Skater Boy (Patchwork House Book 1)

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  “Never take off my shirt.” His teeth came to my neck, a gentle scrape along the flesh. “Unless I tell you to.”

  Then he went inside, leaving my mouth aching, my gut empty, my legs weak.

  Inside I plopped between Romeo and Daniel on the couch, overheated and woozy. Romeo wasn’t drinking, his jeans were acid washed and perfectly tailored.

  He tugged at the hem like it was itchy or something, but it looked amazing. He raised a brow at my gaping.

  I shrugged. “You’re different.”

  “Same insides, different packaging.” I made a face, but even if Romeo was different, he was back. I scrunched myself against the couch happily.

  Finally we were all together.

  Over and over again, girls and boys came up to Romeo, asking for autographs. I could barely contain my joy for him, though he didn’t look happy. He smiled, gave them a Romeo grin, but it was like when I first met Flip. Hollow.

  “You, on the other hand,” Romeo said, after giving his one-thousandth autograph. “Same packaging, a bit different insides.” I tilted my head, not sure what he meant. He grinned wickedly and said, “You’re sharing those insides with someone special now, yeah?” His gaze shot to Flip, and my mouth dropped, fell to the floor.

  Daniel reached behind my back and smacked Romeo, uttered some names, which of course had no effect.

  Romeo lit a joint. At least that hadn’t changed. “Maybe it’s time to stop battling the wind.” He exhaled smoke up to the ceiling.

  My eyes locked with Flip’s.

  How long had he been watching me? He stared with purpose, even as he took a drink from a red cup, his eyes were locked with mine.

  It belongs to me. Do you know that? It always has.

  That’s what I felt when he looked at me. That was the inscrutable glint in his eyes, the thing that’s been bugging me since day one. Like he always knew we were meant to be, and even if I tried to fight, it would be useless.

  We were inevitable.

  My lips parted and his eyes darted to that. I could see the dirty thoughts in his head and as if he could see the ones heating up my own body, he tossed me a complete, bone-melting grin.

  “You alright, little girl?” Daniel asked after I shifted in my seat again. They followed my line of sight and shared a look, lips a tight line, something flickering between them. Worry maybe? But that couldn’t be right.

  “I…uh…” I couldn’t tear my gaze from Flip, his grin stretching cruelly. I swallowed. “So you’re a pop star now,” I said, turning to Romeo. “What’s that like?”

  Romeo’s face dropped—heartache—but he was saved by another autograph. I studied him a moment, his jeans, his short hair. The only thing still Romeo were the tattoos and piercings.

  I turned to Daniel on a whisper. “What made Romeo change so much?” He eyed me, then turned forward. I should’ve known better than to expect Daniel of all people to spill the beans.

  In my peripheral, I caught King's unmistakable tattoos disappearing upstairs. King hadn’t said a word to me since the cabin.

  I caught him right before he disappeared. “King!” He paused on the second to last step. I gripped the railing, leaning forward. He shifted like he wanted to keep walking. “Big brother…”

  Finally he turned around.

  Leaned against the wall, half hidden in shadows. Folded his arms, biceps bulging. He was always big, and over the years he just got bigger. Where Flip had a lean, swimmer’s body, those thin skater muscles that drove me mad, King was built to do damage.

  “What is it, Rae?”

  Rae.

  I nearly bowled over.

  He’d never called me by my real name, ever.

  “Was…” I trailed off, staring into his gray eyes for longer than I should have. Finally I shook my head, getting back to why I came. “Was Flip the reason you kissed me the night I left?” Everything else had fallen into place but this. Still my missing puzzle piece. The night I left. The night of my first kiss with Nate. The night King had come in bloody, angry, and kissed me after.

  King was silent, staring down at me with no emotion in his eyes.

  Nothing I could read.

  A long silence passed; music, laughter, glass shattering. I closed the distance until there was only one step between us. He was still so much taller, I had to crane my neck back.

  “I know Flip is the one who gave me the crane. I know he’s the one who was there that night I followed you to Heaven’s Court. I know Flip is Nate. I know everything.”

