From: 9565876
Subject: Rules are for pussies
Date: October 4, 1:45 a.m.
To: 9543254
No… tired now… night
______________________________________
From: 9543254
Subject: Rules are for pussies
Date: October 4, 1:46 a.m.
To: 9565876
Sweet dreams, Six
xx
Pretty sure I passed out staring at my phone, a goofy smile on my face as I took in the kisses he’d sent.
~*~*~*~
The next morning I felt like shit and knew I looked it too as I walked into my psych class. I’d put my hair in a messy bun, had worn no makeup, and topped my jeans with Holden’s huge Gonzaga hoodie that I’d stolen. I really wanted to keep my sunglasses on, but I always thought only assholes wore them inside, so I reluctantly slipped them off, immediately squinting at the glow of the fluorescent lights. I climbed the stairs and took my usual seat, put my elbow on the armrest, then rested my forehead in my hand.
I think I drifted off because I startled when I heard a voice in my ear from behind. “Rough night, Priss?”
Gable. Of course.
I’d been doing a really good job of avoiding him this week outside of having to deal with him at the bar, but I guessed my luck just couldn’t hold up for long. I shooed him away with my hand and put my head back in my palm, hoping if I ignored him he’d leave me alone.
“What was your poison?”
I let out a deep breath and shook my head. I should’ve known he was one who couldn’t take being ignored. “Seven Seas something,” I answered with a groan.
He chuckled, still too close to me. “Nice. 7 Seas Ballz Deep is the shit. Good choice, Priss.” He put his hand on my back and rubbed it up and down a couple times which made me stiffen. When he moved his hand up over my hood and started massaging my neck lightly then played with the strands of hair that had fallen out of my bun, I sat straight up pulling away then turning slowly to look at him over my shoulder. “What?” he asked with a slight frown.
“Why’re you being nice to me?” I asked, blinking slowly and squinting, the lights in the room still screwing with my head.
He smiled. “I know how it feels, babe. Hangovers are the worst.”
I couldn’t keep the surprise off my face. Babe?
“If you want, after class, I’ll take you to my house and make you my hangover cure.” He smiled again. Smiled, not grinned, not smirked. Smiled.
“Uh… I have another class…”
“Just let me know.” He winked then sat back in his chair because Dr. Horner had come in and had started her lecture.
I can’t even begin to remember what the lecture was over because all I could do was sit there, head in hand, feeling like shit and wondering what was up with Gable’s one-eighty. Was it that he finally figured out I was his pen pal so he was bringing the flirting into real life now? And if he hadn’t figured it out, well, he just wasn’t trying. I mean, hello, I drunk emailed him last night and now I had a hangover.
But I was curious about where he lived and wanted to see it, but I was also afraid. I mean, who the hell knew what was awaiting me there once he got me alone. Would he keep being nice or revert back to being an asshole which would probably upgrade to supreme asshole once he was on his own turf. I finally said, Fuck it, because if he really did have a cure for hangovers, I was all in because my head was killing me.
When class was over, I lifted my head gingerly to see Gable crouching on the balls of his feet on the steps to my right watching me, waiting to see what I’d do, his whiskey eyes focused so warmly on mine. I had to close my own eyes for a few seconds after taking him in. God, so handsome. Then curiosity won out. I opened my eyes and gave a small nod at which he smiled then stood and held out his hand. I took it and felt the spark between us again, and gazing up at him, saw that from the baffled look on his face he’d felt it too. So weird.
What was even weirder was the fact that he was being so sweet to me, which of course just made me fall a little bit more for him.
And wasn’t that just wonderful.
~*~*~*~
Ever been hated by hundreds of women at once? That’s what it was like when Gable and I walked outside the psychology building, him still holding my hand as he led me to his car. I would’ve pulled my hand from his, but I was walking with my eyes half closed trying to keep as much sun out as possible because I’d forgotten to put on my sunglasses, my head hurt too much for me to make any sudden movements, and also I think I must’ve still been a little drunk.
Yeah, we’ll just go with all that, shall we?
But it seemed that every woman we passed was glaring at me like she hated my guts.
