The Start of a Mysterious Mystery (Honeyton Alexis) (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 2)

by Jessica Sorensen

  He sets the phone down, slants forward, and rests his arms on his legs. “Have you or have you not brought drama into your life by liking her? Because, from what I’ve seen, you have.”

  I grind my teeth from side to side, knowing he might be right. But my life was already filled with drama anyway. Besides, I don’t mind with her. I like helping Lex.

  “No, I haven’t.” It’s a total lie, something that I prove as I turn to Ellis and say, “Off the subject, but I need your help with something.”

  He points at himself. “You need help from me?”

  I nod, leaning forward. “Or, well, I need help with something that has to do with Alexis.”

  “See? Drama,” Holden interrupts. Then he gets up and wanders into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.

  I grasp on to the chance to tell Ellis what I need without Holden and his drama commentary.

  “She’s been getting these texts from an unknown caller,” I explain. “They’re borderline blackmail, and I—she and I—need to find out who’s sending them before they follow through with their threats.”

  “So, you want me to try to trace the number?” Ellis asks, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

  I nod. “Yeah. I’m not sure how difficult that is, but I’m hoping it’s possible.”

  “It can be, but it all depends on if they’re just using an unlisted number or a burner phone.” He collects the computer from the coffee table. It’s one of the very few expensive things in this house.

  Ellis is really into electronics and sometimes gets paid to hack into records and certain stuff like that, which is why he invested money in a computer.

  “So, is it not doable to trace a burner phone?” I ask worriedly.

  He shakes his head. “No, but it takes time.” He boots up his phone. “Does your girl have her phone on her?”

  I nod, knowing well that Lex would kick my ass for not correcting him about the “my girl” comment. And it’s not like I think Lex belongs to me but correcting him would lead to a ton of questions, most of them from Holden who’s returned to the room with four beers in his hands.

  He gives one to Ellis then hands two to me.

  I take them from him, my brows furrowing. “Thanks. But, why two?”

  He shrugs, sinking down on the sofa beside Harlow. “One’s for your girl.”

  Again, I don’t correct the “my girl” comment. “Thanks.”

  He shrugs, twisting the cap off his beer. “Whatever. It’s just a beer.”

  Still, Holden’s not the kind of guy who just hands out beers. He’s a strict BYOB kind of guy. I wonder why he’s doing it. If it’s because I live here now and am kind of working for him?

  Dealing drugs.

  I’m a dealer.

  I still can’t wrap my head around that.

  And I’m kind of glad. Because the moment I do is the moment I’m accepting this new fate of mine. Not that my fate was any better before.

  “Can you get her phone from her?” Ellis interrupts my thoughts as he clicks a few keys on the keyboard. “I need to take a look at it.”

  Nodding, I get up and make my way back to the room where I left Lex.

  That shakiness I felt when I bailed out on her returns the moment I step into the room. And that shakiness amplifies as I take her in.

  She’s lying on the air mattress, staring up at the ceiling, her wavy hair spread out around her head. The hem of her shirt has ridden up a little, and I catch a glimpse of her bare stomach. My mind starts to wander, images of me kissing her waist, letting my lips move upward …

  As if sensing me standing there and gawking at her, she turns her head toward me, and our eyes lock.

  “You came back,” she tries to joke, but her voice sounds flat.

  I dig out that façade of humor, knowing I need to be that guy right now. “Of course I came back, silly girl.” I walk over and sit down on the edge of the air mattress beside her. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  She props up on her elbows. “Um, because you ran out of here like I have cooties or something.”

  “Nah, that wasn’t what that was about.”

  “Then, what was it about?”

  I dither, deciding what to tell her. I mean, I hate lying to her but, on the other hand, there’s no way I can tell her the truth.

  “I needed to calm down,” I offer her the partial truth.

  Her brows knit. “Calm down over what?”

  “That kiss. It got me riled up.” I plaster on a wicked smirk so she’ll get my meaning.

  It takes her a second for it to click, something I find amusing about her.

  Lex can be badass about a lot of things, but dirty talk always makes her blush. Just like it does now.

  “That’s not why you left,” she mutters, sitting up and looking the other way, letting her hair fall forward to hide her blushing face.

  “Oh, that’s completely why I left,” I assure her, brushing her hair out of her face. “I was way too turned on.”

  Her gaze darts to me and narrows. “You were not.”

  “I was, too. But what I don’t get is why this is pissing you off.”

  “Because you’re lying. I don’t … I know you don’t see me like that.”

  I make a big show of rolling my eyes. She’s smart, but she can be so damn clueless sometimes. “You’re hot, so stop trying to pretend you’re not.” Her lips part in a protest, but I talk over her. “And having your body pressed against mine while you make those little whimpers—”

  She throws her hand over my mouth, her cheeks on fire. “Stop it.”

  My lips curl into a smile against her palm. This is what I love about her—how we can tease each other even after I basically had a mini meltdown in the hallway.

  “Why? I’m just telling the truth.” I mumble against her hand.

  She glares at me, and I can tell she wants to protest, but I know she’ll be lying.

