Spider

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  He looks up and nods, his face a wasteland.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  He rakes his hand through his hair, his teeth chewing at his bottom lip. “We’d been warned to stay off a lake that had frozen over. I didn’t listen, of course, and partially fell in. I was fine . . . I managed to get myself out of the water, but she came out to check on me, and slipped and . . .” He trails off.

  “She fell in?” Horror washes over me.

  He nods, his throat working as he swallows convulsively. “The ice cracked wide open when she fell, and she went completely under. I tried to pull her out . . . but she kept slipping off. She was so cold . . . and I held on to her hand as long as I could. I tried to pull her out, but I wasn’t strong enough. I screamed and yelled for help, but there wasn’t anyone around.” His eyes close and I see wetness there. He sucks in a shuddering breath. “Our hands just . . . slipped apart.”

  Cold fills me up, and I feel breathless as if I am there in the moment, watching it happen with him.

  Resignation settles on his slumped shoulders. “My father blames me.”

  “No,” I whisper. “He can’t. Why would he? It was an accident. You were kids.”

  “You’re too nice, Rose.”

  “I’m not, you know.” I pause. “I want my stepbrother.”

  His eyes find mine, and I’m not sure how long we stand there, staring at the other.

  A bolt of electricity shoots from me to him and my lower body is hot. I want him pressed against my skin.

  His gaze lingers on my lips then slides back to my face.

  I want to go to him, to wrap my arms around him, but he moves first, wrapping his arms around me and clutching my head to his shoulder. “It’s time for me to go.”

  No!

  I’m a mess of emotions, scared of everything he makes me feel.

  Scared of how lost he is.

  His chest heaves as he releases me. Warm, tattooed hands cup my cheeks. “Lock the door behind me, and if that guy even so much as looks at you, call me.” He steps back to scribble his number on a slip of paper and place it on my desk.

  “Don’t go,” I whisper as he moves to the door. “Stay.”

  He doesn’t respond, but his face says everything. I see torment. I see indecisiveness. It’s just as hard for him to walk away as it is for me to watch him go.

  I can’t breathe.

  He’s leaving me.

  He opens the door, slips outside, and is gone.

  Rose

  THE NEXT DAY, AS RUMORS about Garrett’s black eyes begin to circulate around school, I mentally prepare myself for a possible retaliation.

  It happens before my calculus class after lunch. Aria stomps up to me at my locker—as well as she can in her high heels—and lets me have it, her high-pitched, shrill voice echoing down the concrete halls as she tells me what an awful person I am for letting my stepbrother beat Garrett up.

  “It was clear to everyone that you were coming on to him at the diner,” she says, her hands on her hips. “And thanks to you, the baseball coach has kicked him off the team for fighting.”

  “He was wearing a beanie and hiding in the woods.” How much more does she need to know? “He’s an idiot.”

  Her eyes are cold. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you and your little group of misfits are disinvited to Spring Fling. Trenton is crazy to even want you there.”

  My teeth snap together. I don’t care so much for me, but Oscar and Lexa will be devastated.

  She tosses her hair back. “I don’t know why he even likes you.”

  My hands curl around my books. God, I’m sick of this place. I’m sick of girls like Aria. Mostly, I just want to run away and find a place where I belong . . . somewhere, anywhere that isn’t here.

  Oscar’s face appears next to me and his nose is scrunched up as if he smells bad fish. “Having some trouble?”

  “No,” I say, not taking my eyes off her. “I’ve got this. Aria was just leaving.”

  Aria rakes her eyes over the black leather duster he’s sporting on top of his school khakis and white button-up shirt. She grimaces. “You are so weird,” she spits disdainfully before flouncing off.

  “What a little bitch,” he says, following her with his eyes before turning to me. “You okay?”

  I nod. I don’t want to tell him about the party.

  “You know I really don’t care about that party, right?” he says as if he’s read my mind.

  I arch my brow and he chuckles. “Okay, I care, but if this episode with Garrett makes you feel uncomfortable, then we can just ditch it and do our own thing.”

