by Anthology
“That might have to be your nickname for the rest of our lives.”
My heart does that stutter thing again and I am speechless and breathless.
I had put her on the back of my bike because I wanted to fuck with her parents more than anything else. But now I feel a stirring of want for so much more.
She brushes a lock of hair back from her face and winces when she tugs through a snag. “Oh, my gosh. I must look like I’ve been tumbled in a dryer, right? Is it bad?” She starts to sweep through her hair and her hand sticks in another knot. “You wouldn’t happen to have a brush, would you? Crap,” she swears as she encounters a huge snarl.
“Wait,” I say. “I’ll get it.” I start to work through the tangle with my fingers and she sits still while I work out every last one. When I’m done, her hair is silky and smooth and I am not ready to stop running my fingers through it, but I probably should.
“Don’t stop,” she says quietly. “That feels really good.” She pulls her feet from the water. “Wait,” she says, and she adjusts so that she’s lying over my lap. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Hell, at this point, I’d be sad if she made me stop.
“It’s fine,” I tell her.
She relaxes against me and says, “Talk to me, will you?” Her eyes close and I’m pretty sure if she got any more relaxed, she’d fall asleep.
My insides settle in a way they never have before. Usually, I have a roiling, boiling sensation in my chest, like something is fighting to get out of me and I must work to contain it at all times. But now… Now I am at peace. My soul and my heart connect like tumblers lining up in a lock. Snap! It opens up.
And it scares the hell out of me.
I pull my hands from her hair, thinking that her proximity is the problem. But the tumblers don’t realign. They don’t lock her out. They let her in. They invite her in and offer her a fucking apple pie so she’ll sit and stay for a while.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You stopped rubbing my hair.”
I lift her off my lap and set her beside me. “All the tangles are out.”
“Oh.” She sighs. “That’s good.”
She suddenly looks uncomfortable and it kills me that I caused it.
“Thank you for fixing my hair,” she says quietly.
I grunt.
She giggles. Then she snorts and covers her mouth. I think that snort is the sexiest thing I have ever heard.
She grabs my arm and lifts it toward her face, studying my tattoo, running her fingers over it.
“It’s not scratch and sniff, sweetheart.”
“What is it?”
I lean close to her and whisper, “It’s a tattoo.”
She scoffs. “I know that. But what does it mean?”
“I got that one when my grandmother died. I was sixteen.”
She points at another one. “And this one.”
“When I was emancipated by the state. It turned out no foster families wanted a sixteen-year-old with a bad attitude.”
“You didn’t have any other family?”
“No.”
“What’s this one?” She points to the side of my neck, and her finger tickles the sensitive skin. I suddenly wish she would press her lips there.
“When I got out of jail and got into college.” I rub my nose, suddenly feeling really uncomfortable.
“How did you turn it all around?”
A smile tugs at my lips. “I had this really great parole officer who took me under his wing. He made it all work out. I owe him a lot.” I’ll never pay him back everything I owe. “He’s the one who put me on the path I’m on.”
“What path is that?” She watches me closely and I have all of her attention. And I love that feeling. This girl is intoxicating in the best sort of way.
“Law. I want to help boys like me. I want to give boys who have nothing and no one on their sides a second chance. Or a third chance. Or any chance.”
I’m suddenly feeling really exposed so I lie back and look up at the sky.
She lies beside me, her shoulder touching mine. She doesn’t say anything for a while, but the silence isn’t oppressive or cloying. It’s comfortable.
Her voice is quiet when she says, “Thank you for bringing me out here. If I never see you again, I want to tell you that I had a really great time.”
The thought of never seeing her again kills me.
I take a deep breath.
“What if I told you I want to see you again?” I hold that breath.
She says nothing.
“Guess not,” I mutter.
She shoves my shoulder. “Shut up. I was thinking.”
“If it requires that much thought, you’d better say no.”
“No.”
My heart falls. I should have seen that one coming. Rich girls don’t fall for guys like me.
“I don’t want to say no,” she rushes on to say. She sits up and looks down at me. “Unless you want me to say no. Do you want me to say no?”
I take her hand in mine. “I want you to say yes.”
“What would we do?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.
“It would be a date. I have no idea.”
“Would…you…kiss me?”
I cough into my fist. “Well, I hope so,” I croak.
“What else would we do?”
“Umm…dinner?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Umm…maybe a movie.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Maybe we could take a walk.” Girls like that shit, right?
“Could we go on a picnic?”
“If you want to.”
“I want to. When?”
I scratch my head. “When is good for you?”
“I don’t have anything to do on Saturday night.”
“Seriously?”
She nods. Then she squints at me. “Are you just asking me to be nice?”
A laugh bursts from my throat. “Sweetheart, nice is not a word that has ever been used to describe me.”
“So, we’re going on a date on Saturday,” she sings out and claps her hands. “I’m so excited.”
Her happiness is catching.
Holy shit. I am in so much trouble.