“So, I get the feeling that I’m not the most popular person on campus right now,” I mumbled. He glanced down at me waiting for me to explain. “Look at them. They’re all giving me the evil eye.” I nodded at one particularly vengeful looking vamp.
He looked around as we walked then chuckled.
“So how many of them have you gone out with?” I asked.
He knocked his arm into my shoulder playfully. “Why? Jealous?”
“God, not that again.” I frowned.
He snorted.
“Seriously, how many?” I persisted. I had to admit it was kind of fascinating watching these women’s faces when they saw that Gable and I held hands, the astonishment, the acrimony and envy that they shot in my direction at thinking he was with me.
“A few.”
“Hm.”
I knew that should’ve made me more than wary about him and that I shouldn’t let my mind go where it was currently going, but I was honestly thrilled at just holding hands with him and let myself imagine for a few minutes that we really were together and I was the envy of every woman on campus.
As I studied him out of the corner of my eye watching him walking so confidently by my side with not a care in the world, it just made me sigh, checking out how hot he was in his olive green military jacket over a maroon Hallervan hoodie, faded jeans and the brown boots I’d seen him wearing before. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, but that just made his eyes even more striking. He had about two days’ worth of scruff covering his square jaw and all I could do was shake my head at how damned good looking he was.
As we walked, I kicked around the theory of how people seemed to take more shit from good looking people and how, if I wasn’t so attracted to him, I’d already have written Gable off some time ago because of his rudeness. I decided this was something I needed to ask Dr. Horner about because it left me feeling a little shallow.
We made it to the parking lot where there were puddles of water everywhere, and, God help me, I knew I was in so much trouble (and that my aforementioned theory was shot to hell) when Gable peered down at me with his lazy grin then suddenly scooped me up in his arms bridal style making me yelp as I laced my arms around his neck and he carried me to his car. “Can’t have you getting your feet wet,” he mumbled with a smile as he himself walked through the small pools of water the recent rain had left.
Oh, my God. Most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. My heart definitely took a hit with that one.
When we got to his car, he set me on my feet, and adding to the giddiness I was still feeling from his carrying me, I saw that he drove absolutely what I’d pictured he’d drive—a cherry red 1970 Chevelle. Badass muscle car. Of course.
“My oldest brother used to have the same car but his was black,” I said quietly, still reeling from how sweet he was being to me.
“He has good taste,” he said with a grin as he opened the passenger door for me. I got in and he leaned across me, grabbing the seatbelt and pulling it across my lap. “It’s tricky,” he explained as he messed with it then turned toward me and his face was right there, his lips not an inch from
mine. We stared at each other for a moment and when my eyes slid down to his mouth, I saw the sides of it tip up. My eyes jumped back up to see his dancing with amusement as a smile formed on his beautiful face. Shit. I turned away quickly feeling the heat rising in my cheeks as he finished buckling me in then closed my door, going around to get in the driver’s side.
“Stop,” I muttered to myself before he got in, reminding myself I’d only end up getting hurt if I wasn’t careful.
Breathing in the smell of the leather seats, I was suddenly blasted with a bit of nostalgia for home and when he got in and fired up the Chevelle, tears suddenly stung the backs of my eyes because it reminded me so much of Heath and made me miss him and Holden and Dad terribly.
“You okay?” Gable asked, glancing over at me, his brow furrowed.
A tear escaped and I brushed it from my cheek. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. Your car just reminds me of home.”
He reached over and squeezed my hand, smiling at me, and, dear God, if he didn’t stop being so nice, I was going to fall to pieces right there and have a big boohoo-fest. But he did stop when he moved his hand to the gearshift and put it in reverse, backing up, then threw it into first and we took off.
“Where is home, Scout?” he asked and my head swung to him as I gaped at him in surprise. “What?” he asked.
“I didn’t know you knew my name,” I said stupidly immediately wincing because, of course, he knew my name. We worked together. We had class together. Good gosh.
