Skater Boy (Patchwork House Book 1)

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  “Why is it such a problem that I’m down here?” Silence followed her question. I knew it had nothing to do with the party and everything to do with me. “I didn’t even do anything,” she continued. “I just vomited in a closet and went for a ride.”

  “Some days I forget you’re a teenager, then you pull this shit.” Her jaw dropped farther, but before King could drag her again, she shook him off and stormed inside. At the door, she threw me one last look.

  Curiosity.

  Disappointment.

  Then her eyes landed on her gods.

  “Well happy fucking birthday.” She slammed the door.

  King descended the stairs and pulled me by the back of my shirt. “I said watch her not kiss her. Are you so fucking corrupt that you can’t see how wrong this is?”

  I had nothing, no excuse. Even as King threatened to break my nose, I stared at the door. Stared at where she’d been moments before, her bracelet cutting into the skin of my palm.

  Knowing that no matter how wrong it was, I could never let Tweetie go.

  Nineteen

  Tic-tac: Repeatedly turning the body and skateboard from one side to the other.

  TWEETIE

  Present

  “Happy Birthday!” King opened my door with a chipper voice—as much as he could be chipper.

  Another happy fucking birthday…

  “I don’t feel like celebrating my birthday today,” I said without sitting up, eyes wandering to my window, catching glances of Flip outside skateboarding.

  Still using my board, sort of like the way he used me.

  The way I let him.

  Up and down the bowl, like a pendulum swinging. His dark curls blew in the breeze. His shirt lifted as he descended, revealing a cruelly toned Adonis belt. Skater boys always had the best Adonis belt from all the twists and turns they did. One of the reasons I was such a sucker for them growing up.

  I sighed, fell back on my bed with a bounce. We hadn’t so much as looked at each other since my comp, let alone talked.

  Of course I didn’t win.

  I could still feel their stares. The ramp had felt miles long.

  Pro ho.

  I knew that’s what they were whispering. I’d just been caught with Flip, the Flip. I’d had a snowball’s chance in hell of winning before I was the chick screwing Flip.

  “What are you looking at?” King craned his neck, trying to see. I pushed his face away, changing the subject and sitting up.

  “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” The lie bled through my body in visions of Flip. “It’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” Except it’s totally different. I believed Flip might like me. The words, the touches, the almost-kiss might mean something more than strings to yank at my heart.

  There was one moment after I finished my set when I thought he might talk to me, come tell me it wasn’t all in my head, and I could apologize for the way I’d reacted after we’d been blown up on screen. Instead he just left. Now it’s been silence.

  I broke my rules.

  And here I was, hurt.

  King gave me his patented I know what you’re really thinking, narrow-eyed glare. “And we can fix it, just like we did before.”

  I sighed.

  I knew how they fixed it.

  You hurt people.

  I don’t know why I was thinking about that now. The night I’d nearly kissed the mysterious boy who would become my everything, when I learned just how far they would go for me.

  The boy who called me ugly came to school with a serious black eye, but I’d always considered that a fluke. When King and my gods stormed in after me, I pieced it together.

  We’ll fuck up anybody who even makes you think about crying and everyone in this town knows it.

  It wasn’t just the dicks at my competitions; it was everyone and anyone who hurt me.

  After that, I didn’t talk to my gods for a week.

  Part of me wanted to fight back. When everyone played dirty, it was tempting to play dirty too. But then it didn’t feel like a win.

  King grabbed my hand and yanked me out of bed. I stumbled.

  “No more moping. We’re going snowboarding. Happy Birthday, Tweetie.”

  “I don’t want to,” I grumbled petulantly, feeling even more childish. Inside I perked up. I loved snowboarding and we rarely got to go, it was too expensive. King folded his arms, staring holes through me like when I was a kid.

  “There are other competitions. This isn’t the end.”