“I had better get you back home.” I’ve enjoyed my time with her and I’m really not ready to give her up yet.
“Can we ride some more?” she asks, blinking those green eyes at me. I suddenly realize that I would give her just about anything she wanted.
She suddenly leans over and kisses my cheek really quickly. “Thank you,” she says. Her cheeks redden and my dick presses insistently behind my button fly. I get up quickly, hoping she won’t notice.
There’s one thing I do know. This is not a girl you fuck. This is a girl you take home to meet your mother.
I wish I had one.
Chapter 3
Madison
I had assumed we were just going for a short ride, but it’s two hours later when he returns me to my car. He pulls to a stop and the rumble beneath my bottom ceases. I don’t get up just yet. For the past hour, I’ve been riding with my cheek pressed tightly against his back. It feels nice and safe and comfortable.
“I didn’t want to come back,” he says to me from over his shoulder. He doesn’t look at me. Something tells me he would look everywhere but at me even if we were facing one another.
“Then why did you?” I lean to the side so I can see his face. He has a fine dusting of hair on his jaw and I want to touch it to see if it’s bristly or soft. I force my hands into my lap.
“I figured you’d be ready to ditch me.” His eyes meet mine and hold them.
“I wasn’t,” I say softly.
A grin tips the corners of his lips. “Good.”
“I’m really excited about Saturday. How should I dress?”
“I was hoping you might wear nothing.”
I freeze. Mainly because I can’t take a deep breat
h. Air? What’s that?
“I’m just kidding!” he rushes to say, and he raises his hands to cup my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I was only joking. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. What you have on now will work. We’re not going anywhere fancy.”
“Okay.” I draw in a breath. “I’m in the A building in the complex. Room 23. Or should I just meet you somewhere?”
“I’ll pick you up.”
I can’t stop smiling. I probably look like the worst sort of ninny. “I’ll see you then.” He unstraps my helmet and I get off his bike. My legs are wobbly as I stand up, and he helps me straighten myself and get steady with a hand beneath my elbow. “I had a lot of fun today.”
“I did too.” He looks almost like it hurts him to admit that.
“I’ll see you Saturday,” I whisper to him.
He nods and I walk away. I pop my trunk so I can get my coat out. It’s getting cold outside. It takes me a minute to arrange my things, get my coat, shake it out, and put it on. I look over and find Bob standing by the fountain talking to some shady-looking men. I’m pretty sure they don’t go to school here.
I open my car door and start to slide in, but I start to think that Bob might want my phone number in case something changes before Saturday. I jot it down really quickly on the back of a receipt and go to give it to him.
I hear one of the men he’s with as I walk closer. “Who was that on your bike?”
He laughs sharply. It’s not like the laughter I heard from him today at all. “Just a girl.”
Just a girl? A girl I have a date with on Saturday, or my name would have been better. But apparently, I am just a girl.
“She got a name?” one of them asks.
“I never can remember their names,” he says. “Too many of them.” He laughs sharply again and lights a cigarette. “That one is no different from the rest. Just something to do.”
My heart sinks all the way down to my toes. I crumple my phone number up and drop it to the ground. At least I won’t have to get dressed up on Saturday.
Maybe I just dodged a bullet.
Chapter 4
Bob
I run a comb through my hair again and adjust my shirt. I’d picked out a button-down shirt, which I tuck into my best pair of jeans.
I go into the living room and Phil turns to stare at me. Phil was once my parole officer. He’s the man who was willing to give me a shot. And now he’s letting me rent a room from him until I get in a position where I can move out on my own.
He stares a little harder and I start to squirm.
“What?” I ask.
He gets up and waves a hand in the air. “Follow me.”
I do, albeit reluctantly. “Where are we going?”
“You need a tie,” he says.
I turn back in the other direction. “I do not need a tie.”
“Get in here!” he yells from around the corner.
I think Phil was a drill sergeant in a former life. I know he was a cop, but good grief. “Yes, sir,” I mutter.
“I heard that.”
“I can tell,” I mutter still.
He goes to his closet and pulls out two ties, holding them up against my shirt, one by one. “This one,” he says.
I push his hand back. “I don’t want to wear a tie.”
“Nobody wants to wear a tie, dumbass,” he says. “We wear them because they show the other person we respect them and ourselves because we care what we look like.” He thrusts it into my hand.
“I don’t want it.” I push it back.
“Have you ever worn a tie?”
I didn’t exactly come from a tie-wearing family. “…No.”
“Not to church? Funerals?”
I scoff. “Church? You read my file.”
“So you don’t know how to tie a tie,” he says, his voice so soft and kind that it drags along my skin, chafing me from the inside out.
“No,” I admit.
“Come here.”
“Seriously?” I grumble.
He grins. “Don’t make me count to five.”
I shake my head and let him put the noose around my neck.
“This girl must be something special,” he says as he ties it and fixes my collar.
