by Jolene Perry
Her ink is coming along nicely. It’s a contrast, the black ink and the red skin against what’s usually such a pale white. I never knew how sexy it would be to see a girl get tatted. Or maybe it’s just sexy to watch her. I’m not sure.
She’s been quiet for a minute, so I watch her, wondering if the pain is getting to her or what, but it’s not. She’s looking at me, too. No, into me, and I’m actually scared of the answers she’ll find. Nothing scares me. Not my asshole dad, not waking up in the hospital, but crazily this does.
“What?”
She bites her lip and then says, “So…I had a really bad night with my gramps once. Some hot, cocky guy who thinks he’s better than me on a snowmachine confused me by showing me he’s more than I thought when he helped. And then he kissed me…like the best damn kiss, but I pushed him away.”
I’m trying to figure out what she’s saying. Focusing on the fact that she thinks I’m more and hoping I really am. Suddenly, I don’t want to be the guy who downs a pill every few days.
She breathes.
I breathe.
“I shouldn’t have. Pushed him away, I mean. I wish I hadn’t.”
Heat runs the length of my body. Damn, I like this girl. Actually like her. And I’m totally wishing we weren’t in this tattoo parlor right now. I brush my finger against her stomach, watching goosebumps spread across her skin. “Don’t worry. You’ll get a chance to redeem yourself. He definitely plans on doing it again.”
…
I close the cabin door behind me. We just got home from the tattoo parlor, and I let her go inside while I ran over and gave Gary my check-in. She jumps a little and looks at me, her hand sliding over the bass drum. It usually pisses me off when people touch my drums, but this time, it doesn’t.
“Play something for me.” She gives me a smile. I normally kind of hate this—being on display when someone asks me to play. If it happens naturally, it’s different, but I like the idea of her seeing me in the zone. She’s incredible at everything she does, and drums are one of the only things I have. It’s what I’m good at, and yeah, I want to show off for her.
“Are you sure you can handle it? I don’t want you to be jealous because I’m so good. Plus, I know how hard it is for girls to resist a guy in a band.” A sharp stab of fear hits me. I really just fucked up by saying band. Please don’t let her catch that.
She pretends to gag. “Yeah, pot-smoking kids in a basement with a couple of their dad’s old guitars is a serious turn-on. Oh, no. I don’t know if I can restrain myself. Please, Bishop, take me now!”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Shrugging out of my jacket, I toss it on a table before sitting at the drums. Penny sits down on the couch across from me. The room is so small, I know it will be loud for her. Only a few feet separate us.
I close my eyes as I slide the sticks through my fingers. One, two, three, four, and then my sticks slam down. I go up and down the line, finding the beat and the rhythm I want. Over and over, I pound down on it. My heart matches the rhythm. My arms feel the burn, but I welcome it—always welcome this kind of sting because it’s what I crave. I don’t think. Never do when I play outside of that stadium. Just feel. My body automatically knows what to do.
Sweat drips into my closed eyes, but I keep going, because this is the one thing I have to offer her. When I finally open my eyes, hers are closed like she’s savoring the beat. My beat. It feels amazing. It makes me proud.
Playing right now feels better than it ever has, and part of me doesn’t ever want it to stop, but I do. “Wanna try?”
She opens her eyes. “Do you have to ask?”
God, she’s so fucking cool. I love that she’s always up for anything.
I get up so she can sit in my spot behind the drums. “Okay, just—” My words are cut off by the worst sound I’ve ever heard. “What are you doing? You’re abusing my shit.” I grab her arm. “People don’t realize this is an art. Let the expert show you how it’s done.”
We spend the next hour playing. Well, she tries to play, and I try to teach, but it’s not coming off so well. I get to touch her a lot, so that’s a plus. My gut hurts from laughing so hard, and I’m sure hers does, too. Finally, she throws the sticks on the floor. “I’m done. The drums suck, and you’re a sucky teacher.”
