The Red Zone (A Big Play Novel Book 2)

by Jordan Ford

  Mum’s still annoyed with me that I chose to stay stateside for Christmas. She just doesn’t get it, and I’m not about to explain it to her. She thinks Eloise tried to kill herself in my bedroom because she was looking for a safe place to end her life. I chucked the note before anyone saw it. I’m the only one who knows the truth. Well, except for my closest friends, who made all the right assumptions and fired them at me like poison-tipped arrows.

  Their comments on social media were heinous, not to mention the cartoons Kylie and Stefan drew. A stick figure with Xs for eyes is such a simple thing, right?

  It’s not.

  Those pictures still torment me in my sleep.

  Slipping my phone into my back pocket, I pull on my coat, shaking off thoughts of a land far away and focusing on the things I can control…like spending the afternoon and evening with Mack.

  He kept me entertained with texts while I was away—the painful Christmas dinner with his blended family, the relief he feels at knowing he doesn’t have to suffer New Year’s Eve with Derek, as well. He invited me to a party, but the Fosters have already organized a thing and apparently their guests are all super excited to meet me, so I can’t really get out of it. Hence the reason I’m sneaking away to see Mack today. We arrived back late last night and everyone is still in their pajamas. I quietly mentioned to Mrs. Foster this morning that I’d love a little time to myself after the busy festive season, and she thinks I’m off for a walk around the lake this afternoon. Thankfully, she’s an introvert, so she totally understands where I was coming from.

  I practically skip down the stairs, my insides giddy and light as I walk to Mack’s house. He lives about four blocks away. I haven’t been to his place before. He sent me a screenshot map this morning and it’s pretty straightforward. Left out the driveway. Right at the end of the street. Another right at the McDonald’s intersection, and then it’s the second street on my left and the fourth street on my right.

  “Left, right, right, left, right,” I sing to myself as I pick up my pace.

  I’m desperate to see him.

  I know. It’s lame and pathetic, but I’ve missed him. I can’t wait to see him, touch him, breathe in his scent. I used to wonder when Hanson and I were going out if it was love, but it was nothing compared to whatever is going on inside of me right now. Is it too early to admit the L-word?

  Oh man, in my head—my soul—I’m totally there, and the thought of leaving Mack in three weeks makes my heart do this weird spasm and then drop into my stomach. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I just know that I need to cherish every second I have with him.

  I break into a run, pumping my arms and screaming around the corner. The golden arches appear on my right and I race past them. By the time I reach Mack’s street, I’m puffing like a dog, but I don’t stop until I’m standing at his mailbox and gazing up at a lush place that looks like it’s straight out of a home and garden magazine.

  My lips part as I walk up the path. The lawn is immaculate, the small shrubs and trees lining the edge of the house trimmed to perfection and surrounded by mulch. The entrance has these two large pillars leading up to a big archway. I run my fingers along the rock work, wondering how much the place is worth. Pausing outside the double doors, I study the frosted pattern in the glass—intricate vines twisting around each other to create a rectangular frame. I’m about to press the bell when the door swings open and Mack is standing before me, looking all kinds of gorgeous. His dark eyes drink me in, lighting at the corners as he wraps his arm around my waist and hauls me into the house.

  He lifts me off my feet and I wrap my legs around his waist, relishing his strength. It engulfs me, chasing away my afflictions. I press my smile against his lip, running my fingers into his thick locks as he twirls his tongue around mine.

  “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against my lips.

  “Me too.” I pull back to gaze at him, loving the expression on his face. Grazing my hand down his jaw, I dip my index finger into his chin dimple and smile.

  “Come on, I’ll show you my room.” He turns for the stairs, obviously having no intention of putting me down.

  The feminist in me tells me to wrestle out of his grasp, but come on, he feels so good. He’s carrying me up to his room like I weigh nothing more than a bouquet of roses. I don’t care what your views on gender equality are, you can’t beat this feeling.