  “It’s my fault,” I whispered. Everything. All of it. I didn’t know how I let myself get into this. My competitions were all I should be focusing on, but instead of boards, I’m ruminating on boys.

  I could feel the questions King wanted to ask like gravity pressing heavy on my neck.

  “First one down the mountain owes the other fries?”

  A smile cracked my lips. “I’ll hold you to it.”

  I rubbed my shoulders. It was a lot colder than I’d expected. Even as we all crowded around a fire. It lit our group up and made the night around us tight and dark, a shadow trying to embrace us. I put my hands against the bonfire, warming them from red to pink.

  “Um, blah blah, avalanche warning in backcountry, no going out at night alone, blah blah—let’s shred!” Sparky tossed the warning paper in the air and Daniel snatched it before it landed in the fire, proceeding to list the no-go zones.

  The way Sparky had read it reminded me of Romeo, a sudden pang of sadness hitting my gut. The most I heard him now was on recorded music, and no one had said how or why he left.

  “I told you to bring a thicker jacket,” King said, sitting on a log next to me. “Here, I grabbed yours anyway.” He reached into his duffle and placed it on my shoulders.

  “Thanks.” I tightened it, staring through the flames to where Flip sat, Penelope and Sparky on either side of him.

  He hadn’t looked at me once.

  Not once.

  I exhaled jaggedly into my drink.

  “Why aren’t all of you together anymore?” Penelope whined. She sat next to Flip, knees angled to his, eyes locked on his every movement.

  “Because when they come together, the world ends,” Flip joked. Joked. While I wondered what our kiss meant, while I hoped he would look at me, he was fine. Nothing ever mattered to him, anyway. Why had I thought I would be different?

  Inside I crumbled.

  “Too much power in one place,” Daniel agreed.

  “I miss Romeo,” another said.

  Me too.

  “But we have King, and Daniel, and Flip,” she crooned, hearts practically falling out of her eyes. But she kept looking at Daniel as if to make sure he was watching.

  “Flip’s not part of Patchwork,” I sputtered.

  “He’s the lost Rebel God, you idiot,” Penelope said. Sunken, drunk memories floated to the surface.

  The lost Rebel God.

  Where had I heard that?

  Everyone shot her daggers, but she was drunk and had something to prove. “He’s a founding member of Patchwork House and before you came along—” Suddenly she clammed up. “I mean, I misspoke. It was only three.” I had a feeling she’d been wanting to say that to me for a long, long time by the way it fell out of her like candy from a broken vending machine.

  “That’s not even a convincing lie. If you want to make me look dumb, try harder.” I laughed into my beer, but when it grew quiet, night air cool and pressing, I looked up. King’s face was a stone mask while he stared at her. Daniel watched her as well, lips a hard line. By their faces, I’d be surprised if she was let back at Patchwork, which for a girl like her may as well be a death sentence. By the way her face broke as she stared at the snow, she knew.

  She couldn’t be serious, could she? Flip insisted he never lived at Patchwork, not really. If so, when did he leave? And why? And how had I not heard of it? Our town was tiny. The underground community? Even tinier.

  “What?” I broke the silence. “What
is she talking about?” Everyone was quiet. It was like they were in on some giant secret. “Is what she said true?” My voice wavered. There was no way they could keep such a giant secret from me, but my heart thudded, my fingers grew numb. Why wouldn’t someone just say something?

  I’d lived here. As far as I knew, there were only three founding members of Patchwork. My eyes traveled back between King and Daniel, who seemed determined not to look at me. What reason was there to keep that from me? I thought to the wall. The larger-than-life mural of a god they insisted existed only in my dreams.

  Then I looked to Flip.

  Who for the first time in twenty-four hours finally looked back.

  He stood up so quickly the log shook, and Penelope and Sparky fell off in his wake.

  I stood seconds after.

  King grabbed my arm.

  “What?” I snapped. He tilted his head, telling me not to leave. His jaw could break stone it was so tight. “I need to pee. Are you going to tell me I can’t pee, King?”