  His eyes narrowed a fraction, but he didn’t say anything.

  I sighed. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened?”

  King unfolded his arms, the mask he’d worn crumbling. Yet he looked above my head. “Do you remember when you watched The Shining for the first time?” I looked over my shoulder to where he was looking. Flip watched us, the look on his face not easily readable.

  I turned back to King. “What does that have to do with anything?” He shot me a raised brow, mouth a hard line. So reminiscent of my childhood. It was my turn to fold my arms. “I tried to crawl in your bed.”

  “I told you to sleep on the floor.”

  “Which was scarier because monsters under the bed,” I enunciated.

  “I woke up to you asleep at the foot of my bed like a fucking dog.”

  “You shouldn’t have shown that to a twelve-year-old.”

  He shrugged. “You were a pussy.”

  I shoved him. “What’s the point of this trip down memory lane, big brother King?” It was the first time he didn’t make a face at my nickname. I had a feeling this story was more than random reminiscing. He was trying to tell me something.

  It took awhile for him to respond. “You’ll always be safe with me.”

  I tried to lighten the mood. “At the foot of your bed?”

  He nodded to himself, lost somewhere I couldn’t see. “At the foot of my bed.” King walked away, disappeared up the stairs to his room in the attic.

  I knew he would always be my older brother, always be my King, so why did it feel like he was letting me go?

  All at once I was grabbed, ripped away, mouth covered so I wouldn’t scream. Fear crawled up my throat but was just as quickly replaced with heat.

  “Unfaithful.” Lips at my neck. “Wandering.” Teeth on my skin. “So easily swayed.” I melted when Flip spun me, immediately kissing me.

  Hollowed out my mouth.

  The world was hazy and rose-colored when he finished. He pushed back my hair. “You owe me a lesson.”

  TWEETIE

  I furrowed my brow. “A lesson?”

  “Time to teach me that move, Tweetie. You’ve got a debt to pay. Skating lessons aren’t free, remember?” I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but then he flashed me a smile and my stomach flipped. When he took my hand in his, leading me outside, I couldn’t think of anything else but his skin on mine.

  “So you really want to skateboard?” I eyed the ramp suspiciously. There was something leonine in his eyes that completely belied his nod. Still, I got to work.

  He was unbearably attractive when he skated, but it was intolerable when I taught him. He was patient. Kind. Never once making fun of me when I messed up.

  “Tell me the name of this trick,” he said. When I didn’t say anything, his mouth dropped. “You still haven’t thought of a name?”

  “Your feet are all wrong,” I said, pushing past the subject. I brought my hands to his waist, showing him how to move, and I had to remind my brain to focus because I needed to teach.

  His fingers slid between my thighs.

  My brain stuttered, then I slapped them away.

  He laughed, a self-satisfied full-bodied sound that did not help my brain get back to normal.

  “Just trying to steady myself.” He shrugged as if to apologize, but the wicked way he smiled said if I got close, he’d do it again.

  So I shoved him.

  He fell to his ass, and I chewed my cheek
to hide my smile.

  “First rule of skateboarding,” I said as I laughed. When I stopped, his eyes took my breath away. The intensity. The raw emotion. It did something to my gut. Made it squeeze and tighten, hot and fiery, then loosen like the first time I drank whiskey.

  He blinked.

  Then grinned.

  “Uh, you did good,” I said after we finished, looking at my thighs, worried he’d see the heat in my cheeks. He was one of the best skaters in the world. He definitely didn’t need me.

  “I had a good teacher,” he said. “But you’ve always been easy to teach. I’m not surprised you’re a good coach.” He winked at me and I tripped over my tongue. What did he mean I’d always been easy to teach? There was more behind his eyes, there was definitely more behind his words.

  Suddenly he changed the subject. “Tell me why you left Patchwork.”

  “You.” He didn’t blink for a good thirty seconds, and I knew I had to add more context. “The night we kissed it opened up something inside me. I realized how sheltered I was. I’d never known anything but Patchwork, and then King kissed me—”

  “King kissed you?” He growled so low it almost didn’t sound human.

