by Julie Cross
Chapter 12
Lenny London: Can I still get credit for wearing cute shoes if I’m carrying them?
30 minutes ago
Carl London: I have friends and I have benefits therefore I see no problem in mixing the two.
5 minutes ago
“Do I really look twenty-two?” I ask Lenny and Carl. “The guy didn’t have an ounce of skepticism on his face.”
“You look hot.” Carl’s dark-eyed gaze drifts up and down, taking in the formfitting, very short gold-sequined dress, tall black heels, and bright red lipstick Lenny dressed me in tonight. “Besides, he doesn’t give a fuck if you’re twenty-two as long as you provided him acceptable proof, his ass is covered.”
“Now hush about the age thing,” Lenny orders.
Walking into this club—music blaring, bodies smashed together, grown men buying girls drinks—I feel like a freshman at my first party with boys and beer. Wild high school parties are no longer an adventurous feat for me, but posing as Marie Conner with a homemade fake ID has left me a bit shell-shocked. Lenny and Carl even made me drink two shots of rum before leaving the house so I wouldn’t look like an uptight anxious seventeen-year-old and give myself away before getting in the door.
And now I’ve got an orange band around my wrist proving I’m old enough, not only to get in the door, but also to buy some real drinks. Not just that, but we went straight to the front of the line—the VIP entrance. The guys at the door know Carl and Lenny both, and of course they know First Base, so if they wanted to it wouldn’t be all that hard to uncover Lenny’s real age. Carl is actually twenty-one , so he doesn’t even need a fake ID to buy drinks here.
Lenny and I stand near the bar, scoping out the people on the dance floor. “You need to find a hot guy to flirt with,” she says. “Get over you know who.”
“You know who?” Carl comes up behind us and hands us each a beer.
“Her ex,” Lenny says right away. “From Arizona.”
“He’s gay.” I take a gulp of my beer and try not to make a face. “I hate beer.”
“Are we supposed to like it?” Lenny says, drinking from her own cup. “And remember, Annie, you know who is probably screwing one of those sorority chicks in his apartment right now. And he’s probably got a wild party going on, while he’s busy in the bedroom. I’ve overheard all kinds of stories about single players and their private parties. He’s just been handed at least a quarter of a million dollars. His personal life, his personal space, is beyond anything you could ever grasp or even want to be involved with.”
My heart sinks down to my stomach, but I force logic to dominate like Lenny has. She’s right. I want nothing to do with that star pro athlete life. I want Dad and his quiet ways and Grams and maybe a cute straight guy to make out with, but not fall in love with because that’s almost more scary than the wild parties at Brody’s bachelor pad.
The repetitive beat of the music is thumping inside my head and the pre-club alcohol I drank is taking effect, helping me keep my mind off being an awkward non-adult. People keep bumping into us and after downing my beer, I grab Lenny’s hand. “Let’s dance. Marie Conner loves to dance.”
Lenny checks out the room like the scholar she is, then hands me an Altoid from her purse and takes another one, popping it into her mouth. “Just in case Mr. Perfect sweeps us away for a hot make-out session on the couches in the back of the club. You know Haley Hunter from school? She lost her virginity on one of those couches.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Gross.”
“I know, right?” Lenny nods.
We push our way toward the center of the dance floor. Pink and blue lights swirl around us. It’s hard to see anything clearly and being this fake identity tonight allows me permission to let loose. There is something about high heels and a tight dress that gives you a certain level of confidence, like there’s power in feeling sexy. I hadn’t really anticipated that when I agreed to put on Lenny’s clothes. Of course, I’ve dressed cute for the ex-boyfriend before but never did it include a dress quite this short. Or shiny. After a good thirty minutes of dancing, I’m starting to sweat, and I pull my hair up off my neck. Lenny shoots me a glare and swats at my hand. “Don’t you dare mess up your hair! It looks amazing!”
Just to piss her off, I turn my head upside down and shake out the long blond curls she carefully fixed for me. When I stand upright again, she grins. “Sexy.”
