I wondered if he knew how much I wanted this. Could he tell by the flush on my skin? Could he hear the way my heart ran toward him like a startled deer?
He went to scrounge for supplies.
One blanket. Two pieces of firewood. A box of matches.
“I’ll get the fire started. You take off your clothes.”
I blinked, mouth a puffer fish.
He grinned wolfishly and was on me in a second flat. “To dry and get warm. What were you thinking?”
Getting naked in front of Flip? No boy, let alone man, had ever seen me naked. My Rebel Gods had made sure of that. I didn’t want Flip to know that. I wanted him to keep thinking of me as a badass. One woman against an institution.
I chewed on my lip. “I think I’ll just freeze.”
His grin evaporated. “I’ll strip you before I let you freeze.” I hiccupped at the idea. After another long look, he started the fire.
He faced the door as I peeled off my wet and frozen clothes. My eyes were glued to him, expecting him to turn around at any moment, heart thudding. But he watched the door like it was a blockbuster movie.
I slid under the blanket, still staring at him. Pulled it up to my chin.
The only thing left was the beanie. But I was scared to take it off. Scared to be completely naked.
“Okay…you can turn around.”
He waited another moment, then turned. His smile dropped, the look on his face and tightness in his jaw making my heart flip.
“That’s a good look on you,” he finally said with a smile, but gone was the wolfishness in his eyes.
Replaced was something softer, like the firelight.
I gripped the blanket harder.
He came to me and gently slid the beanie off, placing it with the rest of the clothes to be warmed. Then he gave me generous space, sitting against the door. I wondered if he was cold. His jeans were wet. He hadn’t even worn proper snowboarding gear. He’d only removed his shirt to warm by the fire.
We’d been so close to kissing but now, with room to breathe, I couldn’t help but think about how only a day before he’d shoved me away with cruel, cruel words.
“I thought you only dated pretty girls.” I tried to say it nonchalantly, and I’m sure I failed.
“Tweetie, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”
I choked on a breath.
Flip smiled.
I rubbed my chest, trying to soothe my breathing and heart rate at the same time. It was difficult with Flip watching me so intensely.
After steadying my breathing, I asked quietly, “Then why would you say something so hurtful?” Silence stretched. He looked away.
“Nothing I say will be good enough,” he said.
“No more secrets. Please.”
Three heartbeats, a stare that throbbed with each count. The fire burst like pop rocks and I jumped just as he spoke.
“I was afraid.”
My brow creased. “Of what?” More silence. Flip’s jaw locked tight. I sighed. Would he ever let me in?
He took a breath, muscles rippling cruelly.
“You.”
I swallowed, suddenly unable to speak. Flip continued.
“Everything I told you was the truth, Tweetie. My mom was an addict. She left me. I never met my dad.” My heart crumbled. His truth had me inching closer to him, it was instinct to offer him comfort. “That wasn’t a lie.” The earnestness in his eyes, in his voice, made me believe him.
“Then why did you lie about Patchwork?”
He paused. Flip’s stare found the fire, flickering and gold.
“I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. About who I was. Where I came from. I had something great at Patchwork and I broke it. I didn’t want that to happen with you.” All at once he looked right at me.
I paused, his stare glowed brighter than the flames. I didn’t look away even though I couldn’t breathe
“Tweetie I want you. I want you more than anything. I can’t lose you, but I can’t hurt you either. Both possibilities have me frozen. Fuck.” He looked away. “I’m such a fucking coward.”
All the things about Flip that hadn’t added up—the broken smiles, the hollow confidence—suddenly made sense. He was like me, afraid. Afraid of being vulnerable, of not having somewhere to belong. He wouldn’t say it, but I knew it intimately. As much as I wanted to be fearless, that’s all I felt: fear.
“You have me.” It fell out of my mouth before I could think to hold it back.
Flip’s chocolate eyes flashed to mine. The only sound was the crackle and pop of the fireplace. Suddenly I was aware of how naked I was. Our conversation had dulled it, but now the knowledge was back with painful clarity.
I looked for something to lighten the mood. His tattoo glowed and flickered inky in the firelight.
“So, how many other dicks do you have on your body?” I tried to laugh but it came out in halting, nervous breaths. Flip’s hand settled absently on his ribcage, his stare burned.
“I only have the one on my arm.”
“Then what does your rib mean?” I asked. He tilted his head, watching me until goose bumps slid up and down my body.
“I guess you could say it’s a love note.” Serious Flip was the most dangerous. More dangerous than cocky Flip, even more dangerous than flirty Flip. I suddenly wished I had a paper bag to breathe into.
“Oh.” The word was barely audible. Flip didn’t offer any more explanation, but I didn’t press. His eyes were dark, my throat thick. Goose bumps pricked my flesh, but out of nerves, not cold. It was the way he stared at me unrelentingly. No amount of space could cure that.
I tightened the blanket to my chest.
“Tell me more about this checklist,” he said, voice lighter.
My lips parted. What a random question. “What about it?”
“There’s a boy who met it, right?”
