SLOW BURN

by Christie, Nicole

  I wince, but gaze at him steadily. “It wasn’t an accident. But this is the first time anytime like this has happened between us. I’ve never had sex with Dean, I promise.”

  I can feel Dean tense beside me, but I’m too focused on Johnny right now. I have to fix this somehow! It’s all my fault. I can feel Johnny’s temper shooting into the danger zone, the air around him practically pulsates.

  “So if it wasn’t Dean, who was it then, Teeny?” he says with an ugly smirk. “Another one of my friends? Do you have a list, or are you just randomly going down the line?”

  I can’t help the little gasp that escapes me. Oh, my god! That’s almost exactly what I said about myself! And it’s totally true. I hang my head in shame.

  “Leave her alone,” Dean interjects angrily. “It’s not like that.”

  Johnny suddenly gets in his face, neck muscles corded. “What’s it like then, brother?” He snorts derisively. “You wanna tell me what the fuck, huh? I trusted you, man. You promised you wouldn’t go after her.”

  What?

  Dean’s eyes flash, his face inches from Johnny’s. “And you promised you’d never hurt her. Guess we’re both fucking liars.”

  And just like that, Johnny’s temper snaps like a rubber band. I find myself being moved to the side, and then he’s swinging on Dean.

  I shriek like a little girl when his fist makes contact with Dean’s face. Dean takes the first couple of hits without defending himself—but when Johnny keeps coming at him, he switches to evasive mode, blocking the punches being thrown at him.

  I stand there uselessly, hands clamped over my mouth. Thankfully, Dean seems to be keeping his cool. That is, until Johnny growls something in his ear. Dean stiffens noticeably, his face darkening with rage. Uh-oh.

  Now Dean is fighting back, and all hell breaks loose. I’ve seen lots of fights between guys—mostly they wrestle around, their fists flailing wildly. That’s not what’s going down now. These two are using fists, elbows, knees—and throwing each other into stuff: the walls, the desk, a lamp—oh, no, not the aquarium! Oh…phew!

  “Stop it!” I scream, loud as I can, dancing anxiously around them. It’s not so much a fight as it is a tornado of destruction. “Please stop!”

  Oh, god, Dean just tackled Johnny into the hallway. They are seriously trying to kill each other. What do I do?! Shit!

  I run back into Dean’s room and grab a cup from the bathroom. I fill it with cold water, then run back out, and throw it at them, hoping to shock them out of fighting. There is absolutely no effect. Johnny throws an elbow in Dean’s ribs while shaking the water out of his eyes. I drink what’s left in the cup.

  Jelena comes running up the stairs, probably alerted by the crashing and thudding noises. Her eyes bug out when they land on Johnny and Dean kicking the shit out of each other. “What happened?!” she cries, standing at the top of the landing, and wringing her hands anxiously.

  “Do you have a fire extinguisher, or something I can spray at them?” I ask her hopefully.

  She shakes her head. “I’m calling the cops!”

  “No, don’t!”

  But she’s already scurrying down the stairs. No! I don’t want either of them to get in trouble for this—it could screw up their football scholarships if they get arrested. I have to do something.

  Not letting myself think about it, I lunge in front of Johnny, just as Dean’s getting ready to land a punch. My eyes are screwed tightly shut, my entire body braced for what is sure to be an incredibly painful blow.

  It never comes. I open one eye. Dean’s huge fist is about an inch from my nose. He stares at me, horrified at what almost happened.

  “Stop,” I whisper, my expression pleading. “Please.”

  Dean’s expression changes. His eyes suddenly go blank, and he lowers his arm. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Oh, fuck this,” Johnny mutters from behind me.

  He gently pushes past me, then deliberately rams his shoulder into Dean as he walks by him. He stalks down the stairs, disappearing from view.

  Dean and I look at each other wordlessly. I quickly appraise him for damages. One side of his jaw is red and starting to swell up, and there is a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. The cut below his left eye looks nasty and painful. Blood is smeared on his chest.

  “Are you okay?” I ask quietly, reaching a hand out to him—then letting it fall away.

