She had taken the decision-making process away from me with that move. This was good. I sat down on top of one of the picnic tables and rested my elbows on my knees. I hung my head, letting the sun’s rays beat down on me while I enjoyed my cigarette break and caught my breath. Closing my eyes, I tried to push all thoughts of Emory Montgomery from my mind, because it was for the best in a situation like this.
“Mind if I try?”
My head lifted. She was now dressed in a pair of deep purple jogging shorts, standing just a few feet away from me. I kicked myself for having looked away from her so soon, because I would have seen her changing if I hadn’t. I wondered if those shorts had been beneath the spandex pants she’d worn, or if she actually stripped in the middle of a parking lot to change into them.
“Go right ahead.” I motioned toward my board.
I eyed her as she placed one foot on my board while lifting her arms out at her sides for more balance. I silently wondered if she still had made the decision for me, just in an unexpected way. Was this going to be a summer fling between us? Surely, she wouldn’t want anything more from me, not a girl like her. I wasn’t going to kid myself into thinking this was the start of a beautiful friendship, because I’d dealt with her kind before, and I knew they never befriended my type—ever.
After snuffing out my cigarette against the concrete top of the picnic table, I stuffed the butt into my front pocket. Once I downed the remaining swigs of the water she’d given to me, I stood and started to her side. She was balancing fairly well for a first-timer. It was then that I realized this girl held the power to surprise me, something no other I’d met had ever held.
“Good, you’ve got some serious balance and core muscles going on,” I praised her.
“Gymnast, remember?” she countered, her stare locking with mine. A crazy, sexy smile slowly stretched across her face, and I got the feeling my compliment meant something to her.
“Right, how could I forget?” I stepped a little closer, ready to catch her in case she fell. “Now that I’ve shown you some of my moves, I’m hoping you’ll do the same and let me see some of your gymnastic moves.”
“You don’t want to see any of my stuff. It would be boring.” A pink tint colored her cheeks, and I grinned like a damn idiot at being able to embarrass her.
“Oh, come on.” I gripped her hips when she wobbled to the right too far while trying to pop the front of the board up the way she had seen me do. “I can assure you that nothing you could possibly do would bore me.”
Emory froze and took one foot off the board. Her eyes locked with mine, and a sense of confidence burst through their brightness that I enjoyed seeing. It let me know a different girl lived inside of the one who seemed so perfectly poised—one who wasn’t able to turn away from a challenge.
“Is that so?” Her words were soft, but bold all the same.
I nodded, loving how she was flirting with me. “Definitely.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Did that mean she was going to show me something?
She stepped completely off my board, forcing me to release her hips, and walked into a grassy patch nearby. Straightening her back, she glanced over her shoulder at me for a split second before breaking into a run. She completed what had to be ten crazy flips—some of them one-handed, some of them without any hands at all, each of them as mesmerizing and mind-blowing as the other—before she came to a stop with her toes pointed and her arms held above her head, fingers fanned out to the sides.
“Whoa, that was badass!” I clapped. “My shit doesn’t even compare to that.”
Her head fell back, and she laughed as she started toward me.
“That? Nah, that was nothing really. I probably learned how to do that entire routine when I was in the second grade.” She wasn’t boasting by any means; she was just being honest. It was all said in an attempt to downgrade her performance, I could tell. “And I nearly fumbled on my dismount, so don’t go tossing out any gold medals.”
“Gold medals? Are you training for the Olympics or something?” I wasn’t sure why I asked. Normally, I would have left it where she had and continued with something else, inserted a swift change of subject or something, only because I didn’t care to get to know the girls like her who used me in an act of rebellion. This time I didn’t want to though; I wanted to know more about her and what she had just done.
Emory Montgomery had captured my attention in ways I didn’t understand.
And to think, I assumed I had the option to walk away from her seconds ago. I couldn’t have been more wrong. There was no walking away from a girl like this. She was the type you stuck with just to see where you would go.
“No, but it was a goal at one point. Well, maybe not a goal, but more like a dream. I think I’ve already missed my mark with that one. There are certain ages and guidelines and stuff.” Her lips pressed together into a thin line, and she glanced up at the sky. She was thinking about something hard; whatever it was, she didn’t seem happy about it. “I should probably get going. Do you want a ride, or are you planning on hanging out here for a while?”
“Sure I’ll take a ride,” I heard myself saying before I even thought about her offer.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMORY
Cole was unexpected, and I couldn’t believe I had stayed at the park with him, learning how to ride a skateboard and talking, for nearly an hour. My mother would probably interrogate me as soon as I walked through the front door. She would want to know where I had been and what I’d been doing. I was sure there would be a long lecture, one that included listing the rules for being grounded. My stomach tightened at the thought.
Cole tucked his board under his arm and skimmed his eyes over me. My heart palpitated from his sudden, direct attention.
As I rounded the car and opened the driver’s side door, I noticed Cole staring at it with an emotion I couldn’t name reflected on his face.
“Damn, you have a nice ride.”
