He blew out a loud breath. “You keep apologizing, but here you are.”
I swiped angrily at my tears with my thumb, hating that my body was betraying me in a way I knew guys hated. The last thing I wanted him to think was that I was trying to manipulate him into anything. “I came to give blood today, I promise. I do it all the time. I care about people.”
“You care about people.” Another non question.
I nodded, risking a look up at his face. I’d seen slabs of marble with more expression.
“So what do you want with me?”
The question of the century. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly after a long moment.
He frowned. “You don’t know,” he repeated.
“No. I thought maybe I could...” I shook my head, because I really didn’t know. I wanted to do something, but what?
He snorted. “Right. Well I know. You want a front row seat to the Kearns family circus. Well I’ll tell you what, princess. Tickets are sold out—everyone else beat you to the show.”
As I blinked at him stupidly, he continued. “Though now that you know my name, you can Google all you want and find out every last detail about me and my past. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Some good gossip? A scary story? You’re just too chicken to ask me yourself.”
It’s not like I could deny it; he was totally onto me. I stared at him, knowing instinctively if I apologized again, he was going to go off the deep end.
“Better make some popcorn,” he said, ending with a humorless laugh as he turned away from me toward the door.
He grabbed onto the handle, but before he opened the door, he turned back toward me, took two long strides and got right in my face. He got so close, I had to tilt my head back to see him, my chin almost touching his big chest as he breathed. I hadn’t realized he was so big. His eyes narrowed to angry slits as I stood there, willing myself not to tremble. “Find out whatever you want; it’s not like I can stop you anyway. Find out everything, dig as deep as you can. But stay the hell out of my life. I don’t need a rich debutante with a perfect life using me to get her bad boy thrills. I’m not your toy, princess. You don’t want to play with me.”
And then, while I stood there, slack-jawed and mouth agape, trying to process what he was even saying, he left, slamming the door behind him so hard, the walls shook.
~ ♥ ~
After I ran out the back door of the blood donor clinic to avoid seeing or having to talk to Danny again, I headed over to the Rosewood bus, assuring the driver I was fine, but had just needed some air. She wouldn’t let me stand out in the cold and forced me onto the bus, putting down the window for me like I was eight and couldn’t get it on my own.
As I sat there, I mentally went over and over what Danny had said and knew he was right. I had been attracted to the whole bad boy thing, but now I realized how incredibly stupid I’d been to ever think that. He was a real person, with a real back story, not just a hot guy on a magazine page or in one of Celia’s romance novels.
And he was right; I didn’t want to ‘play’ with him. He wasn’t for me; I had plenty on my plate already without worrying about him.
No matter how much I couldn’t get him out of my head.
Determined not to think about him anymore, I pulled out my phone, but there were no messages. I sent a quick hi to Brooklyn but she didn’t answer me back and anyway, a few minutes later, the other Rosewood girls came out of the clinic, smiling and laughing as they got onto the bus. Kaylee and Chelly were at the back of the group, but their heads were close together as they talked on the way. They got on the bus and made a beeline right for me.
“You okay?” Chelly asked.
“Fine,” I said with a nod. “Just needed some air.”
“What did he say to you?” Kaylee asked.
I shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Nothing much. He’s still pissed about me calling the cops on him.”
I glanced at Chelly who suddenly looked nervous. No: guilty. “What did you say to him?”
She had the nerve to lie right to my face. “Nothing.”
I cocked my head. “What did you say, Seychelles?”
Not being the kind of person I would recommend for employment at the CIA, she cracked pretty much immediately. “Just that he shouldn’t be mad at you because you’re sweet and nice and are going to save the world someday.”
“Oh great. That should help,” I muttered.
“Anyway,” she said. “It’s not like it matters. I mean, you’re not dating the guy, no matter how hot he is. Hellooooo Hot Felon!” Then she let out a whoop of laughter until the bus driver gave her the evil eye in the giant rear-view mirror. Chelly rolled her eyes, but did a conversational one-eighty, asking Kaylee what she was wearing to the upcoming dance.