  Resting my forearms on his shoulders, I play with the edges of his hair until we shuffle through his doorway. He lets me go with a little grunt, and I land on his bed with a bounce. His hand catches my arm before I topple onto the floor. Then he nestles down beside me and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

  “So, welcome to Room a la Mack.”

  I bob my head, scanning the minimally decorated space. The wallpaper is a deep navy with a pale blue trim. We’re sitting on his double bed. The duvet is pulled tight and wrinkle free, his pillows stacked neatly at the head. A white set of drawers sits against the wall next to a bay window, and the only clutter I see is a few picture frames on his dresser and a neat pile of paperwork on his desk.

  So the guy likes it tidy. Nice. I like that. I don’t know how people study with mess all around them.

  I give him an approving smile and stand from the bed, walking over to his desk and running my finger along the straight edge. My eyes catch a stack of glossy pamphlets tucked between two textbooks and I instinctively reach for them.

  Mack lets out a choking sound and lurches off the bed. “Make sure you put those back. Mom hasn’t spotted them yet.”

  I scan the first one then flip it over to look at the next and the next and the next. They’re brochures for colleges across the United States.

  I hold them up. “Why don’t you want your mum knowing?”

  Mack sighs, gently taking them off me and shoving them back into his rather useless hiding place. “She’s only interested in one college, and I applied for it months ago.”

  “Boise State University.”

  Mack clenches his jaw, sliding his hands into his pockets and staring down at the carpet. I watch his socked toes curl into the thick fabric.

  “Maybe you should tell her you don’t want to go.”

  “I can’t.” He huffs. “My future’s set. It has been for years. This was always the plan, even before Dad died… It just became that much more important after he did.”

  I shrug, sliding off my jacket and hanging it over the end of his chair. “Plans can change.”

  “Not these plans,” he mutters.

  He starts drawing patterns in the carpet with his big toe. His biceps flex beneath his T-shirt while a tendon in his neck pings tight. It’s like he’s trying to hold it all in, keep it together for the sake of his family.

  “I know you’re family has been through a lot, and it’s obvious how much you care about them, but Mack…” I wait until he looks up at me before continuing. “It’s your future. You should be able to make it whatever you want it to be.”

  His face crumples. “You don’t get it.”

  “I do.” I nod, stepping into his space and resting my hand on his taut arm. “But I’m telling you, the only person who has final say in your future is you. It’s got to be your choice. You’re the one who has to live it…and I want you to be happy.”

  A slow smile tugs at his mouth, pulling into a gorgeous grin as he grazes my cheek with the back of fingers. “You know, when you say shit like that, you’re in danger of making me fall in love with you.”

  I laugh, biting my lower lip and arching my eyebrow. “You’re already in love with me. I think it’s the kiwi accent that does it for ya. Or maybe it’s the fact I come from a country where real men play real sports—you know, warrior dances before the game and all that.” I wink.

  His jaw works to the side as he fights a snicker and pulls me against his chest. “Or maybe it’s those green eyes of yours…or the way your lips curve just here when you’re trying not to smile.” He presses his finger into t
he corner of my mouth, making my heart trip over itself. “Or it could be the shape of your…” His hand glides down my back, rounding over my butt.

  “Oy, watch it.” I slap his hand away and spin out of his grasp.

  He captures my wrist before I can fully get away, gently pulling me back to his side. “Or it could be the way you say ‘oy.’”

  Mack cuts off my laughter with his warm mouth. It nestles over mine, working like a magnet to close the gap between us. I press myself against his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck and delving into the sheer ecstasy that is his mouth. His lips are soft, melding to mine, his tongue firm and in command, coaxing me into a deeper kiss that sends tendrils of pleasure racing down my body.

  Shuffling us backwards, Mack leads me to the bed. The second his knees hit the edge, we flop onto it. In a fluid move that gives away Mack’s experience, he spins me onto my back. I’m hardly one to judge and quickly shove the thoughts from my mind. I don’t want to know which girls he’s had in here before. I don’t want to think about the guys in my past. It doesn’t matter.

  None of them exist in our future.