Carl and his frat-boy friend, the same dude who’d drunkenly told me that I looked like his sister’s Barbie doll before upchucking into the London family garden at the last party, shove their way out to us on the dance floor and pass us a shot glass filled with mysterious blue-ish liquid. We both stare at it briefly before downing the drink.
It’s syrupy sweet, but I can feel the burn of alcohol trickling down my throat. Lenny passes me more Altoids mid-dance, and Carl’s friend runs off to discard our glasses. Just as I’m getting back into dancing with Lenny, I spot a guy near the bar who’s got at least three girls invading his personal space.
What the hell?
“Shit!” I pull Lenny closer and spin her around so she can see Brody, drinking his much more innocent bottle of water. “What’s he doing here?”
She turns back to face me. Her arms are blissfully lifted in the air, her hips moving side to side. She bumps a hip into mine to get me moving again. “Quit worrying. He’s not going to notice you and if he does, who cares?”
My heart slows back to normal. She’s right. I know too many of Brody’s secrets for him to go and rat me out to Dad.
Lenny turns around and reaches for the guy behind her. She pulls him by his tie, his eyes going wide, like he’s about to live out one his of fantasies. Maybe he will? I laugh and grab Carl’s friend. I can’t remember his name but he’s not a jerk wad like Carl, just really dumb, but I can’t really fault him for that. I pull the guy closer, and he flashes me a grin with his perfectly white frat-boy teeth. Despite being an idiot, he’s not a bad dance partner. He doesn’t lay a hand on me, only grinds against me on occasion, and he does have some sense of rhythm. My phone vibrates several times through the beaded bag dangling in my hand. I almost pull it out to look at it, but Carl coming up behind me and laying a hand on my ass distracts me.
He shifts my hair over to one shoulder and leans closer, shouting into my ear, “You want another drink?”
My body stiffens and just as I turn my head to look at him, a hand tightens around Carl’s wrist, yanking his fingers from my ass. My gaze travels upward, landing on Brody’s intense brown eyes.
Lenny bumps her hip into mine again and says, “Busted!”
Brody keeps his eyes locked on mine while lifting both hands and shoving Carl and frat-boy friend in the chest, forcing some distance between me and them. Brody leans in and says, “Walk out the back exit, turn right, and meet me at the end of the block in the next two minutes.”
I shake my head, but his serious expression stops me, and I remember my phone going off just seconds ago. Did he try to call? Did Dad call and then had to get ahold of Brody because I didn’t answer? Did something happen? I turn around and tell Lenny, “I’m leaving.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I step around her before she has a chance to get a word in. It takes a good ninety seconds to shove my way toward the exit. The outside air feels fresh and cool against my sweaty neck.
Brody is already pacing in circles at the end of the block.
He grabs my hand the second I reach him and stalks across the street, dragging me along. “Keep your head down,” he hisses.
“What—”
“You didn’t notice the paparazzi inside that club?” he whispers.
There are various people mingling around the downtown streets. My heart races, and I glance around completely panicked. “It’s not a big deal, right? Why would people want to take pictures of me?”
And why didn’t Lenny or Carl notice this? They’ve been dealing with being public profiles much longer than Brody
and I have.
“Keep your head down,” Brody repeats.
I drop my gaze to the sidewalk and let my hair fall forward, half covering my face. It’s not until another two blocks that I fully register the fact that I’m holding hands with Jason Brody. Except it’s more like I’m being dragged out of the carnival after trying to sneak onto a roller coaster I’m not tall enough to ride. I shake his hand from mine and my pace shifts to the heavy-footed stalk he’s already adopted.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“I’m taking you home.” He finally stops in front of a tall apartment building and points to the garage. This must be his building. Maybe he walks to that club every night and brings a different girl back to his place? And I don’t even get invited inside for a drink.