I nod.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get dressed up for a girl before.”
He finishes the tying and I look in the mirror. I look like one of those monkeys that sits on someone’s shoulder. “I’ve never met one like this before,” I admit.
“How long have you known her?”
I shake my head. I feel like I’ve known her all my life, but I know I haven’t. “A few hours.”
“What’s she like?”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “She makes me feel happy inside.”
He punches my shoulder. “Good. Don’t do anything stupid tonight.”
“What would you classify as stupid?” Does that mean I shouldn’t be myself?
“Don’t try to sleep with her.”
I jerk my eyes to meet his. “Seriously?”
“If you want to fuck her, fuck her. If you want to make her fall in love with you, don’t fuck her. It’s that simple.”
“Can’t I do both?” I murmur.
“Not usually. Do you need any money?”
“No, I’m fine.
“You sure?”
He’s like the dad I never had.
“Positive. But thank you. And thanks for the tie.”
I walk toward the door. He calls out to me, “Hey, Bob!”
I open the door and turn back to face him, standing half in and half out.
“You’re valuable, kid,” he says. “Never forget that.”
“I know.” It took me a long time to realize that my thoughts and feelings had worth. But I know it now.
“I’ll see you in a few hours,” he reminds me. He arches a brow at me in question.
I nod. I won’t even try to stay over. Well, I might try. But I won’t do it. I like Madison. I really like her.
“You want to borrow my car?” he asks. “You don’t want to mess her hair up on your bike.”
My mouth falls open. Before I can say a word, he tosses his keys in my direction. I’ve never had anyone trust me the way that Phil does. I catch the keys and squeak out a heartfelt thank you, then close the door behind me.
Phil is a crazy asshole at times. When I first met him, when he was taking care of my probation paperwork, he was the biggest dickhead on the face of the planet. He wanted me to be perfect. Then I realized he just wanted me to succeed and things changed. I finally had someone on my team and I’d never had that before. It’s a good feeling to know that you’re cared about. Hell, just being wanted was different. When he asked me if I wanted a place to stay for a little while, I jumped at the chance and haven’t regretted it even once since then.
I get in the car and go to complex A, and look for room 23, and then I knock on the door. The door opens, but it’s not Madison. It’s someone else.
I hold the flowers I brought for her in my hand and fidget. “Hi, is Madison here?”
“Nope,” she says and she smacks her gum.
“Nope?” I repeat like a total dumbass.
“Nope.” She smacks her gum again.
“Do you know where she is?”
She shrugs. “She went dancing with one of the guys in her math class.”
“But…we had a date.”
She laughs. “Oh, you’re the one.”
“The one what?”
“The one she caught telling your friends she was just a girl and that her name didn’t matter because there were so damn many of them you couldn’t keep them all straight.”
What the hell is she talking about?
“She followed you after you dropped her off that day. She wanted to give you her phone number. But she heard you.”
“And now she’s out on a date? With somebody else?”
She nods and pops her gum a
gain. “Yep.”
“Do you know where?”
“At the club on Main Street. I can’t remember the name of it.”
I turn on my heel and stalk in that direction. I don’t know what bothers me more—that she’s dancing with some random guy or that she stood me up. But I do know what bothers me most. It’s that she heard my stupid comment.
I have to explain it to her. And I have to be sure she’s not kissing some random guy. She’s supposed to be kissing me, damn it.
Chapter 5
Madison
Skip’s nice, but he’s not Bob. That much is for sure. He uses his fake ID to get us both a beer, and then we sit down at a table in the corner of the busy bar. Music thumps so loudly from the speakers that he can’t hear a thing I say to him, so I lean in to speak in his ear.
He puts his arm around me and leans toward me—way too close. I scoot back.
“You want to dance?” I yell, because he’s getting a little grabby.
He downs the last of his beer and I do the same with mine, and then he pulls me onto the dance floor.
There’s nothing I love more than dancing. Well, except maybe books, but that has nothing to do with this situation. I love to dance. The beat of the music moves up from the floor, into the toes of my Keds, and up my legs. Skip can’t keep up with me, so I spin and turn around him on the floor. He grabs my hips and tries to pull me close to him, but I came out here to dance, not to have someone grab me and grind against me. Been there. Done that. Don’t want to do it with Skip.
This night could have been so different. It could have been wonderful, if Bob had actually felt for me the same way I was beginning to feel for him. I loved holding on to him on the back of his bike, and he was the perfect mix of tender, sweet, and sexy.
Static zips along my skin all of a sudden, and I turn to search the crowd. I can’t even see him, but I know he’s there. Bob Caster has entered the building.
The song turns to a slow one, and Skip pulls me close to him. His hands encircle my waist and slip beneath my shirt to touch my naked skin. I pull his questing fingers out.
Suddenly, Skip is gone, and he’s lying on the floor. I look up to find Bob staring down at me, his chest heaving. “What the fuck are you doing, Madison?”