  He breathed fire through his nostrils, but let me go.

  FLIP

  “Flip, wait!” Tweetie called for me, crunching footfalls growing closer as she tried to catch up. “Flip, stop!”

  I kept going. I had imagined this day over and over again. The thing was, I never got to the end. It was a movie without enough film. How did I tell her who I really was without hurting her?

  All I’d wanted to do was rent a damn cabin and give her a nice birthday.

  One drunk girl fucked everything up.

  “Flip!” Her voice gave out like she was falling and I spun just in time, catching her before she crashed to the snow. She was breathless, hat fallen and landing in the powder, revealing a wild, curly yellow halo.

  She was so fucking beautiful.

  She glanced up at me, blue eyes wide. “Was anything you told me that day true?”

  With that, reality came crashing.

  I dropped her like hot coals and kept walking. I had no destination in mind. The truth dangled on a precipice. One side of me desperately wanted to fall and let her know, the other paled at the thought.

  “Was it all a lie?” she yelled at my back. “On Angel’s Wings. Your parents. Your fears. Is this who you really are? A liar, a player, and apparently Corrupt. After yesterday, I was starting to think I misjudged you, now I realize that was a trick too.”

  I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Is that what you think? That I…I—”

  “Tried to kiss me,” she gritted.

  “Right. Yeah.” I took a breath, voice low, eyes on the ground. “You think I did that to throw you off?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” she said on a sigh. I could picture it, picture the way her frustrated breath would blow her curls up. “I don’t know what your intentions are with me, Flip. None of this makes any sense. You’ve ignored me all day. You haven’t even made eye contact with me. Now I’m hearing you not only lived here but founded the place.”

  If I was a good person I would leave forever. Let King make up some bullshit about how I was once one of the stray kids who wander into Patchwork from time to time, needing a temporary family until they’re ready for their permanent one. It was all a misunderstanding. We could let this be a nearly harmless blip.

  But I wanted to kiss her because I loved her, because I couldn’t stop loving her even though it was the worst thing for both of us.

  “I know I ran away,” she said, voice small. “I was startled and my competition was starting…”

  In a flash, I spun and pulled her until her chest was pressed to mine. Her gasp was hot musical steam. I lessened my grip on her biceps, rubbing my thumb along her coat. I loved her eyes, loved how even when she had every reason to push me away, she looked at me like she just wanted to heal me. I didn’t deserve it.

  I wanted it anyway.

  She tilted her chin, lips parted, giving me the signal.

  My last chance to be decent.

  I slid one hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer.

  “Flip.” King’s voice was sharpened steel slashing through the night.

  “God fucking dammit,” I said on a frustrated breath, eyes going to the sky, before settling back on her. Enthralling pools of blue filled with uncertainty.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, so quietly King couldn’t hear. “Don’t let go.”

  I tightened my grip a fraction, then released her because I knew I never should have pulled her to me in the first place. Her shoulders fell with her face, with the small release of her lips when my hands dropped.

  Don’t let go.

  A deep, hard bob of her throat, a swallow I knew was tears. It landed hard in my gut. Tweetie and tears wrecked me beyond anything else. I would do anything to make sure they never fell. Yet here I was, causing them.

  Then she spun. Running back to the bonfire. She sat on the log, head turned from me. I was still watching her when I spoke to King, anger on my tongue.

  “Is your new job professional cock blocker?” I bit out. He folded his arms and I tore off my hat, ran a ragged hand through my dark waves. “What do you want?”

  “Should I spell it out for you? Hire a skywriter? Get you a damn hearing aid? Leave Tweetie alone like we agreed.”

  “So you and her can live happily ever after? She isn’t even the one you want, dude. And you know it. Stop fucking around with my girl and go after yours.” I knew it was a low blow the minute it passed my lips.