“Thanks.” My voice sounded indifferent and slightly cold.
It wasn’t that I was ungrateful for the car, but more that, I was irritated at how I’d gotten it. It had been a gift for my sixteenth birthday from my father, because he wouldn’t be home to celebrate with me. Again.
The last birthday I remembered him being home for was when I was nine. He and my mother had argued the entire day. They thought I hadn’t heard, but I had. Chelsea and I both had. Thinking back, I couldn’t remember what they had been arguing about, but I could picture their tense expressions and fake smiles.
That particular birthday was my most vivid, but not because of any reason a nine-year-old would remember. It was memorable, because of my wish.
Just before blowing out my candles, I remember glancing at my parents. They were finishing their argument in hushed whispers and intense stares a few feet away from my friends and me. My mind had raced through a long list of things to wish for before finally settling on one. I wished that my parents would never argue on my birthday again.
That year my wish came true because my father never attended another birthday of mine after. He even stopped coming to Chelsea’s, so maybe I was partly to blame for the way she turned out If I had never made that particular wish, she might have turned out normal without a hellacious, rebellious streak. Our father’s quick decision not to come to our birthdays crushed her in more ways than it had me. It was then that I learned something valuable—while my sister might be older, it didn’t make her stronger or her skin any thicker.
I blinked, and my father’s gift to compensate for his inability to be where I wanted him most last year stared back at me.
“Jesus, don’t make yourself sound too thrilled to be driving it,” Cole teased as he slipped into the passenger seat. “Wouldn’t want to appear as though you’re bragging or anything.”
A smile formed on my face from his words. “I sound like a privileged brat, don’t I?”
“Your words, not mine.” He grin
ned.
Inserting my key into the ignition, I stared at him. “Well, I’m not. Not really. This car was a birthday gift from my father last year, because he couldn’t be bothered to make it. He and my mom don’t get along sometimes. He skips birthdays because of it.” I didn’t intend to tell him so much. It had all slipped past my lips without much thought.
“That’s a crap excuse if I ever heard one. He should be a man and suck it up. Doesn’t he realize he makes your birthday worse by not being there for you?”
“I don’t know. I guess, to him, he just assumes his absence makes my birthday more enjoyable because at least I don’t have to hear the two of them argue the entire time. He doesn’t have to fake being happy for my benefit when he’s really boiling inside from something my mother has said. It’s easier.” After shifting into reverse, I backed out of my parking space.
“That’s some shitty parenting on both their parts if you ask me.” Cole ran a hand though his reddish blond hair, accenting the tousled look he already had going a little more. “I don’t have much room to talk in that department though. My mom is as shitty of a parent as they come.”
Turning out of Calloway Park, I headed toward my house. This entire conversation was not one I expected to happen. When I offered Cole a ride, never in a million years would have I thought I would find myself bonding with him over how screwed up our parental situation was. No one ever talked to me about stuff like this; no one knew my parents fought the way they did either. Even though they argued at our parties growing up, they did it so discreetly that no one ever seemed to suspect a thing.
It was nice sharing this little bit of myself, of my life, with someone who seemed to relate without harboring any judgments.
“Why do you say that?” It occurred to me that I could use this conversation to my advantage and find out why he had moved in with the couple next door. Maybe then I would learn what their names were.
Cole glanced at me. “You don’t really care to hear about all that, and I’m not willing to tell you. She just is. That’s why I moved in with my sister and brother-in-law. I’ll leave it at that.”
“Okay.” Reluctantly, I turned into my driveway and cut the engine on my car. What I’d just learned of Cole replayed through my mind as we climbed out of the vehicle. The girl was his sister; I guess I could see a resemblance between them. “Well, I’m sure I’ll see you later.”
The front door to my house opened before Cole could respond, and my mother stepped out onto the porch. She was dressed in her usual Martha Stewart flare, complete with a flowery apron and high heels. She smiled at the two of us, but I could see how forced it was, how fake. There was a flicker of curiosity burning through her eyes.
“See you later.” Cole pulled out a pack of cigarettes and popped one into his mouth. I watched him as he searched around for his lighter. Suddenly, he jerked, as if just remembering he was forgetting something, and he opened the back door of my car. He grabbed his skateboard lying on the backseat. “Don’t want to forget this thing, even though you looked hot riding it.” He winked.
My cheeks heated from his compliment, and I zeroed in on the cigarette dangling from his bottom lip. He had to be the sexiest guy I had ever seen. There was a confidence that emanated from him, which heightened this epiphany for me.
“Who was that?” Mom waited to speak until Cole had stepped into his sister’s driveway, but I still wondered if he could hear her.
“Cole Porter. He moved in next door over the weekend.”
I started past her, not wanting to risk him hearing the horrible things I was sure she was about to say in regards to him. I knew exactly what she wouldn’t like—his clothes, his skateboard, his bad habit of smoking cigarettes.
“What was he doing in your car? How do you even know him?” She pressed further when I didn’t give her an elaborate answer.