He chuckled. “Yeah, that stuff has a way of getting out at O’Leary’s. Oh, wait, did I blow your cover or something?” He grinned over at me and if I was any lesser a woman, I’d have completely melted right there in my seat. But I was a strong, hardworking farm girl, so I only had a mild stroke taking in his handsome face and then just a teeny amount of arrhythmia flared up when he winked at me.
Holy damn.
“Yeah, that was dumb,” I mumbled, turning to glance out my window through half-closed eyes, the sun still too bright for my hungover self.
“So?”
I turned back to him in question.
“Where’re you from?” he repeated with a chuckle.
Oh. Duh. “Stone Springs.”
He looked over at me again and gave me his half grin throwing in a raised eyebrow trying to slay me even more, I supposed. “Stone Springs, you say… so, would that be in Alaska? Florida? Outer Mongolia?”
I laughed in spite of feeling like an idiot. “Idaho.”
“Ah,” he muttered. “So what’s there to do in Stone Springs?”
I shrugged. “Not a whole lot. We own a farm, we have a pond to swim in, so there’s that.”
“No movie theater? Bowling? Quarterly purges?”
Well, wasn’t Gable a funny guy. “Smartass. We have a little theater but it only shows two movies at a time every two months, so there’s not a huge variety. If we want to bowl, we have to go to Idaho Falls. And purges are only bi-annually, so we have to make them count.”
He laughed. “Who’s the smartass now?” We rode in silence for a while before he asked, “So, you’ve got a brother?”
“Two, actually. Both older.” I knew I had to be careful here because I’d told him quite a bit about my family in our emails and if he hadn’t already figured things out, I didn’t want to give myself away. God, this whole pen pal thing had taken on an evil life of its own.
“Yeah? What are their names? Tonto and Lone Ranger?” I watched as he chuckled, and, boy, did he look good chuckling. The indentions around the sides of his mouth were even attractive. Dang.
“Good one. Never heard that before.” I rolled my eyes. “Heath and Holden. They’re seven and four years older than I am.”
“Sisters?” he asked, glancing over at me.
“No.”
“You’re the baby, huh?” He winked at me again and I had to concentrate on keeping my mouth from hanging open.
“Yeah. So, what about you? Brothers? Sisters?”
“Three brothers. Zeke’s a senior, plays football. Ryker’s a sophomore wrestler and Loch’s a freshman.” He gave me a quick glance.
“Wow. Your poor mom.”
He laughed. “Yeah. Always had at least two in diapers for years. Believe me, she lets us know all the time what little hellions we were.”
“What about your dad?”
“What about him?” He smiled as he kept his eyes on the road.
“What does he do?” I knew he was a mechanic, but it was fascinating hearing it all from him for some reason.
“He’s a mechanic. Part owner of a garage with my uncle. That’s where we picked up Lucille.”
I frowned. “Lucille?”
“Lucille,” he said, patting his steering wheel. “She’s my girl. Had her since I was a sophomore in high school.”
I nodded. I totally got the whole naming your car thing. My Honda was named Adam Morrison for the star basketball forward from Gonzaga. As I sat thinking how Morrison’s pro career hadn’t quite worked out, I noticed that we’d entered a neighborhood and Gable had now turned onto a street then parked in front of a cute cottage-style house. We were behind a black pickup, which seemed to be the same one he’d driven the day he’d stopped to help me with my tire. There was also a blue pickup in the driveway along with what appeared to be a sixty-something orange Mustang.
“Home sweet home,” he said looking over at me.
“Gable lives in a house with five gables,” I replied peering out my window.
“How do you know that?” He put his right arm across the back of my seat and playfully tugged a piece of my hair that’d gotten free.
I shivered when he rested his hand on my shoulder, then pulling myself out of my I Can’t Help Going Gaga Over Gable zone, shrugged. “Guess I must’ve heard my dad talking about them at some point.”
He nodded with his lips pooched out. “Impressive. I’ve been leaning toward going into architecture, actually taking a couple classes right now, so I’m seriously impressed that you knew that.” He got out of the car and I watched him walk around moving so smoothly and I got so caught up in ogling him that I jumped when he opened my door. Once again he leaned in to unbuckle me and his beautiful face was right there. Those perfect lips were right there. All I had to do was lean in, like, two centimeters and we’d be kissing. God. While I was staring at his mouth, I realized he’d gotten my seatbelt undone and was facing me at close range now. My eyes moved slowly to his and I found I couldn’t breathe. “Your eyes are beautiful, Scout,” he whispered.