He takes me straight to his new black SUV with tinted windows. I slump into the passenger seat and slam the car door shut with more force than is needed. Once we’re both safely inside the vehicle, Brody exhales. “I didn’t want to talk outside in case anyone heard us, but seriously? What were you doing in there? How did you even get in?”
His gaze travels to the small beaded bag Lenny loaned me. He swipes it before I can stop him and quickly finds my ID. “Let me guess? Carl got this for you?”
I fold my arms across my chest, keeping silent.
“Twenty-two? Seriously? I’m surprised they fell for that. You can get in at nineteen, you know.” Brody starts laughing, his shoulders shaking. “I choked and spit water all over these two girls when I saw you in there.” He unfastens the buttons on the sleeves of his blue dress shirt, rolling them up to his elbows before turning his gaze on me again, his eyes sliding up and down, taking me in, his laughter picking up even more. “What did you do to yourself, Annie?”
The words and laughing sting. He might as well have slapped me across the face. Dancing in the club, I felt sexy, older, alive. He’s managed to suffocate all that in a matter of seconds. My eyes burn, but there’s no way in hell I’m shedding a tear right now. I lean back against the chair and turn my head to look out the window. “Are you taking me home or not?”
He’s still laughing to himself as he backs the car out, exits the garage, and hops onto the freeway. He tries to make conversation for the first couple minutes and then gives up after probably growing tired of my lack of eye contact and one-word answers.
When we get to my neighborhood, he parks his car half a block from my house, cuts the engine, and turns off the lights. Only a single streetlamp across the road illuminates the inside of his SUV.
“Look,” he says, his gaze on the dashboard. “I think you should come clean with your dad right now and tell him where you really went tonight.”
I turn to face him. “Why? Are you going to tell on me, Brody? Seriously?”
“I’m pretty sure your picture’s going to end up in the paper or on the internet. Don’t you think it’s better if he’s prepared and hears it from you first?” Brody finally looks at me and his serious expression fades, the corners of his mouth twitching, fighting a smile or more laughing at my expense.
Before I can get more pissed off at him, he leans in close, his mouth inching toward mine. I suck in a breath and then release it, disappointment washing over me as he reaches around, opening the glove compartment. “I can’t take you seriously with that red lipstick on.” He laughs again.
With a heavy sigh, I fall back against the seat, squeezing my eyes shut, turning my head away from him. “I left the club with you. I’m going to ’fess up to my dad. You’re getting your way, so you can stop treating me like a child playing dress up.”
“Annie—”
“I get it,” I interrupt. “I’m just a high school kid, and you’re a grown-up baseball player with money and crazy parties in your apartment and swimsuit models programmed in your phone. You don’t need a fake ID to get into the cool clubs. And you are like my dad and feel some obligation to make sure his daughter doesn’t screw up her life or his. It’s fine.”
Warm fingers land underneath my chin, and Brody gently steers my head, forcing me to look into his adorable brown eyes. He’s so close I can feel our breaths mingling in the same air. He smells really good, too, like Irish Spring soap and some kind of aftershave. I stay perfectly still while he holds my face with one hand.
Using a napkin he must have gotten from the glove compartment, he gently wipes the lipstick from my mouth. A small part of me wants to hold on to this last sliver of dignity and swat his hand away, but the rest of me won’t move a muscle. I’m lost in being this close to him, having his fingers on my face and touching my mouth with only a thin tissue between us.
Heat is slowly making its way toward my neck and face…and down lower. I’ve temporarily forgotten everything else that happened tonight.
“I’ve never treated you like a kid, Annie.” Brody takes one last swipe across my bottom lip and then balls the tissue up in his hand.
And then because he doesn’t drop his hand or move away immediately, and maybe because of the alcohol, I’m able to channel my alter ego, Marie Conner, again. Without giving him any warning, I close the gap between us and press my mouth against his.
Chapter 13
Heat and longing cloud my thoughts. Brody’s mouth is hot against mine and when my brain registers that he hasn’t pulled away, I reach out and slide my hands across his cheeks, over his neck. Finally just as I’m touching the bottom of his dark hair, preparing to comb my fingers through it for hours, his fingers press more firmly against my cheeks. And then his lips part.