  “Whatever,” she finally mutters, lowering her hand from my mouth. “Did you ask your friend if he will try to figure out who’s trying to blackmail me?”

  “Nice subject change,” I tell her. “But I’ll let you have it for now.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she says dryly.

  I can’t help smiling. I don’t even know why, other than this—her and me and this playful banter—makes me feel more comfortable than anything else in my life. Always kind of has.

  “You’re welcome,” I say, handing her a beer.

  She takes it from me, her brows knitting. “What’s this for?”

  “Holden told me to give it to you,” I tell her. “I think it’s his way of showing that he’s cool with you.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.”

  “No, I do. In fact, I think I need it right now.” She twists the cap off then takes a long drink.

  I do the same then stand up. “And, to answer your question from earlier, yes, I did talk to Ellis. He’s going to try to help us, but he needs your phone.”

  “Okay.” She stands up and steps off the air mattress. “Do I get to go out there? Or do I have to sit in your room the entire time I’m here, like I’m your damn prisoner or something?”

  A slow grin spreads across my face. “As appealing as that sounds, you can do whatever you want. There are no rules here.” I offer her my hand, not certain if she’ll take it but hoping she will.

  She takes in what I said, relaxing a smidgeon. “I kind of like the sound of that.” Then she takes my hand.

  I’m not sure what that means. If she’s playing the role of my fake girlfriend or is just getting more at ease with me.

  I hope it’s the latter.

  I really do.

  And I hope I can handle the latter.

  Ten

  Alexis

  I’m feeling pretty good right now, numbed on beer and secondhand smoke. Deep down, though, I can hear the whisperings of guilt begging me to stop. But the more beer and smoke I consume, the quieter
those voices get. The quieter everything gets.

  The worry.

  The pain.

  The agony.

  I wasn’t even aware I could feel agony until it was gone.

  “You doing okay?” West asks, tangling his fingers through my hair.

  We’re sitting on the sofa in the living room. Ellis is across from us, trying to do … well, whatever he’s doing to track down who’s blackmailing me. He tried to explain it, but I didn’t really understand half the things he said. West trusts him to do this, though, so I guess I do, too. Just like, apparently, I’m trusting him to play with my hair.

  He’s been doing it for the last … I’ve lost track of time, so I’m not positive how long it’s been going on. But it’s definitely been a while, and he seems pretty content doing it. And I seem pretty content with letting him. I think that might be because I’m a little bit buzzed …

  Or maybe a lot.

  “Your hair’s so soft,” he tells me as he combs his fingers through the strands.

  I rotate in the seat to face him. “We already talked about this, dude. My hair’s a tangled mess, and if you keep combing your fingers through it, you’re gonna end up losing them.”

  “Hmm …” He combs his fingers through the strands again. “I think I’ll take the risk.”

  Holden, who’s sitting in a torn leather sofa by himself now—the Harlow woman left at some point—glances up from his phone. His gaze bounces back and forth between us. “Are you guys always like this?”

  “No,” I say at the same time West tells him, “Yep.”

  I give West a really look. “We so are not, so stop lying.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” He brushes his fingers through my hair again. “But we should be.”

  I roll my eyes. “No, we shouldn’t.”

  He cocks a brow at me. “So, you’re saying this doesn’t feel good?” He continues to play with my hair.

  My lips part to say no, but the lie won’t leave my lips. Instead, I lift the beer to my lips and take a long swig.

  West gives me a cocky grin, to which I respond with a dirty look.

  It’s weird—us being like this when, only a couple of hours ago, we were kissing each other then freaking out. Or, well, I freaked out. West said he got a little too worked up. I'm still not positive if I believe him, though. That West could see me like that.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” West tells me suddenly.

  Shit. Did I say my thoughts aloud?

  No…

  At least I don’t think so.

  “And you’re stoned,” I retort with a shake of my head.

  “True, but you’re still beautiful.” He stares at me, his gaze tracing the lines of my face.

  And he’s making me feel all shaky.

  “You’re so fucking ugly.”

  “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

  For a stupid moment, I almost cry and I don’t even know why.

  “Hey, didn’t we talk about this in the room already?” I warn, feeling extremely uncomfortable at the moment.

  “Yeah, and the conclusion of that conversation was that I think you’re beautiful, but you want to pretend like I don’t think that.”

  “Oh, good God,” Holden mutters, pushing to his feet. “This conversation is making me nauseated.” He strides out of the room and down a hallway.

  Ellis smiles amusedly. “Mister Dead Inside is having a hard time with you guys’ PDA.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.” West chuckles, removing his fingers from my hair but only to pick up his beer from off the coffee table. He takes a drink then sets it back down before focusing back on me, leaning in and lowering his voice. “What about you? Are you having a hard time with our PDA?”

  I can’t tell if he’s joking or not but, knowing him, probably.

  “Yeah, it’s making me nauseated, too,” I quip.

  “You’re a liar,” he whispers in my ear as he starts playing with my hair again.

  Yes, West, I am a liar through and through.

  “And you’re high and drunk,” I tell him again, slightly turning my head toward him.

  “So are you,” he whispers softly then sniffs my hair. “Your hair smells like strawberries.”