“Almost.” One boy. Nate. As ridiculous as it was, I felt guilty, like I was cheating on Flip with Nate—someone I never expected to meet again, but whose lips nevertheless cemented themselves in my heart, and whose late night lesson in freedom and courage irrevocably shaped my future.
Nate met all of my rules…except one.
Flip broke all of my rules…except one.
No kissing until I’m absolutely certain they love me.
My heart yearned for Flip.
I wanted him on me.
In me.
All at once Flip stood, bent down before me, dragged his thumb across my lip.
My mouth froze mid-word.
“You had something on your lip,” he said, licking it. “Tastes like…you.” He tilted his head, lips curving with wicked humor. I nodded, unable to speak past the heat scorching my belly. I stared at his mouth, wanting to know what he tasted like too. An unbridled need now sewed itself along my veins.
Flip sat back against the door like nothing had happened. Firelight glowed against his well-defined upper body. My fingers tingled, vividly remembering the way the muscles felt against them.
Nerves hummed under my skin.
“Want to hear a story?” he asked after a minute. We stared at one another in warm, saturated silence. I began to wonder if he was asking me so many questions to help rid me of my nerves.
I nodded, throat too thick to form words.
“My grandmother was Taiwanese, but she only knows Japanese because of the Japanese occupation. I know Mandarin…”
My heart stopped.
Just stopped working.
I suddenly couldn’t hear him, couldn’t think above the roaring in my ears.
It couldn’t be.
I’d heard this story. The night Nate gave me one one-thousandth of a wish and disappeared for two years. Only to return to set off a domino chain of events leading to my first and last kiss with him, and me leaving Patchwork.
It had to have been just a coincidence.
But…
What if it wasn’t?
Flip must have
mistaken my silence for more nerves because he kept talking. I stared at him trying to reconstruct drunk memories. Was it possible?
“What’s your name?” I blurted. “Your real name.”
Flip blinked. “Nate.”
Twenty-Three
Early Grab: Grabbing your board before the transition.
TWEETIE
Some time ago
Tweetie is 18, Flip is 23
I thought about the mysterious boy I nearly kissed every day for two years. The boy who dragged me through the gates of Heaven’s Court, but opened another and taught me street style. I kept his crane on my nightstand, falling asleep every night to the pretty pink pattern.
I asked my gods, but they still gave me nothing.
Drop it, King said a few days ago. Stop asking me this fucking question.
Another rule. Another locked Patchwork door.
One morning I slammed my hand on the nightstand, looking for the crane. It wasn’t there, but I wasn’t immediately alarmed.
Maybe it had fallen off in the night.
I searched high and low in my room but couldn’t find it.
“Have you seen a crane?” I asked my gods. “It’s like…this big.” I made a claw with my pointer and thumb. Romeo raised his head from the couch an inch, clearly hung over, and shook his head.
Daniel gave me an apologetic no.
King glanced up then his eyes widened. “Put some goddamn clothes on.” I looked down at my outfit. I was in a shirt and pajama pants. I always wore this around the house. The only difference between this and my normal clothes was the lack of sports bra.
I looked at Daniel and Romeo for help. They shrugged.
“Have you seen it?” I asked King again.
“I’m not talking until you put some fucking clothes on.”
“These are my pajamas. I always wear this. I’ve worn these clothes for years.” I was so nonplussed. Why was he acting this way?
“You’re not a kid anymore, Tweetie. Cover up.” He gestured to my chest. Instinctively, I folded my arms, feeling exposed even though this was what I wore every day.
“You’re not wearing a shirt,” I pointed out. “Romeo is in his underwear.” And that was a lot of clothes for Romeo.
“We’re men.”
My mouth dropped. Betrayal and indignation froze my veins. I wanted to argue, but that wasn’t why I came down here. “Have you seen it?” I repeated, tone icy.
“Saw it. Tossed it.”
It took me a minute to realize what he meant. “You tossed it? Why?”
He shrugged without looking at me. “Thought it was garbage.”
Anger, sadness, shock—it all swirled in my gut.
I ran to the kitchen and knocked over the trash, searching through the refuse.
The lines were always blurred with King: brother, best friend, father figure.
I often wondered how blurry the lines got for him. As I grew up, I saw him with women, but they never lasted long. I was always his priority.
I never asked to be, but I never had to. We were an unconventional family. He couldn’t teach me how to wear makeup or how to do my hair, but he was there for me when I started my period and bought my first bra. He was the only one I wanted to tell about my first kiss. He saved up money to buy me new skateboards.
He was my family.
Which is why this broke my heart.
If the crane had been tossed in the kitchen, it was long gone now. I gave up, pissed and disappointed. King leaned against the frame.
“You don’t get to control my love life,” I said.
He ground his teeth. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then why? Why would you take it? What other reason is there?”
“I’m trying to protect you!” He rubbed between his eyes with one finger.
“From a paper bird?” I knew I shouldn’t have responded with sarcasm, but I was so fed up. King’s face became a mask. His mouth sealed shut.
With a frustrated scream, I stormed out of the house.