  I dig my fingers into his hair, wrapping my leg around his knee. His hand glides up my thigh, squeezing my hip before wriggling beneath my shirt.

  “Well, well, well, who have we got here?” A voice I don’t recognize shatters the moment.

  Mack jumps off me like he’s been electrocuted. I perch up on my elbows and take in the sharp-faced guy checking me out. He’s got one of those faces where his cheeks sink in a little, making his strong cheekbones and angular jawline even more severe. His dark eyes are small and gleaming, making the skin on the back of my legs crawl.

  “You ever heard of knocking, Dickman?”

  He smirks. “No, what is that?”

  “Get out.” Mack’s voice is low and gruff as he straightens his shirt.

  “I’m Derek.” He stares at me, making no attempt to hide the fact he’s checking out my boobs.

  I clear my throat and tip my head with a droll glare. “Hi, Derek.” I punch out the K, hoping it’s obvious that I’m seriously unimpressed. Mack’s told me all about this ball-bag.

  He crosses his arms, the glint in his eyes sparking bright. “What’s your name?”

  “None of your business,” Mack growls, stalking across the room and standing in front of him.

  “Ooo, a mystery girl. How enticing.” The way his eyes glitter makes me wonder if he’s on speed or something. No one’s eyes should be that glittery.

  I get the impression that Mack will have to manhandle him from the room if Derek doesn’t get the answers he’s looking for. I’m not looking to cause a fight, so I sigh and say, “The name’s Kaija.”

  “The accent’s cute.”

  “Get lost!” Mack gets in his face, pointing at the open door.

  “Alright, alright. Chill your kicks, big man.” Derek’s voice is dripping with scorn. I want to stand up and punch him one. The jealous little turd has nothing on Mack. His eyes swing back to me. His leering gaze makes me want to take a bath. “It’s nice to meet you, Kaija.”

  “I wish I could say the same.” I give him a polite smile while Mack snickers.

  Derek’s head jolts back, his eyebrows rising. “Wow, you guys make the perfect couple. Assbutts unite.”

  Mack’s shoulders tense, his fingers curling into fists. I can sense him getting ready to grab Derek by the shirt and haul him out of the room. I’m inclined to let him, but a much sweeter voice arrives in the doorway, forcing Mack to take a step back.

  “What are you doing here?” Layla frowns up at Derek, her disdain obvious.

  “Hey, sis.” He grins.

  “I’m not your sister.” She brushes past him but stops short when she sees me lying on her brother’s bed. I try to smile at her, but can tell it’s the wrong move. Her wide eyes narrow into fine slits, her bracelets clinking as she crosses her skinny arms. “What the hell are you doing on Mack’s bed?”

  Derek chortles. “Do you really need to ask?”

  “Shut up!” Mack thunders.

  “Are you kidding me?” Layla’s dark brows dip together as she gives her brother an incredulous glare.

  “Layla!” I can’t see Mack’s face, but I assume he’s scowling. He sounds like he is.

  After a short beat, she goes all innocent, her eyes widening.

  “What?” She shrugs and puts on a pity me voice. “You said you were going to drive me to the mall tonight.”

  “Ask one of your friends to take you. Or better yet, get your driver’s license!”

  Layla’s baleful glare tells me that’s an ongoing argument. She clears her throat and sticks her chin in the air.

  “Mom grounded me after my last detention. If you go with me, I’ll get away with it.”

  “I’m not taking you to the mall,” Mack snaps.

  Layla gives him a sulky frown before glancing down at her powder-blue nail polish. “Well, what am I going to do tonight?” Her tone has a mocking lilt to it. “I know! I’ll text Roxy.” She pulls out her phone. “I’m sure she can give me some ideas. And you know she’ll be so interested to find out Kaija’s here. She really wants to be friends.” Her sticky sweet voice drips with insincerity, her threat so lightly veiled it’s actually pathetic. That little cow.

  Mack’s neck stiffens, his biceps flexing as he makes two fists.

  Layla starts tapping her phone screen.

  It doesn’t take more than ten seconds for Mack to lurch forward and clamp his hand around Layla’s tiny fingers. “You know you can really be a little tart-fart.”