  “Yes,” I said evenly, worried he’d run in and grab King by the collar and start another caveman fight. “But I only thought about you. For those two years, all I ever thought about was you.” I finished quietly, embarrassed. More silence, and this time I wondered if I’d shared too much, but then he leaned forward and all thoughts vanished.

  “All you thought about, huh?” he whispered on the lobe of my ear, before biting it. I released a shuddery breath, and then his hand slid up my jean-covered thigh, before curling inside. “What kinds of thoughts?”

  “Well, sometimes I thought about skating…” I was too hot, burning from the inside out, changing the subject so I could cool down.

  “You still need to name your trick, Tweetie,” he said, licking the new wound on my ear. How could he make such an innocuous thing sound so dirty?

  My breath was unsteady. “Maybe I’ll just never name it.”

  He laughed, the sound vibrating against my skin, down in my gut. “Tricks need names.”

  “Yeah, but…” I’d invented tricks before. I never named them.

  As if he knew what I was thinking, he gripped my face. The games ended. The double entendres shattered. And the intensity in his eyes stopped my breath.

  “Name it,” he said. “Own it. Let people know you did this.”

  FLIP

  Her eyes grew at my words, and I crushed my lips to hers. Losing my hands in her hair, her cheeks, up her shirt.

  I groaned. “You’re not wearing a bra?”

  Her gasp breezed my lips. “I didn’t have time to grab it this morning, remember?”

  I cursed in the same breath I said her name, diving for her neck. “I’m not complaining. No more bras. Ever.” Perfect soft skin, hot against my touch. The pads of my fingers ghosting her stomach, up the center between her breasts and around, teasing. She arched up as if giving herself to me in an offering, one I would gladly take.

  “Flip?” King's voice.

  Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell did he want?

  Professional. Cock. Blocker.

  Tweetie froze, I kept my hand up her shirt.

  “We have to go,” she whispered, trying to push me off. I stayed firm. I didn’t care. I wanted everyone to know what I’d known forever: Tweetie was mine.

  She would always be mine.

  Just like I was hers.

  “Show me a new face, Tweetie,” I said low, soft, and coaxing. “Show me what was stolen from me this morning.” King’s voice was getting closer, but we were hidden by the ramp, and I knew it wouldn’t take me long. I pushed her to the ramp, unbuttoned her jeans, and her lips parted, shock and desire melding into one.

  “I can’t not with…not with…” She trailed off into a sigh as my hand slid further down. I groaned into her neck.

  Fucking. Perfect.

  I dragged a finger down the center of her, kissing her in rhythm with her sighs, listening to her heartbeats.

  Blue eyes wide, then low and dusky.

  Her back rose and rose like the crescent moon above us.

  Her small, quiet cries fevered to match her nails scratching the wood. Then her breath caught, eyes stuck on me, shining with something so very close to awe. All at once she slackened.

  “There it is,” I said, and pressed my lips to her jaw.

  “Flip?” King called again, but all I saw was Tweetie. Her eyes were so beautifully misted. Aglow like an early morning sky. I bit her collarbone, leaving a tiny, visible mark, then buttoned her jeans and pulled down her shirt.

  King called again, and she blinked back into reality.

  She scrambled up. “I…” she breathed, running a hand down a still flushed face. I dragged my thumb across her lower lip, back and forth, pulling the panic off it with each stroke.

  “I’ll meet you inside,” I said quietly.

  Tweetie’s eyes creased with gratitude. I kept my thumb locked on her lower lip, then dropped it. She licked the place it had been absently before getting to her feet and going inside. King spared her a glance like he always spared her a glance.

  Just like that, the rosy filter Tweetie applied to my life vanished.

  King kissed me.

  I grabbed his shirt, blinded. “I fucking knew it. I fucking knew something went down that night. I think it’s time we settle this.”

  “Her favorite food is a peanut butter and banana sandwich,” King said.