FLIP
For two years I kept the gates at Heaven’s Court closed. I stayed away. Heaven Falls was small but divided. Other towns of our size were so close it was impossible to hide, but not ours. We gossiped in myth. Before coming here, I didn’t know a thing about the other side. I was Corrupt, they were Incorrupt, and that’s as far as it went. There was still so much I didn’t know, even now. Parties, sweeping ballrooms, old buildings with mysterious names.
The only things the Corrupt and Incorrupt shared were Devil’s Hill and Heaven Falls, the waterfall.
So hiding from Tweetie was easy.
I immersed myself in watching Pip. I tried to distract myself with girls. They always had interest in me, considered me a bad boy from beyond the gates. I even kept King’s family happy.
We took a picture together.
A fucking picture. It sat on the mantle like we were some kind of family.
Still, all I thought about was Tweetie.
I fell back on the bed with a sigh. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about her?
Bizzy leaned in the doorway. “Are you upset because we took a photo together? I tried to tell them you wouldn’t want to. They don’t really listen to me. Or anyone.”
“I…” I trailed off. No. I was a little wary, maybe. Years later and I kept waiting for the shoe to drop. I’m pretty sure they only did it to make King jealous.
They wouldn’t actually want me on the mantle.
“Just thinking,” I said.
“Is that code for kid?”
I grimaced. It should be code for kid. What the fuck is wrong with me? “Girl,” I said. “It’s code for girl I absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about.” A long silence. They’d put the photo of us up on the dusty, iron blue wall in King’s room, next to the old family photo featuring King. I closed my eyes.
“You can’t help who you love,” Bizzy said. “If you could, everyone would be so much happier. But also not, you know? Because the struggle is what’s worth it—I hope,” she added softly.
I opened one eye, looking at her. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me, Bizzy?”
Her eyes grew, caught.
“No,” she said quickly. “I’m just saying it’s pointless to fight what your heart wants. You should follow it, even it leads you to the edge of the earth.”
If Bizzy knew the whole story, she wouldn’t have given me this advice.
I knew that, and yet, I let her words lead me to the edge.
I arrived at Patchwork just as Tweetie stormed out of the house in nothing but a loose top and pajama pants. Fury was written across her face. King followed to the brink of the porch, yelling after her. She flipped him the bird over her shoulder and he stopped, defeat in the weight of his shoulders.
Why was I here? I couldn’t understand why I had such trouble staying away from her. I’d always had problems following rules, call it a character flaw. It was one of the reasons us Patchwork crew got along so well. But this was different.
This was my rule. I knew I needed to fuck off and let Tweetie live her life.
I followed her.
Tweetie had aged well. It was fucked up to think that about the once-little-girl I’d saved, but then, I’d traded my soul to Devil’s Hill a long time ago.
Every time I came to Tweetie, I told myself it would be the last time, but my draw to her kept growing. We were connected through a tragedy that should have destroyed any seedling of a relationship. Instead we bloomed. She was the only one who saw me. Even as a shadow, even in the dark, she saw me.
The real me.
“Who’s there?” Her head turned sharply at the sound of wet grass sliding beneath my shoes. “King?”
I scratched my neck, staying hidden. “Not quite.”
“You sound like the boy from the bedroom…” She trailed off, uncertain.
“You sound like the girl from the bedroom.”
She laughed. “I should be worried. This is stalk
er behavior.”
It was my turn to laugh. Yeah.
“Well, are you going to come out?”
“Do you not remember what I look like?” I hedged.
“You were all bundled up,” she said. “And I might have been a little drunk…”
“Understatement,” I said dryly, and she laughed again. God, I loved her laugh.
“How are you here right now? It’s like you knew I was thinking about you.” She’d been thinking about me? Fuck. I wanted to ask her how often. Was it possible it was as much as I did her? Daily. Hourly.
“You were the one who dragged me back from Heaven’s Court, right?” I didn’t say anything. “How do you know the Rebel Gods? Who are you? No one will tell me anything.”
“I can answer your questions, or I can stay, but not both. Not tonight.” One untouched, perfectly preserved memory. That’s what I told myself, at least. Before I left her for good.
She mulled it over. “Okay, no questions.” A breeze blew. She fiddled with her thumbs. “I…I lost your crane.”
“Lost?”
“It was…confiscated.” Immediately I knew who took it. She dove into what happened and it was a breath of fucking fresh air. These rare moments when she opened up were like fucking crack to me.
I never wanted her to stop.
“I just…I don’t understand. Why would he take my crane, and why would he get upset with how I’m dressing?”
“Sounds like he likes you.” I looked at the house. I had a suspicion that King was developing feelings for Tweetie. He wasn’t like me, twisted in the head because the little girl we’d brought in was no longer little. King was ignoring his real feelings.
Pip had sent a letter.
Pip was waiting.
King, for some reason, wouldn’t go to her.
She laughed. “No. No way. That would never happen.”
I bit my tongue.
Silence passed, a wet breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. It had been an unusually warm winter, with many wintry showers instead of snowstorms. Now as we headed into spring the stars were a shimmering blur beneath puffy clouds. They were getting ready to open up, a final warning to leave.
Skater Boy (Patchwork House Book 1) Page 21