“Tell me you’re kidding. I’m Bis—” Bishop Riley. Drummer for Burn. Liar to the girl he likes. “You hungry? I’d offer you pizza or something, but then I’d have to deal with one of your admirers, and I’m not in the mood for that right now.” Hopefully, my wink shows her I’m kidding.
She gets up and falls to the couch, kicking her feet up on the table. “You don’t ever let anything go, do you?”
“Nope.” I sit down beside her, one of my drumsticks in hand.
We’re quiet for a few minutes. I keep looking over at her, wondering what she’s thinking.
“So… You told me about your dad earlier. I can tell you about mine, if you want.”
My insides turn to ice. I don’t know why, but I know this is big. Know she doesn’t like to talk about this, and I feel totally unworthy of knowing because I’m keeping so much shit from her.
But maybe this is a way to tell her. She’ll tell me something, and then I’ll tell her. She’ll understand, I think. Get why I didn’t tell her who I really am. “I want to know everything you want to tell me.” And I put my arm around her, playing with the strands of her hair. It feels even better than the drumstick in my other one.
Penny looks over at me, all steel strength, somehow filled with softness. “It’s not like a huge secret or anything. I just don’t like to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.” But I want her to. Want to know she wants to tell me.
“You know my one-beer rule? The reason I watch the guys when they party? Some jerk who was stoned out of his mind hit him while he was on his motorcycle when I was ten.”
Every. Single. Thing inside me explodes. Not the good kind, either. She tries to sound like it’s not a big deal, but I know it is. My insides are shredded apart. I start to shake again. Panic simmering beneath the surface. Don’t let her notice. Please don’t let her see I’m fucking cracking apart. “Yeah?”
She nods. “I guess he downed a handful of his pain scrip, chased them down with a few beers, and left me without a dad. Sucks. It’s why I don’t drink and why I’d kill the guys if they ever did anything heavier than that. Why I make them give me their keys at parties, and why I hate leaving early because I can’t be there to make sure they don’t do anything stupid.”
My mouth is so dry, it’s hard to speak. “I’m sorry.”
And I don’t know where it comes from, but I feel like it was me. It could have been me. Not thought or cared about anything except getting messed up and then did something stupid. The Mitch conversation takes on a whole new meaning. Her fear of being left is because of someone like me.
I think about waking up in the hospital. About the pills I’ve taken since I’ve been here. About the pills in my fucking bag right now, and for the first time, I feel like a pill-head. I’m a loser. An addict. I’m sitting here with my hand in her hair, knowing what happened to her dad when she doesn’t know about me. It makes me feel like a failure. Like I’m letting her down the way I let Mom down.
“You’re quiet. Did I totally just ruin the mood or something?”
I try and shake it off, but I’m torn in half. Not one thing I’ve ever done makes me deserve to be here with this girl, but I’ve never wanted to be anywhere more. “We need to put the cream on your tat. I forgot about that.” Getting up, I try to forget what she said. Try to take care of her so maybe I’ll deserve to be here a little, because I can’t stand the thought of not sharing this room with her right now.
I grab the tube and walk back over. Penny smiles, then leans back on the couch and lifts her shirt. When I sit on the coffee table in front of her, I don’t know if my hands are shaking because I feel guilty, be
cause I want something to take the edge off, or because I want her.
“You’re shaking,” she says when I pull off the bandage.
Yeah, it’s definitely partly because of her.
“I know,” is the only reply I can give her, and then I’m smearing the cream. My finger brushes her skin, higher and higher, just under her breast. So soft, so gentle because I don’t want to hurt her. You’re already hurting her, she just doesn’t know it yet.
“It looks amazing on you. You did awesome today. You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”
Instead of answering, she says, “I thought you were going to kiss me again, Bishop.”