  I blinked, taken off guard by the calm, almost defeated tone. King and I were always two bulls going head to head.

  I loosened my grip. “What?”

  “When she’s sick she likes tomato soup. She’ll lie and say she’s not hungry, but she wants food—and she will always lie and say she doesn’t want extra, but if you come back with anything less than extra she’ll look at you like you’ve betrayed her entire family.” King shook his head as if recalling the memory.

  I knew that already. I knew everything about Tweetie.

  I dropped him completely. We stood another minute. The thing that had simultaneously connected and divided us slowly dissipating. King exhaled and turned to go, but not back inside.

  “Wait.” I grabbed him “What’s going on?”

  “Just take care of her, Flip.”

  TWEETIE

  I was still scorching when Flip came back from his talk with King. He didn’t come to me but settled by the doors, eyes up close and personal. I think I’d been talking to Bacon, but whatever I’d been about to say vanished with Flip’s next move.

  Across the room, Flip licked his finger, slid his tongue over the knuckle that had just pressed into me.

  I sucked in a breath, suddenly desperate for air.

  Just then Pants suggested putting in a VHS, an old skate video from back before Flip was discovered.

  I hopped on that idea, Flip’s intensity scorching me from the inside out. “Let’s do that!” Romeo and Daniel looked less than enthused, and Flip mirrored them.

  “Come on,” I begged, so lost in the glittery, champagne bubbly feeling of nostalgia. I was desperate to see more of Patchwork House before me. I knew Flip and I needed to have a serious conversation, but every time he was near me I got lost in him.

  Romeo groaned, Daniel sighed. I knew that meant I’d won.

  The movie was about to start, so it was only mildly loud. I could actually hear myself think. It was warm, but the air outside had been so frigid my hands were red. I blew on them, wishing for King to keep them warm like always.

  In an instant Flip was there. He tugged them to his lips and blew, eyes never straying from mine.

  “Thanks…Nate.” I tested the name on my tongue, outside the bubble of firelight and flesh. His lips curled warmly, eyelids growing hooded.

  “Do you think you and King will ever be friends?” I asked. “I can’t imagine a
life where my brother and boyfriend don’t get along.”

  “Boyfriend?” A smile grew slow and content.

  I rolled my eyes to push past the way that smile made my gut squirrel. “He raised me. Even if he’s responsible, the accident is something that connects us, you know?”

  His lazy smile dropped. “What do you mean?”

  I hesitated. “You know what I mean.”

  “Say it.”

  “King killed my dad…” I felt really awkward. Why was he forcing me to repeat this? My focus drifted to Bacon asking for help while fiddling with the VHS. Flip’s grip tightened ever so slightly.

  “Why are you saying King killed your father?”

  I looked back at Flip. “You’re being really weird.” He didn’t press any more, but some thought made his eyes dark, jaw tight. The video started, so thankfully I had a distraction.

  Suddenly Flip’s grip tightened on my hands until it felt like he was squeezing the blood out.

  “Ow,” I said, trying to pull them back.

  “Let’s go.” The urgency in his voice had my brows caving.

  “I want to watch.”

  I followed everyone’s eyes to the small, black box TV. I didn’t register it at first. I couldn’t. It didn’t make sense.

  “What the fuck is this?” Daniel said.

  “I thought we destroyed it,” Flip gritted. He was close, but his voice was so, so far away. I was in a bubble, floating into space.

  It was me on the screen. As a little girl.

  “What wanker chose this?” Romeo asked. I tried to tear my hands from Flip to walk closer to the screen, but his grip was a vise. I recognized the hill, it was tattooed on my blood.

  Devil’s Hill.

  Was this the night King caused my father to crash? Then why was Flip the one with me?

  First rule of skateboarding: you fall.

  My heart thrummed uncontrollably as I watched Flip push me into the street. The camera panned shakily to me as whoever held it laughed.

  Flip!

  A car came tearing down the road—the old woodie wagon that I could still smell if I tried hard enough. Always a little bit like musty fabric and my dad’s too-pungent cologne.