  “And miss out on the champagne fountain and the DJ? Sad.” I smirk.

  “Don’t forget the copious amounts of drunk people we can make fun of.”

  “They’re all assholes.”

  He smirks. “Not us.”

  I laugh and hug him. No matter what the rest of this year brings, I’m glad I have him.

  After school, I dash to my dorm, where I quickly discard my plaid skirt and white shirt, exchanging them for my jeans and another black polo. I’m in a rush and barely have time to braid my hair before I’m out the door and off to work, which I’m oddly looking forward to. I need the distraction to keep me from thinking about Spider.

  I’ve just gotten to my car when Trenton’s deep voice reaches me. “Rose! Wait up!”

  Great. I managed to not see him all day because I’m worried about how he’s going to react to the whole Garrett incident, but now here he is. I paste on a smile then turn and watch him jog toward me.

  As he gets closer, I soften. With his wavy, sandy blond hair and strong physique, he’s easy to watch.

  “I’ve been chasing you all day,” he says as he comes to a halt in front of me.

  I can’t help but smile. “Did you run clear across campus to find me?”

  He nods. “I went to your dorm, and the girl downstairs at the desk said you’d just left.” He stares down at me, a little frown between his eyes. “Are you avoiding me?”

  I shift from one foot to the other. “You know about Garrett, right?”

  He gives me a quick nod. “You okay?”

  “Thanks to Spider.” I twist my lips. “The gossip is Garrett got kicked off the team. I assumed you might be upset with me about that since you’re his teammate.”

  Trenton gives me a serious once-over. “It’s you I’m worried about. I like you, Rose, a lot.”

  I fiddle with my backpack.

  He comes a bit closer, his scent like sea air and ocean breezes. “Garrett and Aria happened to be at my house the other night when I mentioned coming to Jo’s. They tagged along, and I wish they hadn’t.”

  He’s saying the right things, and my heart likes it.

  But . . . Spider.

  “And . . . I’ve warned him personally to give you a wide berth.”

  I think about Oscar and Lexa. “So we’re all still invited to the party?”

  “Of course.” He looks flummoxed that I would even suggest it. I don’t bring up Aria’s comments; she’s his family, and I don’t want to get in the middle of that.

  A few hours later, I am just setting down food on a four-top when Spider walks in the door. I nearly trip over a customer’s leg as I watch him take the same booth he was in last night.

  He’s here! my heart rejoices.

  Don’t get excited! my head retorts.

  As soon as I get the table their drink refills, I straighten my apron and head his way. He has a small bruise under his eye but it’s not nearly as bad as Garrett’s.

  He watches me, his gaze not moving from my face, and I find that the way he looks at me, so intently, is one of the reasons I find him incredibly intoxicating. It’s as if he’s studying me and taking notes.

  I smile at him and he smiles back. “You’re okay from last night, right? Anything happen at school today?”

  I wave him off. “Things are fine. Aria was weird, but don’t worry abou
t me. How’s the famous YouTube video?”

  His eyes brighten. “Sebastian’s been calling me every few hours with updates—like I can’t see for myself that it’s going crazy. The Ellen Show called, or tried to, I think. It’s going to be . . . big.”

  “Of course it is. You’re incredibly talented.”

  There’s a long pause as we stare at each other, and I clear my throat. “So, can I get you anything?”

  He lets his eyes drift over me, lingering on my lips. “Uh, yeah. Actually, I came to talk about this.” He pulls out the copy of Jane Eyre I gave him. “I stayed up until three this morning reading this bad boy. I didn’t finish, but I’m blaming you for the bloody bags under my eyes.”

  “And the bruise?”

  He chuckles.

  My excitement is so high that I have to keep myself from yelling out, I got Spider to read Jane Eyre! Booyah!

  “What did you think?” Before I even know what’s happening, I’m sitting across from him.

  He considers me. “I think . . . Jane is strong. I’m half-way in love with her already.”

  Oh.

  My stomach flutters and I swallow. “And Rochester? What do you think about him?”