I know it’s all kinds of wrong. I shouldn’t do this, but I’m so broken up inside, I can’t deny her. Not anything. I’m going to kiss her, and I’m going to start doing the right thing. I’m done with this pill thing. Done with it all. I kneel on the floor between her legs, pushing my hands through her hair and then I kiss her. Our tongues tangle together. Our lips mold to each other’s. And I could swear that with each touch, she melts the ice in my veins.
I want to tell her everything.
I never want to stop kissing her.
“You don’t even know who I am.” My whispered words are probably the most honest thing I’ve said since we met. “I’ve screwed up…so fucking much.” This is the first time it’s hit me exactly how much. But she quiets me with her mouth, and I let her. She leans down and lies on the couch, and I follow her. I kiss her collarbone, behind her ear, before going up to taste her lips again, knowing the whole time I failed. Nothing I could ever do would make me proud.
Please, don’t let me fuck this up.
Chapter Sixteen
PENNY
I dream about lying in Bishop’s arms. I dream about him playing drums with his shirt off. I dream about him kissing his way up my neck and how I can’t get close enough to him. And how he whispers in my ear not to worry and then starts taking off my panties, and I’m kissing, and we’re kissing, and I’m frantic, and some horrible ring won’t stop…
I sit up and forget for a moment where I am. Bishop rolls over, catches my eyes, and smiles. “We fell asleep.”
“Guess so.” Holy. Shit. Only some of that was a dream. We did kiss. A lot. And there was definitely some under-clothing touching because the guy’s sides are toned. And his back. And his abs. And his chest.
“Can you please get your phone?” He chuckles as he slides his hand down my arm.
My stomach hollows out. Crap. It’s my school alarm. I was here all night. Mom is going to freak out.
“I gotta go before Mom figures out I didn’t go home last night.” I grab my phone, and it takes me four tries to shut the thing up.
Bishop half-leaps out of bed, but the grogginess all over his face tells me he’s probably not much of a morning person. And he’s not wearing a shirt, which stops me for a second so I can watch him. All the feelings from my dream send a rush of heat through me, and I reach out to touch his side.
Bishop smiles. His hand covers mine, and he steps close, pulling me into his arms. “I’m glad you stayed. I slept so hard last night.” He says that like it’s not something he usually does.
I rest my cheek on his bare chest, wishing with everything in me that I didn’t have to go. But I totally do. “I gotta get out of here.”
He plants a kiss on my temple before slowly releasing me. Like he wants me here as much as I want to be here.
“Right. Your stuff.” He scans the small floor for anything that might be mine, but I’m sadly as dressed as I was when we climbed into bed together.
I pull up my shirt, remembering my tattoo. “How’s it look?”
He kneels on the floor, looking more awake than he has yet. “Hot.”
I laugh because it feels so good to have him say that. “I gotta run. State’s coming up, and if I don’t have a killer excuse, I have to be at school.”
He stands and runs a hand over my hair, sending waves through me. “I can’t wait to see you play again.”
I love that he wants to see me play. For guys who don’t play hockey, it’s usually a turn-off, or intimidation factor or something, and the guys on the team… Well, that obviously doesn’t work out so well.
I grab my coat, let Bishop crush me into his arms again to say goodbye, and step quietly out the door into the darkness.
I’m outside, the door is closing, and my cheeks already hurt from smiling. Then there’s movement at my house.
I freeze. I’m caught for sure. It’s too late to hide, but then I stop and stare. The silhouette outlined by the small porch light isn’t familiar. I tense, thinking some asshole’s trying to break into my house as I step off Bishop’s porch. Mom, in her bathrobe and slippers, appears, smiling up at some guy.
What the hell?
There’s some quiet murmurs, then he leans forward, and she kisses him. And then again. And then his arms are around her, and he’s kissing her like I was kissing Bishop last night.
I’m frozen and shaking. My stomach turns over.
His hand brushes back her hair.
With every gesture, my anger rises. Mom never even said she was dating! This is my dad’s parents’ house. And my dad’s bed. And my mom!
The man turns toward an unfamiliar car.
Ben?