And then he was gone, standing up outside the car and holding his hand out to help me out.
Holy crap.
I pulled in a deep breath through my nose and reached out to take his hand as I got out of the car on wobbly legs. Jeez.
“Zeke, Ryker and I live here,” he explained with a grin, still holding my hand as we went up the walk. “Loch still lives at home with Mom and Dad, but he hangs out here a lot.”
Oh, great. A house where three grown men lived. I braced myself for a blast of yucky man-smell and what would surely be a mess when we got to the door, but once inside, it surprisingly smelled like someone had made cookies and the whole place was rather neat. I looked up at him in what I know was surprise.
“Mom comes by on the weekends and puts us to work cleaning,” he explained, knowing exactly what my look was for.
Right off the bat I saw that the living room housed a huge TV that was currently airing a football game and there was a sofa and two recliners facing it, each of which was currently occupied by huge bodies that were watching the game.
“What’s up?” a guy in one of the recliners, straining his head back, asked, and, good God, he appeared to be an older, slightly larger version of Gable, meaning he too was hot. He wore jeans, a black Bulldogs sweatshirt and running shoes, his long legs stretched out, feet crossed at the ankle on the leg rest.
“Hangover,” Gable replied, still holding my hand and nodding toward me, which made
my cheeks flush in embarrassment. “That’s my older brother Zeke.” I waved lamely at him as he gave me a chin raise. “That’s Ryker,” he said, nodding to the muscular, silent guy, another Gable clone, lying on his back on the couch wearing a gray sweat suit and socks. He nodded at me as I did the lame wave again. Ugh. “And that’s Loch.” He nodded at the other recliner where a younger Gable look-alike sat, who was dressed similarly to Gable, and who was now smiling at me. “This is Scout Patterson,” Gable told them all.
“Hi,” I mumbled, waving again like a dork.
“I think you’re in my biology class,” the youngest one, Loch, said, narrowing his eyes at me looking just as Gable had the first day of psych when he was trying to place where he’d seen me.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You sit in the second row, third seat, middle section, right?”
“Uh…”
“Loch’s like an idiot savant, noticing stupid shit like that,” Gable informed me with a chuckle.
“Fuck off,” Loch retorted good naturedly, flipping him the bird.
Gable let my hand go and walked to where Loch was sitting. “Fuck off? Fuck off?” he asked. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he added then grabbed his little brother in a headlock and proceeded to scrub his fisted knuckles over his head.
“Dude! The hair!” Loch cried, wrestling himself away from Gable, then frowning went to the mirror that hung by the door to do damage control on his hair as Gable laughed at him and called him a pussy which made him frown even more.
“You get that belt Dad told you to pick up?” the guy lying on the couch asked. Ryker, that was his name.
“Yeah. It’s in the car. We can work on the Mustang tonight if you want,” Gable told him.
“Gotta meet.”
Ah, Ryker was the wrestler.
“I’ll fix it myself then,” Gable said shrugging his shoulders. “Gotta work at six, though.” He turned back to me and smiled, taking my hand once again and leading me into the kitchen. At the bar, he pulled a stool out for me. “Have a seat and I’ll fix you up.”
The throb in my head had downgraded to a dull thump and I watched as he opened a cabinet under the counter and pulled out a blender then moved to the fridge to get some things out. While he did this, I looked around the place to see that the beige wall in the living room that I could see had a couple pictures of what I assumed was Seattle at night and a few framed photo collages of the brothers. Looking back at the kitchen I saw a big, round clock hanging over the rectangular table and some kind of hotrod pinup calendar was magneted to the freezer door of the refrigerator with a bikini-clad woman on it lying across the hood of a silver Camaro. The walls in the kitchen were robin’s egg blue and the cabinets were a light oak. I could tell it was a nice house and had been well taken care of.
Gable Page 6