  The walls are back up. Dean’s got his blank cop face back on. “I’m fine,” he replies tonelessly.

  I nod once. I can’t help but throw an anxious glance at the stairs. God, I hope Johnny doesn’t do anything stupid. Again.

  “Go after him.”

  I turn to Dean in surprise. “But…”

  He stares at a point above my head. “I know you want to. It’s okay.”

  “Dean. What about you, and—?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Dean turns, and walks back into his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him.

  I stand there indecisively. Then I decide to follow my instincts, and I barrel down the stairs, praying I’m not too late.

  I catch up to Johnny just as he’s about to get in his truck. I skid toward him, and he glances over his shoulder at me. I wince at the sight of his battered face, illuminated by the bright fluorescent garage lights. One whole side of his face is puffy, and his bottom lip is split.

  “Just save it, Teeny,” Johnny says tiredly. “I’m not talking about this right now.”

  I bite my lip, forcing myself not to grab his arm and make him look at me. “It’s not Dean’s fault. I was the one who came over here to talk to him,” I state emphatically. “I started this.”

  He closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against the driver’s side window. “Do you like him?”

  I hesitate for a long moment. “Yes,” I say finally. “I honestly didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you…”

  “I know.” Johnny lifts his head, and looks at me. The pain in his eyes brings tears to my own. “The really fucked up thing is that I deserve this.”

  I shake my head vigorously, reaching out to touch his arm. “No, you don’t. I—”

  “Yeah, I do,” he interrupts, pulling back from me. “More than you know. Look, I gotta get out of here.”

  Johnny moves stiffly, sliding behind the wheel, and carefully shutting the truck door. He glances briefly at me before starting the engine. “Careful driving back home.”

  I back away, watching him reverse out of the driveway. When he gets to the end, he swerves the Dodge around, and punches the gas. He peels out with a screeching of tires, and I’m left staring at his tail lights.

  I stand there for a long time. Then there’s nothing left for me to do, but to get in my car and very slowly drive back home. I’m crying the whole time, which cuts my visibility to practically nothing. It’s a miracle I don’t get into a car accident.

  Guess I’m just a lucky bitch.

  ******

  Chapter 40

  Johnny is absent from school for the next couple of days. I ask Nick and Mack, but they haven’t seen or heard from him in a while. I’m afraid to ask Dean if Johnny’s been home. The bruises on Dean’s face provide a stark contrast to the perfect beauty, but no one dares ask him what happened. We don’t talk, and I can’t tell if I’m avoiding him, or it’s the other way around. Part of me thinks it’s best that we stay away from each other for now—most of me misses him desperately, and constantly replays the endless kiss we shared. I can’t stop thinking about it, no matter how much I try not to. And I want to tell him…how much it meant to me, how amazing, scary, and confusing it was.

  But I’m such a coward.

  I need to talk to Heather about this. She would know what to do—or she’d at least take me to Boppy’s so I could drown my sorrows in ice cream. I would ask that poisonous bitch, Sloane, about Heather, but she hasn’t been in school, either. I’ve heard rumors that her parents stu
ck her in rehab. I don’t care enough to confirm with the people who would actually know. Damn it, Heather. See what happens when you’re not around to knock some sense into me?

  I dream I’m being chased by a faceless giant, and I’m trying to find my way back home, but I’m completely lost. Just as the monster reaches for me with a huge clawed hand, I jolt awake, limbs flailing wildly.

  I sit up abruptly, adrenaline still pumping. It takes a while for me to realize that my phone is ringing. My eyes automatically go to the clock, and when I see it’s about two in the morning, I snatch my phone off the table and immediately check the display. A phone call at two in the morning is never good news.

  “Mom?” I answer fearfully, my throat dry as sand. “What’s wrong?!”

  There’s a short pause. “Juliet, they just brought Johnny in. He’s been in a car accident.”

  She says something else, but the only words register are “Johnny” and “car accident.” I’m out of bed and getting dressed in record time. I have to get to the hospital right now.

  Oh, god, Johnny.