I leaned back against the seat, very happy to have something else to talk about.
To Google or Not To Google
No matter how much I’d ultimately hate myself for it, I had to Google him. Especially now that I had his last name and he expected me to. I mean, he’d practically told me to Google him, so if I was going to have his scorn anyway, I may as well earn it.
Deep down, I wanted to be strong and not do it, but I couldn’t. I had to know.
But his words ate at me. That he’d so quickly figured out I’d been intrigued because he seemed like a bad boy. Hadn’t I just told Brooklyn that I wanted someone messy? Someone who would give my mother a stroke? God, how stupid and naive I’d been. Though what do they say? “Be careful what you wish for.”
There was nothing I could imagine that was messier than murder. Prison time. Facial tattoos. He was the trifecta of bad boy. Wrong boy. But still, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
How nuts did that make me?
I typed his name into the search bar: Daniel Kearns. He didn’t seem like a Danny, but that’s what everyone called him. I wondered which he preferred, remembering that I’d called him Danny the one time I’d used his name. I wondered if he hated that, the familiarity. Or maybe he just hated me.
I swallowed against the lump in my throat and hit enter.
I wasn’t surprised when a whole page of news articles popped up, just the first of many. I knew this would be easy. At least, I knew finding the story would be, now that I had his name. Sifting through it for the truth wouldn’t, and as I saw the first headline I felt totally sleazy, like some unscrupulous paparazzo chasing down a child actor who couldn’t even defend himself.
Then I actually read the headlines, my eyes darting from one to the next as I scrolled down the screen. My heart stuttered in my chest.
Two Dead in Dunvale Family Tragedy
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Says Dunvale Police Chief of Double Homicide Crime Scene
Searching for Truth in Dunvale
Dunvale Teen Arrested for Double Murder
Teen Pleads Not Guilty in Murder of Parents
On and on it went.
“Oh my God,” I said out loud, the cursor hovering over the link to one of the news stories. I wanted to know. I needed to know, but I was terrified of the truth. I’d looked into that boy’s eyes today and I saw something: scars, old wounds, mountains of pain. Something made me feel compelled to help him, to ease the suffering I’d seen in those eyes. Even though the last thing he’d done was ask for any kind of help.
“You’re like one of those crazy freaks who marries death-row serial killers,” I told myself, trying to shake off the feeling that I needed to save him. “Maybe if you read the story, you won’t feel so sorry for him anymore.”
My heart was pounding like I’d just sprinted across campus, even though I’d been sitting in my dorm room for an hour, hesitating, knowing as soon as I knew, I couldn’t un-know.
I was a hair’s width away from clicking, but panicked at the last second. I took my hand away from the mouse and picked up my phone instead, silently calling myself a chicken. I had just opened a text message to Rob, thinking I could use a distracti
on, when my door flew open.
~ ♥ ~
I let out a squeak and whipped around, though I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Chelly standing there in a Rosewood t-shirt, red plaid boxer shorts and Uggs, her legs spread apart in a wide stance, framed by my doorway. All she needed was a cape and a big letter on her chest and she would look like a kickass superhero.
“Hey, Roomie!” she yelled. “Find out about your hot felon yet?”
I grinned at her. I loved Brooklyn, but this was going to be fun, too. “Not yet,” I said. “I’m afraid to look.”
She pulled a giant suitcase into the room and closed the door behind her before she looked up at me with a frown. “What do you mean?”
I scrunched up my face, feeling ridiculous. “I don’t know. I feel like...maybe it’s better if I don’t know. Rob said he wasn’t a danger and it was okay that he was on campus. So shouldn’t I trust that?”
Chelly came and sat down on what was about to be her bed. “Trust that for what? Are you hiring him to be your personal trainer or something?”
I snorted. “Uh, no.”