  King blinked. I rarely saw him stunned. He was the kind of man who saw the punch coming, actually reveled in the pain. A guy like that wasn’t caught off guard easily.

  But here he was, stunned.

  And I felt like shit.

  He unfolded his arms, speared his hands into his jeans. Both of our eyes traveled to Tweetie, talking with Daniel, who was giving her some advice on how to make s’mores. A distraction technique from her sadness.

  When King spoke again, his voice was softer.

  I kept my eyes on her.

  “I’m not saying this to be a dick.”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to sound like one anyway.”

  “I’m saying this because I can’t have the girl. I know what you’re feeling more than anyone.”

  This was the first real conversation King and I had had in years. It was almost like before everything got fucked. When we could be real with one another. When we called each other on our shit but knew we had the other’s back.

  I met his eyes.

  “What’s your end goal here? Are you going to lie to her forever? Get married, have babies, and keep quiet forever the reason you know everything about her is because you’re the boy who killed her father?”

  I knew he wasn’t saying that to be an asshole, which honestly, made it worse. I wish I could’ve punched something, started a fight so I didn’t have to think about my answer. King's hard, granite stare was unrelenting, but there was no animosity there. I loosed an openmouthed exhale and stared at the darkening sky.

  I didn’t know.

  So I pushed those thoughts away. “Who do you think you are?”

  He reeled. “I’m the person you entrusted to protect her. From everyone. Even you.” And just like that, my anger dissipated.

  Replaced with the true emotion.

  Shame.

  I dragged two hands through my hair, tangling it.

  “I thought you finally saw the light,” he said.

  “She followed me.” After staring me down all night, hurt in her eyes like a hot lance to my side. “She came to me.”

  He wasn’t convinced. “That’s all it takes, she shows up and you give in?”

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation.

  Silence. A heavy, loaded breath.

  “Just leave, Flip,” King said without anger. Without anything. “It was a mistake coming back.”

  Once upon a time, we’d been best friends. Brothers.

  A part of me was holding on to the hope I’d fix that too, bu
t now I finally saw how foolish I’d been.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “It was.”

  TWEETIE

  It was four-thirty in the morning. I could still hear the faint sounds of partying, of those clinging to the last shreds of debauchery like night clung to the sky. I hadn’t slept. Daniel and King ushered me to bed, probably hoping I wouldn’t think any more about what Penelope let slip.

  I’d asked tons of questions about Flip. How long did he live here? Why did he leave? Most importantly: why didn’t you tell me?

  We’ll talk about it later.

  Later meant never.

  I just didn’t understand why they lied, and that question got reworked over and over in my head as I stared at the ceiling. Until the house was quiet, until a new day broke. Flip wasn’t a bad person, but maybe he believed he was. He was just like everyone else here, like me, a patchwork. Tragedy had sewn itself into the bright colors of his life. I saw it in him. I just wished he would stop pushing me away and open up to me.

  Trust I wouldn’t judge him.

  I threw off my covers, snuck into the hall growing light by dawn. Down to where I knew he was sleeping. I gently pushed open the door.

  Flip was on the floor again, sitting up. Shirtless. The moonlight reflected off his muscled, olive chest. One arm draped over his leg, dark eyes staring straight at me. It was like he was waiting for me.

  “You should go.”

  “Probably,” I agreed, but stayed put. Slowly he stood, and with each step he took, my heart pounded louder than a drum.

  He stopped a few inches from me. Far enough away that I’d have to stretch to reach him. Close enough that I could hear his breathing, smell his clean, intoxicating scent. It wasn’t cologne, or shampoo, or gum, or even laundry. It was just…him.

  He smelled like a never-ending weekend. Wild nights and cozy memories. Warm, sweet, flirtatious, and a little savage.

  Silence passed, my heart rate dripping to an ache between my thighs. I chewed my bottom lip and his stare dropped to the motion, before gliding slow and leisurely back to my eyes, memorizing every contour on my face.