  If I were sober, I may have freaked out, but I’m much calmer when I’m buzzed.

  “I’m surprised it doesn’t smell like smoke,” I say.

  “It does a little bit.” He sniffs my hair again. “But it also has a hint of strawberry scent in it.”

  I turn my head to look at him. Since he’s so close, our lips end up a sliver of an inch apart.

  “Are you gonna smell my hair all night?” I question, arching a brow.

  He gives me a dopey grin. “That all depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On if you’re gonna let me.”

  I shrug. “Whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

  His grin widens. “I think buzzed Alexis might like my PDA.”

  I roll my eyes but say nothing, because I know he’s right. However, I worry what will happen when I sober up and all these buzzed and hazy decisions catch up with me.

  West suddenly grimaces then leans away. At first, I think he’s annoyed with me, but then he reaches into his pocket and digs out his phone.

  As he reads a message, he goes from happy, buzzed West to a grumpy, buzz-kill West in the snap of a finger.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “It’s my mom,” he mutters. “Reminding me of that stupid party I have to go to tonight, or else she’s going to destroy my chance at getting a job.” He rolls his eyes as he pockets his phone. “I swear, she’s getting bitchier and more demanding by the second, which is saying a lot.”

  “Why is she doing this to you?” I wonder.

  “Who the hell knows?” He gives a stiff shrug, picks up his beer bottle, and starts picking at the label.

  I feel bad. He’s clearly upset, and he’s done so much to help me out. I want to help him, too, but I’m not particularly good at fixing problems. Obviously.

  “What can I do to help?” I try anyway.

  He contemplates, rubbing his lips together, then he leans forward and puts his lips beside my ear. “We could go back to my room and kiss some more.”

  Even through the haziness in my mind, my heart manages to react, speeding up. “You said you didn’t want to do that right now … Not when I’m still not … over Blaine.” I’m still not sure if I agree with him. I feel like I am over Blaine and Masie, but I’m not good with feelings, so who really knows?

  “Yeah, I did say that.” He’s tangling his fingers through my hair again. “But I might be too buzzed to lie right now.” He leans closer, his lips brushing against my earlobe, causing a shiver to roll through my numb body. “And the truth is that I love the feel of your lips, Alexis Baker. They’re soul-consuming.”

  My heart pulsates as his words soak through the haze foggy of my mind.

  Since when does West talk like this? Because the West I know is all jokes and humor. He’s a flirt, but not like this, not … so intense.

  After everything I’ve learned about him recently, I’m starting to wonder just how well I know West.

  I hold my breath, unsure how to respond to this new, serious West whispering truths into my ear.

  If I were to whisper truths back, I’d tell him that I like the feel of his lips, too, that they’re also soul-shattering. But Nothing Alexis doesn’t really know how to tell the truth anymore, so her mouth opens, ready to spill lies into the smoky air.

  But Ellis stops me. Not intentional, though part of me is grateful he does.

  “Hey, Alexis, I think you just got a text,” he says. “And I think it might be from this unknown caller. You might want to come check.”

  I blink, tearing my attention off West and getting to my feet. I can feel West’s gaze on me as I make my way across the room and take my phone from Ellis.

  Because of how buzzed I am, I’m not too stressed out as I
tap open the message. But the instant I see what’s on it, reality steals every ounce of calmness inside me.

  Unknown: Have you figured out what I took from your parents’ room yet? If not, maybe this will help you figure it out.

  There’s a video file attached to the message. I don’t want to push play—every bone in my body screams at me not to—but the need to know is greater than the need to float in the hazy, unknowing smoke. So, I do it. I push play. And what I see rips my soul right out of me and tears it into unfixable pieces.

  “You’re so fucking ugly.”

  “Your skin is as cold as ice.”

  “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

  I can’t breathe.

  My necklace is choking me.

  As I watch the video of what happened to me that day in the bathroom, I realize what was taken from my parents’ bedroom.

  It was the necklace I was wearing that goddamn day. It belonged to my mother and was left to me in her will. I had worn it up until that day. But afterward, I had taken it off and put it in her room, sealed it in there like her body was sealed in her grave, where I could never see it. It was the last time I had stepped foot in her room.

  I know I should look away from the video, know I shouldn’t watch me crumble, but I can’t look away. Can’t breathe. Can’t think. Exist.

  I didn’t know anyone had filmed what happened. I’m not even sure Jay did since the angle of the video was taken from a stall. But maybe it was one of his friends. Maybe they watched.

  Maybe they saw me.

  Saw.

  I am Alexis Baker.

  Alexis Baker, the girl breaking on the floor and everyone can see.

  Vomit burns my throat.

  I’m going to throw up.

  Shit.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask Ellis, my tone shaky.

  Ellis’s forehead creases. “It’s down the hall; the first door on the right.”

  “Thanks.” I take off, clutching my phone, that stupid video still playing.

  “Lex.” West rushes after me.

  I quicken my pace, hurrying into the bathroom and locking the door. Then I collapse to my knees and vomit everything out of me—the beers I just drank, the fries and shake from the diner, my sandwich from before I left my house.