  God, please let him be okay! I make the harrowing drive to the hospital in twenty minutes. I text my mom from the emergency room triage area, hoping she still has her personal cell on her. She texts me back a few minutes later, telling me she’ll meet me there.

  I pace back and forth nervously until my my mom finally appears, looking exhausted. She immediately holds up a hand when I rush up to her.

  “The only thing I can tell is he’s conscious, and his injuries don’t appear to be life-threatening,” she says quickly.

  My entire body sighs in relief. “Thank god! Did you see him? Is he talking? What happened?”

  I fire questions at her one after the other. Mom grimaces at the verbal assault, and shakes her head, pressing her fingers to her temples. “He crashed his motorcycle into a tree, and he was drunk. That’s about all I know.”

  “He was drunk?” I slump backwards, swallowing over a huge lump in my throat. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes. He’s very lucky he wasn’t killed—or that he didn’t hurt anyone else.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not still dating this boy, are you?”

  I shake my head mutely. What the hell, Johnny? “Can I see him?”

  Mom stuffs her hands in the pockets of her patterned scrubs top, and tries to stifle a yawn. “Not until after his parents get here. They’re on their way now, I heard. Why don’t you go home? I’ve got a strange schedule today—I’m going to sleep here for a few hours, then I’ll do a four hour shift. I’ll call you to let you know what I hear.”

  “I’m staying.” I sink down into plastic waiting room chair.

  She sighs at my stubbornness but doesn’t demand I go home, so I take it as a good sign. “Well, I’m dead on my feet. I’m going to get some sleep. Call me if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Get some rest.”

  When she’s gone, I take my phone out again, studying my list of contacts. My finger hovers over Dean’s name. He must know about Johnny’s accident. Is he on his way, along with his parents? I debate texting him, but I just can’t make my finger touch his name on the screen.

  I text Heather instead. She immediately texts me back, asking me if I need her to come to the hospital. Her offer feels like a warm blanket settling around my shoulders. I immediately feel better, and reply that I’ll be fine, and I’ll keep her updated. I almost smile when I get her answering message that she’ll be praying for him, accompanied by hands clasped together and a little heart.

  I try to call Johnny, on the off chance that he’ll answer his phone. It goes straight to voice mail, and I hang up before leaving a message. I think about texting the guys to let them know about the accident, but I hesitate. Will he want everyone knowing, especially considering the circumstances? I don’t know. Better to wait until I find out more information. Maybe Dean will let them know.

  I can’t sit still any longer. I roam the hospital restlessly. I know where the cafeteria is, so I head there just for somewhere to go. I see Bob, the mumbling doctor who examined me when I was in here for the smoke bomb incident. He walks past me without any signs of recognition. Oh, well. I wish the gift shop was open so I could look for something for Johnny—like one of those Mylar balloon that says, “It’s A Boy!” He would think it’s funny.

  When I’m making my third pass through the lobby, I spot a woman whom I’m pretty sure is Johnny’s mother, based on the few pictures I’ve seen of her. She’s tall and blonde, with huge eyes, as blue as her son’s. She’s dressed in black slacks and a sweater, talking to someone at the information and registration desk. Her expression is mostly calm, so I assume she didn’t just arrive. There’s a dark-haired man standing a couple of feet away from her, glaring down at his phone—as shockingly handsome as a movie star. He looks too much like Dean to be anyone other than his father.

  I scan the area for Dean, but I don’t see him. Is he here? Johnny’s mother is smiling and chatting with the woman at the desk. I take this as a good sign. How is he??

  Gathering up my courage, I walk straight up to her. I wait until she’s finished her conversation with the other woman before I speak.

  “Um, excuse, Mrs. Par—um—Youngblood? Hi, I’m a friend of Johnny’s. I was just wondering how he is? Is he okay?”

  Up close, I notice her red puffy eyes, and the lines of tension around her mouth. She’d definitely been crying. She manages a warm smile, even though I’ve startled her with my sudden introduction.

  “Hello. And you are…?”

  “Juliet,” I say, flushing in embarrassment.