  “He’s an arsehole who’s wrapped up in his past mistakes, and that crazy wife of his is insane.” He bites his lip. “I’m at the part where he wants Jane to be his mistress. It’s . . . tense.”

  My body gets hot, imagining him as Rochester and myself as Jane. I picture us somewhere in England, curled up in front of a fire that burns in the bedroom of our large estate. I’m wearing a white gown, and he’s laying me down and taking my virginity—

  I come back as Spider asks, “Does she want him as much as he wants her?”

  My heart skips a beat. “Yes,” I say breathlessly.

  “Tell me how it ends,” he says. “Does he ever get over Jane? Does she go to India with that bloody awful tosser St. John? Does Rochester’s wife kill them all? Fuck—will these people ever be happy?”

  All of a sudden, it feels like we aren’t talking about the book at all.

  Impulsively, I reach out and touch his hand. It seems to be the norm for me when it comes to him. I have no self-control. “Love wins if you let it.”

  My eyes are telling him more.

  At first, he looks confused; then he seems torn as he leans back in his seat, the action pulling his hand away from mine. He clears his throat and looks around the room. I can see he’s retreating.

  I don’t want him to.

  “I should probably head out,” he says, sliding the book back inside his leather jacket. “I told Father I’d come by and talk to him about LA. He knows a lot of people there.”

  It sounds genuine, but it feels like an excuse.

  In the background, I hear the jingle of the bell and the sound of the cook’s voice as he shouts that an order is up.

  I sigh and I’m about to stand up when an arm is tossed around my shoulder and Trenton slides into the booth next to me. He gives me a quick squeeze.

  “Hey gorgeous.”

  I blink and look at him, bringing myself back to reality. “Hey!”

  He throws Spider a glance and a quick greeting, but it doesn’t matter because Spider is already standing and scowling down at us. His face is pale as he pivots around and marches out the door, leaving me feeling winded and very what the hell just happened.

  “Was it something I said?” Trenton asks, his eyes studying my face.

  I shake my head. “No, don’t worry about it. He’s just . . . in a hurry, I guess.”

  In a hurry to stay away from me . . .

  Rose

  I GO THROUGH THE REST of the week weighed down by a rock in my gut.

  Spider consumes all my thoughts.

  I try tossing him out of my head. I go to dinner with Trenton and let him kiss me. I hang out with Oscar and Lexa at the library. I work an extra shift at the diner for Cyndi just to keep myself busy. I even attend a study group for my calculus class that’s kicking my ass, but nothing works to eject him from my brain.

  Anne and Robert arrange another family meal on Friday evening. I look forward to it anxiously, planning on wearing a pair of white slacks and a yellow silk tank with a cream sweater that Anne bought for me at one of her favorite stores. Oscar is in the room when I pick it out and he calls it a “rich old lady outfit”, but I don’t care. I’ll wear anything as long as I get to see Spider.

  I dress in the silk tank and the pants in the bathroom then dash out to the bedroom to let Oscar have a look. I’ve put my hair up in a sleek ponytail, and I do a little twirl for him.

  Oscar gives his approval and I head to Highland Park for dinner.

  It’s not until I get there that I discover Spider isn’t coming. I eat my dinner, feeling disappointed and just . . . bereft. It’s that state of mind that prompts me to bring up the NYU issue again, this time with Robert present.

  Anne’s back goes ramrod straight. “We’ve had this discussion already. I don’t want you so far away.”

  “But why?” I need a freaking good reason!

  Her lips tighten. “You need supervision, Rose.”

  Her words sting me.

  “I’m almost eighteen,” I blurt. “I can go to college in another state if I want to.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m only paying for Winston. It only makes sense that you attend a school nearby so I can supervise you. Plus, that way you can still speak at the galas. Don’t you want to help those kids?”

  My jaw tightens at her manipulations. “Of course I do, but you’re trying to make me feel guilty about wanting to go away to college, Anne.”

  “I don’t like your attitude,” she says sharply. “Please use a respectful tone when you talk to me.”

  Here we go with the manners . . .