I sigh against his mouth, but before either of us can deepen the kiss, somewhere far in the back of my mind, I register him pushing my face away from his.
Reality slams into me. I jerk back, practically hitting my head against the window.
“Shit.” Brody places his arms over the steering wheel then rests his forehead on them.
I blindly reach behind me, fumbling for the door handle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—actually, it was just this thing Lenny and I were doing tonight. You know, kissing someone else, getting over your ex?” Lies, lies, and more lies. Seems to be my theme for the night.
He lifts his head and takes my hand, not allowing me to jump out of the car. “Listen to me, Annie. You are amazing. You don’t need to make out with me or any guy like me to figure that out. Don’t sell out because you’re worried about not being someone’s type.”
How did he know?
Was he listening in on my conversation with Lenny at the track meet today? I know he wasn’t but damn, he nailed all my concerns spot-on. I swallow back the lump in my throat. Lenny’s right. I’m the kid sister, but now I can’t even be pissed at him anymore, not after what he just said and the gentle tone of his voice.
I grasp the door handle, open it, and mutter, “You’re right. Thanks for bringing me home.”
He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face before flinging his own door open. “Let me go in with you. I’ll help explain things to your dad. He’s probably going to find out I was there anyway. I’d rather come clean with him now, too.”
Sure. Anything to keep your relationship with my dad in perfect standing.
When I open the front door with my house key, Dad sits up from his spot on the couch. He’s sleepy-eyed, the TV playing a late-night infomercial with the volume turned nearly all the way down, his non-leg propped up on the recliner beside the couch.
His forehead wrinkles more and more as he takes in my appearance and the fact that I’m home after telling him I’d be gone all night. For a study session sleep over. Though to Lenny’s credit, she did make me study Spanish while she fixed my hair and makeup. She doesn’t kid around when it comes to her tutoring reputation.
“What happened?” Dad says right away followed by, “Are you all right?”
Guilt eats further into my stomach, forming an instant ulcer. Leave it to Dad to ask me if I’m okay after I’ve lied to him and potentially caused a family scandal. It’s like he knows the wor
st way to get to me.
“Lenny and I went to this club downtown.” I take in a deep breath and glance at Brody. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking just as guilty as I feel right now, which doesn’t make any sense. “It’s not exactly for high school kids…and…well…”
Brody scratches the back of his head, his gaze bouncing from me and then back to Dad. “I was there, too, but on my own, and I happened to see the girls. There were photographers around. I got Annie out of there as soon as I could, but I think there’ll probably be some mention of this.”
Dad’s jaw muscle is already flexing, his mouth a perfect thin line. “And how did you get into this grown-up club?”
Brody looks at me, his face weary. “It’s an eighteen and over kind of club.”
Dad just raises an eyebrow. We both know I am not eighteen.
My stomach ties in knots. I hear the words that he doesn’t say. I might as well come clean about the ID, too. I remove the Marie Conner license from the beaded purse and, with shaking hands, I hold it out for Dad to see. Brody’s eyes are glued to Dad’s non-leg as he reaches for it and straps it back into place, the shoe at the bottom standing out against his bare other foot. He raises himself off the couch and stands in front of me, swiping the ID from my hands.
He reads it quickly and then lifts his head again. His glare practically knocks the wind out of me. “Where did you get this?”
“Someone made it for me.” I’m not going to sell Carl and Lenny out even though Dad will probably be able to guess like Brody did.
Dad throws the ID onto the coffee table and then leans closer to me. “You’ve been drinking.”
I nod wearily, not meeting his gaze. He shifts his glare to Brody. “Please tell me you weren’t drinking, too, and then drove my daughter home?”
Brody holds his hands up, shaking his head. “No…no way, I wouldn’t—”
And just like that, he’s done interrogating his perfect star pitcher.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Annie?” he shouts, startling both me and Brody. “And what the hell are you wearing?”