  Something in her eyes change, and she looks at me more appraisingly. Oh, no! What has she heard about me?!

  “Well, Juliet, it’s nice to finally meet you—though I wish it weren’t under these circumstances. Let’s go have a seat over there, and I’ll tell you about Johnny.”

  She gestures to a nearby bench, and I nervously walk alongside her. She doesn’t say anything to Dean’s father, though she glances over at him briefly. He doesn’t acknowledge her, all his attention focused on his phone. If I were her, I would be wondering what kind of business he’s got so early in the morning. I mean, I don’t want to make snap judgments, but he seems like a three-piece suit asshole.

  “Johnny’s going to be okay,” Mrs. Parker—Youngblood—tells me with a big relieved smile. “He’s got a concussion, and some issues with his left knee—but apart from that, he’s fine. Thank god—it could have been so much worse!”

  I shudder in response. “Yes,” I say faintly.

  She looks down at her hands, her face darkening. “He was drunk. I don’t know what’s been going on with him, lately! He hardly comes home anymore, and he doesn’t talk to me. Not that I’ve been around much…my husband and I have been traveling a lot. I was hoping…has he mentioned anything to you? I know something’s bothering him. I was wondering…I think it might have something to do with his father.”

  It’s my fault!

  I swallow my guilt down past the lump in my throat. I can’t meet her eyes, and all I can do is give a tiny shrug. How much does she know about our sordid little love triangle? I guess nothing at all, since she’s not slapping me right now.

  “Can I see him?” I ask tentatively, trying to ignore her obvious disappointment that I’m not sharing any insights with her.

  But she’s already shaking her head. “Right now, he’s in a lot of pain, and pretty out of it. Why don’t you go home, and give it a few hours? I can have Johnny give you a call when he’s up to having visitors.”

  “Um…okay. Thanks.” I spring to my feet because it looks like she’s about to start asking me more questions. I start hurrying away, throwing a “It was nice to meet you!” over my shoulder. I make sure to give Dean’s father a wide berth. Not that he even looks up from his phone.

  I know I’m being unforgivably rude to the poor woman, but I just can’t handle an inquisition right now. What am I gonna say? Yes, Johnny and I
were together—until he cheated on me with an ex-girlfriend and a washing machine. Then he tried to get me back, I had drunken sex with his best friend, he had sex with everyone else—and then, for the big finale, I kissed his stepbrother, and got caught red…lipped. You’d think this kind of drama happens only on trashy TV shows. It’s not nearly as fun in real life.

  I don’t go home. I hang around outside the hospital, sitting on a brick planter outside the lobby, and just staring off into space for a while. I’m half-hoping, half-dreading that I’ll run into Dean here. I’m positive that he’s around somewhere. I wish I had the nerve to ask Johnny’s mother if he came.

  Damn it, how could Johnny have been so stupid?! He could have been killed—what the hell was he thinking?! I’m just so pissed at him…really, really pissed. And what kind of issues does he have with his knee? Is it going to affect his ability to play football? Are any of the colleges still going to want him after this?

  “What did you do, Johnny?” I mutter out loud, dropping my head into my hands.

  My mom texts me, and is irritated to discover I’m still at the hospital. She convinces me to meet her for breakfast before her shift starts, so I head to the cafeteria. I suddenly realize I’m starving, and the food’s not bad. When I almost fall asleep in my French toast sticks, Mom orders me to go home and get some rest. After getting a look at myself in the reflection in my phone, I decide to do what I’m told. At least long enough for me to get a shower because, damn.

  I call Dad to let him know I’m not coming over, and he assures me that I’ll be missed by him and Cherise. Eh. I ask him about Michelle, and his voice grows concerned. I promise to call her tonight to see how she’s doing. After I hang up with him, I jump into the shower, where I finally give in to the tears that I’ve been holding back since finding out about Johnny.

  I feel better when I come out. When I check my phone, I’m overjoyed to find a text from him. He wants me to see me! I immediately text him back, letting him know I’m on my way. He’s okay, and he wants to see me! Relief floods through me like a warm tide.