She fanned herself. “But you saw how cut he is, right? Those arms...”
“And his blue eyes...”
“Wait,” Chelly said, her face serious. “He had eyes?” then she winked at me and scootched back on the bed until she was against the wall, her long legs stretched out in front of her.
“I just...I don’t know. It seems so dirty digging up stuff about him on the internet,” I said.
She shrugged and glanced over at my computer screen. I half-expected her to go sit at my desk and click through the searches. “I get that,” she said in one of the rare moments when she wasn’t being a smartass. “I mean, the internet makes everyone’s dirty laundry public. We know that better than anyone, right?”
Chelly wasn’t exactly the daughter of A listers, but she was no stranger to the fame that came with money. We shared classes with celebrities and kids of celebrities, so we were a bit more sensitive to the whole privacy issue.
I glanced at the computer screen.
“But you still want to know,” she said, drawing my eyes back to her.
“Of course,” I said. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. You are, too.”
“You seem to care a whole lot more about it than I do. I mean, he’s super hot to look at and all, but...” she trailed off and shrugged.
I looked at the computer screen again for a long moment, thinking about what she’d said. Then, exasperated, I leaned forward and turned it off.
“Why don’t you just ask him?” she suggested, like asking him if he murdered his family and under what circumstances was the same as asking him how much he bench presses.
I gave her a look.
“I’m serious,” she said. “Don’t you think he’d rather he be the one to tell you the truth rather than have you piece it together from crap on the internet?”
He’d basically said as much. Kind of, when he’d called me a chicken. But no, I would never ask him. And anyway, “I’m never going to see him again,” I said. “So it’s a moot point. He totally hates my guts and was very clear that he wanted me to stay away from him. Next time I go to donate, I’m calling ahead to make sure he won’t be there.”
She looked at me for a long moment before she nodded and got off the bed. “Come on, help me unpack and then we can figure out which dress of yours I’m going to wear to the dance next Friday.”
I got up from my chair and stepped toward her bag. “The Stella McCartney, of course. I’m sorry, but your hips are too big for the Vuitton; it’s not cut for your body type.”
She frowned. “But the McCartney’s brand new; don’t you want to wear it?”
“I’m not going to the dance,” I said, holding my palm up in anticipation of her protests. “Before you argue with me, the Dave thing is weird and I’m sure Rob’s not going, so it would be obvious I have no one to dance with and I don’t want pity dances with Dave’s friends.”
She cringed, echoing my feelings about the whole thing. But I wasn’t done.
“And with Brooklyn gone, Dave’s arranging it all with the guys on their campus; I’m just not into it. Plus, I really haven’t done anything to prepare for exams and with those and the Santa Hop next week, I need to buckle down and get some actual schoolwork done.”
I still expected at least something of an effort from her, but she just shrugged and nodded. Maybe she was turning over a new leaf or didn’t want to argue with her new roommate or perhaps my argument was just that convincing.
Whatever it was, I was exhausted after all the drama earlier and donating blood and was very happy not to have to fight with her. And anyway, that Stella McCartney dress was practically made for her.
Pride Goeth Before a Dance
Brooklyn texted me back the next morning just as I was heading down to the laundry. I’d left Chelly sleeping in her bed and was happy for someone to talk to, even though Chelly and I had stayed up late chatting. I told Brooklyn about Chelly bunking with me and staying in her bed and she said she was fine with it, of course. Then she gave me a quick update about her dad but said she had to go.
Disappointed (though obviously glad her dad was doing better), I opened a new window and texted Rob, figuring a little harmless flirting in the time it took me to grab a coffee and head to my CSA couldn’t hurt.
Good morning, sunshine, I sent, realizing it might be really early for him.
I got an almost instant reply. Good morning yourself, Early Bird.
I wondered if he was still in bed. I was up before the early bird. My day starts at stupid o’clock.
Ah yes, off to the salt mines.
What about you?
Soon. So what’s new? It’s been a bit crazy.