  I set down my dessert spoon and stand, needing to get out of here.

  “You haven’t been excused,” she says, wiping her mouth.

  Robert shoots her a soft look. “Rose probably has plans, dear. It’s a Friday night.”

  She lets out a breath and nods. “Fine. It’s obvious you need some time to cool down anyway.”

  I’m about to go but decide to turn back around, my anger too sharp to let go. “Make no mistake, Anne, I know exactly who I am—and I don’t need supervision. I lived a whole life before I ever met you. I took care of myself when Mama didn’t. I kept myself away from Lyle. By the time you came along, I’d seen things you can never imagine.”

  Her mouth compresses. “Enough of that.”

  I shake my head and clench my fists, trying to not raise my voice when all I want to do is yell. “And by the way, I’ve already applied to NYU and been accepted. Whether you pay for it or not, I’m going to New York.”

  She inhales a sharp breath, her hand on her stomach.

  I give them a brief look and stalk out of the dining room. I’m running on adrenaline as I get in my car then squeal out of the driveway and away from Highland Park.

  Before I realize where I’m going, I’m headed to Robert’s penthouse in the city, where Spider is staying.

  The doorman recognizes me from when I helped move some of Anne’s things and greets me warmly as he escorts me to the elevator.

  With nervous fingers, I push the button for the penthouse, my eyes taking in the opulence of the mirrored walls. The elevator comes to a halt, easing open to a marble-tiled floor. I hear music vibrating through the steel front door.

  I knock.

  And knock again.

  The music is turned down and I hear rustling sounds from behind the door.

  “It’s me,” I say. “The girl you’ve been avoiding.”

  The door swings open, and the guy standing there isn’t Spider. He’s around Spider’s age with scruff on his chiseled jawline and wild blond hair that flows off his face like a lion’s mane. He’s wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top, and sweat drips from his forehead.

  Ice blue eyes crinkle in the corners as they stu
dy me.

  I give it right back and rack my brain, trying to recall why he seems so familiar.

  I snap my fingers. “Sebastian? Lead singer of the Vital Rejects?”

  “Yeah, angel.” He wipes at his forehead and leans against the doorjamb, sending me a cocky grin. “And you must be the girl.” He waggles his eyebrows.

  The girl? With emphasis?

  What does that even mean?

  Has Spider been talking about me?

  “Back away from my stepsister, douchebag,” comes Spider’s voice from down the hall, although I don’t see him. He must be in another room.

  “Fuck off,” Sebastian yells over his shoulder. “You forgot to mention how hot she is.”

  “Watch it. I’ll beat your arse if you touch her,” Spider warns him in a sharp tone, and I feel a blush coloring my cheeks. I guess that answers the question of whether or not he’s been talking about me.

  Sebastian opens the door farther and nods his head toward the interior of the apartment. “Come on in. He’ll be out in a minute. He’s got to get gorgeous before we go out.”

  “Oh?” They’re going out?

  Probably to a bar . . . where there are older girls . . . and alcohol.

  Activities I can’t participate in.

  Suddenly I’m rethinking everything. I shouldn’t have come.

  But, I’ve come this far, and I need to see him. I follow Sebastian into the apartment and stand uncertainly in the den as he gets me a soda from the fridge.

  I pick at the sides of my jeans. “Where are you guys headed?”

  Before Sebastian can reply, Spider saunters into the room, and my powers of speech leave me for a moment.

  “Your hair . . . it’s white,” I whisper when I finally regain my faculties, my eyes greedily moving over his sweptback style. The bleached strands perfectly frame his face, accentuating the sharpness of his cheekbones, the darkness of his eyes, the long tan column of his throat. My chest squeezes at the sight of him. How can one guy be so dang hot? It’s not fair to the rest of the fucking world. “What happened to the blue?”

  He touches it. “It’s a throwback, but always a favorite. You like it?”

  “Yes,” I say, my voice breathless.

  I take a step back, my legs bumping into the couch, causing me to suddenly sit. I don’t mind because I feel like something big is happening, and I just needed to grasp hold of it and own it.