I try to suck in a breath, but I don’t think it works, because I’m feeling dizzy, like I’m not getting enough air. Dad knew this guy! I know this guy! And she lied. She lied to me.
That’s it. I need out of here. I head for my truck. And then I realize Mom and Ben are actually my perfect escape from Bishop’s porch. All I have to do is get to my car. I step down onto the snow.
“Penny?” Mom calls with a shaky voice. “What are you doing?”
Anger races through me so suddenly I don’t think. “I’ll answer that when you answer me what the fuck you did last night? Or did I answer myself with the question?” Okay. Probably not the smartest move when even I know that maybe crashing at Bishop’s place wasn’t the best idea. And maybe dropping the f-bomb was also stupid, and that maybe it was too early in the conversation for a counter-attack when I should be walking up to her to explain.
The door flies open behind me with a wide-eyed Bishop. Sadly, wearing a shirt.
“Penny. Please. This isn’t…” Mom eyes Bishop, and her face turns from shock to anger.
We’re way past explanations in this moment. And anyway, I’m a lot closer to my truck than she is. It’s not like the cabins are parked directly under the house. And I’m parked next to Bishop’s.
“Penny! Staying the night over there is completely unacceptable!” she yells and looks between Bishop and me.
I can’t believe she thinks she’s better than me in this situation. Can’t believe she’s been lying to me. “Are we really going to go there right now?”
Ben’s gaze goes from me to Mom and back to me. He’s about to be pulled into a mess because both Mom and I go too far when we’re pissed. And we’re definitely both pissed.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Jones.” Bishop’s voice is all apology. “We were watching a movie and crashed. I didn’t mean—”
Mom holds up her hand. “I need to talk to my daughter.”
Guess nice isn’t going to work today. “Well I sure as hell don’t need to talk to you.” I run toward my truck.
“Penny!” Mom yells.
“Let her go,” Ben says. Like he has a say in anything. Only, I’m sort of hoping she takes his advice, even though I know she won’t.
“Mom. Seriously.” I turn to face her. “I never hid that I spent time with Bishop, something you’d know if you were ever here. And for some crazy reason, you feel the need to sneak around with a guy when you’re a grown-up! You didn’t even know I was gone last night you were so distracted. I can’t believe you would invite him here when you haven’t even told me about him! You’re sneaking around more than I am! You know how I hate being lied to.”
Mom starts my way, th
e anger sliding off her face, but with how every cell in my body is tensed, now is not the time for us to talk.
I make it to the driver’s side door and nearly cry. Emotions swirl around in my head. I blink a few times, like I’m not getting enough air and I’m about to pass out. Okay. Breathing. Right? Like Bishop did. I can try that. In. Out. In. Out. This time, my hands clutch the door handle. Why am I reacting this way?
Mom hasn’t been here.
I’ve been here.
I’ve missed parties.
I’ve had nothing but craziness with Mitch and Rebecca, and Bishop, and now it feels like she chose Ben over me, over Gramps… She’s left us alone for Ben. Left me. How could she think it wasn’t something she could tell me?
I needed Bishop’s help to get Gramps to bed, and Mom gets to be with a guy? And now she’s pissed that I’m doing the same thing. Only probably not exactly the same thing because Bishop and I didn’t have sex. I hold in a scream.
I try to pull in another breath when I remember this breathing shit doesn’t work. I slam my fist into the door panel as hard as I can, sending a satisfying shot of pain across my knuckles, up my arm and the sound rings almost like a gunshot.
“Penny!” Mom yells, nothing but anger and disapproval on her voice, but she’s in her slippers and stumbling through the uneven snow.
I can get out of here before she reaches me. Easy.
“Don’t Penny me! A little warning would’ve been nice!” I jerk open the truck door and slam it behind me.
“Penny! Wait!” Bishop runs for the passenger door and jumps in with an armload of crap just as Mom reaches my truck, and just before I put Bitty in reverse and haul ass out of the driveway.