What a loaded question that was. Not that I was going to tell him about Danny, although he might be proud to hear I hadn’t gone through with the search. Not much, I sent. I gave blood yesterday.
What a fine citizen you are.
Don’t forget it, I tapped out and slid the phone into my pocket as I arrived at the dining room where both hands were required to get myself a much-needed coffee. Knowing she would appreciate it, I poured one for Ida while I was at it. I put the paper cups into a tray then reached for a pastry, shoving it in my mouth, thinking as I did that the cruller the day before had started me on the road to a carb binge. Whatever. I was down a pint of blood and could probably afford a cherry-cheese Danish or two.
Before I left the dining room, I checked my phone again.
Never, Rob had sent back.
I was about to start my day and probably wouldn’t be able to talk to him, so I was suddenly feeling a bit braver than normal. I presume you’re not going to the dance on Friday.
Hells no, he sent back. Even if I wanted to.
I smiled, but before I could respond, he added, Though I’m sure it will be super fun.
Not likely.
I’m not going. Want to watch the rest of P&P?
There was a long pause. I glanced at the clock and cursed; if I didn’t hurry, I was going to be late. But then my cell sounded.
I don’t think I should.
My heart sank, but I quickly realized he wasn’t saying he couldn’t or that he was busy, just that he shouldn’t. Silly man, he should have known better. Because shouldn’t meant I could convince him.
You owe me, I texted. I have to go right now, but I won’t take no for an answer. Block Friday night off.
Before he could hit me back, I turned the sound off and shoved the phone in my pocket, fairly confident he would buckle. It’s not like he had anything else to do Friday night. I mean, he could go into town, but it’s not like there was much of a nightlife going on there, anyway.
But then, as I walked toward the laundry a pang of doubt settled into my gut, churning around with the Danish. Balancing the tray carefully, I pulled the phone back out and texted one-handed. I promise not to kiss-attack you. Unless you wnat
me to. It wasn’t until after I sent it that I noticed the typo, but knew he’d get the meaning. And hopefully think I was adorable and not an overly aggressive stalker-type.”
Movie: yes. Kiss-attack: better not. See you soon.
~ ♥ ~
The next two days passed in a blur of laundry, classes, studying, repeat.
Thanks to Chelly I was sleeping, so at least that part of my life had worked itself out. For now, though I didn’t let myself think too hard about what would happen come Christmas break. I’d hinted at Chelly that I didn’t have plans, but her parents were taking her skiing to Vale for the holiday and she insinuated that her parents would not welcome a guest. But I had enough to worry about before that, so I just put it out of my head and focused on my more immediate concerns. First was the dance. Well, the night of the dance, since I wasn’t going.
Once I got my friends ready (I was so right about that Stella McCartney dress for Chelly—she looked amazing) and off to the dance, assuring them for the thousandth time that I didn’t mind them going without me, I changed into my movie watching outfit. I hoped Rob would never figure out just how much thought went into my ‘just threw this on’ look, but I was leaving nothing up to chance.
The tank top showed a bit of cleavage, but the flannel shirt I was wearing over it would cover it. Most of the time. And the yoga pants, well, they made my butt and legs look good and were comfy, so they were just the thing.
I put on a little bit of makeup, just enough to enhance my eyes and give my lips a bit of gloss, though I knew whatever went on my lips wouldn’t stay on very long. My heart fluttered a bit at that thought, but I told myself not to get so excited. Rob had said no kissing, after all. Though he’d said that before and we still ended up making out.
I met him in the lounge, though this time he was there first seated on our couch with a big bowl of popcorn in his lap. “That had better be for both of us,” I said, more because I wanted the excuse to sit beside him than because I actually wanted popcorn.
“I guess,” he said as though he hadn’t meant for it to be so.
I sat next to him, close. Really close. “Hi,” I said softly, looking into his eyes, watching his pupils dilate as he looked back at me.
This Point Forward Page 11
