legitimately surprised. "Of course. Everyone likes the X Men." I remember Lala whining through the last X Men movie we watched and choose to ignore Evan's inaccuracy and listen to her maniac explanation instead. "Magneto will never be a villain in my eyes. Never. What happened to his mother, what he went through, it made him who he is, and excuses his crimes, I don't care how extreme they are."

  It's a comic book. She's talking about a comic book, not me, I remind myself as I wrestle with the urge to grab her face and kiss her hard. I can hardly stay in my chair.

  "So you think people can do bad things for good reasons?" I press, and I'm relieved she doesn't seem to notice how suspiciously anxious I am for her answer.

  "Of course." She pauses, fries held in midair, thinking it through. "Yes." She nods, more convinced every second. "It happens all the time. And I'm in no place to judge. I'm always doing stupid things for stupid reasons, and I should know better."

  I'm twisting her innocent confession and making it into something that applies to me and the idiot decisions I've been making for the last few years. The ones even I can't really come to terms with. She's talking about Magneto and her little accidental foray into arson.

  This has nothing to do with the lifestyle I live and the sacrifices I have to make and keep making.