I opened the front door, squeezed inside, and kicked off my shoes. “I don’t know him, not really. I saw him moving in the day I was washing your car.” I started toward the kitchen, in need of a glass of water. My mouth suddenly felt too dry. “He was in the park when I was on my way home from practice, and I decided I would be neighborly and introduce myself.”
This wasn’t a bold-faced lie. I did end up introducing myself. I wasn’t sure that was truthfully my only motivation for pulling into the parking lot and talking with him. She didn’t need to know that though.
“He looks like a hoodlum. I can’t believe you just gave him a ride home.” Her voice was low and filled with a strong level of distaste. “I don’t want you spending any more time with him.”
And there it was, the inevitable tug of her parental control. I was on a tight leash, this was nothing new to me, but Cole was a nice guy. I hated how she could so readily write him off like that.
“He is not a hoodlum.” I reached into the cabinet beside the sink and grabbed out a glass for myself. “He’s a nice guy, who doesn’t know anyone or anything about this town yet. I was just being polite, Mother.”
I assumed that maybe if I acted as though I were performing some sort of community outreach toward him she would drop it. In the future, I would just have to be more cautious when it came to hanging out with him.
“He is, Emory. Just by looking at him, I can see it clearly,” she insisted. “He’s a skateboarding, cigarette-smoking hoodlum. We don’t need his type of riffraff in this neighborhood. You are to stay away from him. Do I make myself clear?”
I pressed my glass into the fridge door for water. My insides blistered, and I attempted to tame my tone before I replied. Her words didn’t surprise me. I had known she would say each of them the second she saw Cole climb out of my vehicle. What surprised me was the level of anger that swelled in my chest and scorched my tongue at hearing them.
“Do you hear me, young lady?” Her tone dipped to a new level of frustration and annoyance with me. “What would your father think if he saw you riding around with a boy like that? Better yet, what would everyone else think—all your friends, all my friends? No, I will not have you hanging out with someone like him, Emory. I won’t have it. He is nothing but bad news.”
“I get it. He doesn’t meet your standards,” I snapped. “He wouldn’t meet Dad’s either, but where is Dad? Shouldn’t he have a say in this argument? Did you run him off again?” The words all tumbled from my mouth before I had a chance to filter them.
My mother’s eyes widened at my defiant tone and sharp, hurtful words, and for the first time in my life, I thought I might make my mother cry from something I had said.
I held my breath, waiting for what she would say in response to what was undoubtedly my most outspoken moment with her in the history of my life. My chest felt as though my heart were about to explode from my chest and land on the floor between us.
“Who do you think you are speaking to me that way?” It wasn’t a question she wanted me to answer; it was more along the lines of a scolding. “Your father left for another job. I did not run him off again, Emory.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” I didn’t finish my sentence. Instead, I slipped past her and headed for the stairs, head down, eyes blurred with tears.
I had never back-talked my mother like that. On one hand, it felt liberating and exhilarating, while on the other, it made my heart pulsate in my throat and a hard knot of dread form in my stomach.
I took the stairs as fast as I could without spilling my water, and headed straight for my room. The second I closed my door, I leaned against it for support while wondering if she was going to come after me. Normally, my father pursued her in arguments; my mother was the avoider. I prayed she would hold true to that form and leave me be.
Footsteps on the stairs forced all those thoughts from my mind though.
“Emory, don’t you walk away from me like that!” I had never heard her shout so loudly at me before, although I never gave her reason to either. Not really. This was a new side of her, as well as a new side of me, cracking through ton
ight. “You are grounded, little girl!”
I reached out and flicked the lock on the door so she wouldn’t be able to come in. My heart hammered so hard as I did this that I could feel the pulses of it beating in my fingertips. I’d never acted this way before. Never. Why was I suddenly so defensive about a boy I had just met?
“I already was grounded,” I said through the door. There was no condescending tone added to my words. In fact, they were pretty much devoid of any emotion, but I was sure that didn’t matter. I should have remained quiet.
My mother’s loud exhale met my ears, followed by the sounds of her retreating steps seconds later. I slipped down the length of my door, still gripping my glass of water. After I set it down on the floor beside me, I remained perfectly still until my heartbeat returned to normal.
Moments later, I walked across my room to lift up my bedroom window. After climbing out onto the garage roof, I stared up at the sky, replaying everything that had just happened. My eyes dipped to Cole’s window at the sight of movement. He was there, leaning out like the night before. The smoke from his cigarette curled and twisted around his head while he stared at me, as though he had been waiting for me since leaving my car.
The smirk I had the pleasure of witnessing up close and personal earlier twisted his lips as he kept his eyes locked with mine. My heart hammered for a completely different reason than it had moments before as I held his stare. Something inside of me was changing, I could feel it, and I knew that it had everything to do with this boy.
Cole put his cigarette out on the window sill and then turned away from me. He disappeared from my view and I blinked, wondering why I felt so enthralled by him. My stomach knotted as I began to question whether this new change in me stemming from his sudden presence in my life was a good thing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Damned Page 11