  She bites her lips against a grin and I get the distinct feeling he’s called her that before.

  Spinning around, he gives me an apologetic smile. His eyes flash with that same old question: Is it time to stop hiding our relationship?

  I shake my head, about to say how much I love shopping at the mall, but then I spot Layla’s face. She so does not want me tagging along. Her dark eyes flash with a look I’ve seen a hundred times before, and I don’t trust her not to do something to seriously screw up what Mack and I have going. I’m the girl who’s making her brother act differently. He’s dating a girl who doesn’t fit the mold, and she doesn’t like it.

  I can see quite clearly that Miss Layla won’t just step aside and take it if Mack doesn’t play the way she wants him to. He’s told me a little about her background, how much her father’s death affected her. But in this moment, I can’t help wondering if Mack’s just a big old softy and Layla’s playing him like a freaking violin.

  Although I’m inclined to call her a bitch and tell her she can’t manipulate us this way, I’m also not stupid. Mack and I are on limited time, and I don’t want our last three weeks to be ruined by a high school bitch-fest. If she brings her girls in on the action, we’re totally screwed.

  “You know what, um…” I run my tongue over my top teeth. “I actually have to get going.”

  Mack’s eyebrows dip. “No, you don’t.”

  “The Fosters are expecting me for dinner.” I try to convey what I’m thinking with a look, but Derek opens his stupid mouth and cuts me off.

  “I’ll walk you home.”

  Mack spins, moving to the side to create a solid barrier between me and his stepbrother. Derek snickers and tries to move over so he can eye me up again, but Mack blocks his view.

  “Feeling a little territorial, I see. Are you gonna go piss on her now, so we all know she’s yours?”

  Mack snarls—like, seriously, he sounds like a wolf ready to rip Derek’s vocal chords out. Jumping off the bed, I hurry towards him, running my hand down his arm and pressing my cheek against his shoulder.

  “Thanks for the offer, Dick…sorry, Derek, but Mack and Layla can drop me home on their way out.” I look to Layla, who’s fighting a grin. I think she liked my ‘dick’ faux pas. “If that’s okay with you?”

  “Sure.” She nods, gifting me a smile that could be genuine—it’s hard to tell.
<
br />   I grin back at her, then squeeze Mack’s hand, hoping to wipe the look of dark disappointment off his face.

  “I’m just going to go change.” Layla spins out of the room, Derek following in her wake.

  As soon as we’re alone, Mack turns to me, opening his mouth with what I’m sure will be a heated protest. I press my finger over his lips. “You didn’t see her face behind your back. I’m just playing it safe.”

  Mack frowns. “We shouldn’t have to play it safe.”

  “I know these girls. I used to be one of them. Trust me, if you value what we’ve got going here…” I tip my head with a pleading look.

  His shoulders droop with a heavy sigh, so I wrap my arms around him and touch my lips against his ear, whispering an idea I had when I was driving back from Oregon yesterday. I feel his cheeks rise with a grin and his arms tighten around my waist.

  “I’ll be there,” he murmurs, then kisses the crook of my neck.

  #25:

  A New Year’s Bubble

  Mack

  I drive, taking the longest route possible back to the Fosters’ place. Layla notices and starts huffing in the back seat. I ignore her and focus on chatting with my girl. I pull up to the curb a couple of houses down from Roxy’s place, making sure no one’s watching when I kiss Kaija goodbye. When she opens her door, the interior light comes on and I flash her a look filled with heat and yearning.

  She smiles and mouths, “See you later.” Her wink is sexy as hell.

  She shuts the door and starts running for the Fosters’ place, cutting the corner of the Carmichaels’ lawn. Her long hair swishes from side to side and I can’t wait to run my fingers through it again.

  “Finally,” Layla mutters, hopping over the parking brake and thumping into the passenger seat.

  I accelerate forward, driving slowly past the Fosters’ to make sure Kaija got inside safely. The door is just closing as we pass, so I press the gas, picking up speed.