He moves even closer. "I'll stop looking when you stop showing, your majesty."
I can feel his eyes on me almost as it were his fingers brushing across my skin. I bite my bottom lip as his eyes run slowly across my body, taking in the curve of my breasts, moving down across my exposed skin to the dark hollow of my navel, then further down to the pink lace that's the only barrier between his gaze and my pussy. As soon as his eyes drop to my panties my breath grows ragged.
"Seriously, cut it out," I whisper, looking up into his eyes. He's just inches away now. I can feel his breath on my cheek.
"No," he replies, meeting my eyes with all the confidence in the world. His head dips towards mine, and he reaches out a hand and slowly, tenderly lifts my chin.
"Rafe! Get down here right this instant!"
The moment is over almost as quickly as it began. Rafe moves away with a smile, and winks at me before turning to the staircase. "Don't forget to send me a pair of those panties, Princess. Jail can get lonely."
He turns the corner and vanishes, heading for whatever awaits him downstairs. I fall back against the door frame, my legs suddenly too weak to support me, and take a deep, shuddering breath.
Was he just fucking with me, or was he about to kiss me?
Rafe's head pops back around the corner. "Hey, not the My Little Pony things, OK? Something lacy and sexy, there's a good girl."
With another wink he's gone.
I take a deep breath and gather myself before I rush back to my room, grab a nightgown and follow Rafe downstairs. I can already guess what awaits him down there.
By the time I reach the foot of the stairs Rafe is only a few feet ahead of me, he'd been waking so slowly. Mom and dad stand at the open door. Dad looks concerned, but mom looks like she's about ready to kill someone. By the way she glares at him it's clear that Rafe would be first choice, but she might be happy with whoever's standing within arm's reach.
"Come and explain yourself, young man," she hisses icily. "Tell us why there's a police officer standing at my front door first thing on a Sunday morning."
Rafe just shrugs.
I reach the door just behind him, and I'm a little relieved to see that the officer is... I want to say Frank, or Fred. He's one of dad's poker buddies, anyway. I only met him a couple of times but he seemed nice enough, and even if he was a power-mad douche cop he'd probably go easy on Rafe since he's Karl's son.
"You're Rafe Stone, son?" the officer asks. I catch a glimpse of his badge. Donald McIntyre. Wow, I was way off.
Rafe nods, but remains silent. I guess he doesn't talk to cops if he can help it.
"We received a report that a young man matching your description was involved in an altercation yesterday evening at 15 Elm with two young men," he glances at his notepad, "names of... errr, Michael Bowen and Lawrence Anderson. Can you account for your whereabouts between the hours of 10PM and midnight?"
Again Rafe remains silent. He just stares down the cop, as if daring him to bring out the cuffs.
"Son, did you hear me?" Donald turns to dad with a questioning look.
"Rafe, answer the officer. Where were you last night?" Dad waits through more silence, then shakes his head. "I don't know what to tell you, Don, I really don't."
The officer sighs. "Damn, I'm sorry to do this, Karl, but if he won't speak up I'm gonna have to take him in.” He really does look like he doesn't want to arrest Rafe. “OK, son, please give me your hands. I'm afraid I'll have to cuff you."
I feel my heart begin to pound in my chest. I can't let this happen. I speak almost without thinking, just grasping at the nearest words and hoping for the best.
"Wait!" I blurt out. "Rafe wasn't at the party last night. I was there until about 11, then I left and met Rafe at Hola Burrito. Right, Rafe?"
Rafe looks at me with surprise, then nods.
Donald looks back and forth between Rafe, me and dad for a moment, trying to get his head around the situation. Eventually he addresses dad. "I don't know, Karl, we got a pretty detailed description and a positive ID from a witness. I don't want to imply anything, but something doesn't smell right here."
I can tell I need to up the ante if the cop is going to buy it. I take a breath, look him straight in the eye and launch into my best dumbass Valley girl impression.
"Oh my God, I bet this came from Manda Sloane, right? Gawd, she is just the biggest bitch alive! She's just mad because I told Penny Graham from school that I thought Manda put on a few pounds even though she said she's been totally sticking to her juice fast for, like, I don't even know, like three weeks or something? Anyway, Manda just hates me right now because Penny told her what I said about her weight even though I told her that in confidence, so Manda just wants to make my life a living hell and stuff, just like she did with Stacy from home room when she said Manda looked like she bought her nose job out of a catalog! That's why I had to leave the party early, because Manda was just totally bitching me out in front of, like, everyone and then Rafe called and saw how upset I was and then he took me out for a burrito cause I told him that's, like, my biggest comfort food for when I'm feeling down or I've got my period and stuff!"
Aaaaand breathe.
Officer McIntyre looks like he's been hit in the face with a Clueless DVD. His eyes grow wide, and for a moment he stands in stunned silence as he tries and fails to process my crazy onslaught. After what feels like an eternity he simply says "Wow," and beckons Karl out onto the porch.
I take a deep breath and try to get my heart rate under control. I've never in my life lied to a cop. Hell, I've barely ever even spoken to a cop, and now I'm... what, and accessory to an assault? I don't even know if it's against the law to lie to the police.
Just as I'm beginning to breathe normally again I turn to Rafe, who narrows his eyes and gives me a quizzical smile that sends my pulse pounding once again.
Damn it, woman, focus!
I lean against the door and strain my ears to hear the conversation between Karl and officer McIntyre. They speak quietly, but just loud enough for me to pick out a few sentences.
"Well, I just don't know, Karl. I mean, it all sounds a little crazy to me, but this Sloane girl does had a reputation as a bit of a troublemaker. Your Maddy never so much as got a ticket for jaywalking, so I know who I'd be inclined to trust."
Dad mutters something unintelligible, and Donald replies.
"Well that's what I'm saying. Does Maddy have any reason to lie for your son?"
"Not really, Don," replies dad. "They only met last week, and as far as I can tell Rafe's been teasing the shit out of Madison. I can't imagine why she'd cover for him if it wasn't the truth."
"OK, then. For now I'm gonna put this down to teenage bullshit and leave it alone. If and when either of the guys decide to come forward and tell me who beat the shit out of 'em we might have to revisit the matter, but for now they're not talking."
I step back from the door as dad finishes up his conversation, and I turn to find mom looking like she's trying to blend into the wallpaper behind her. I feel pretty bad for her. She was right to get mad, but as far as she knows she's just exploded at Rafe for absolutely no reason.
Dad returns from the porch, closes the door and looks guiltily at the floor.
"Well, Rafe, I guess Aubrey and I owe you an apology. Right, honey?"
Mom gave a quick, embarrassed nod and mutters, "Uh huh."
"I'm sure you can understand why we might have jumped to the wrong conclusion, but I'm still sorry we didn't give you the benefit of the doubt from the get go. Can you accept our apology?"
For a moment I worry that Rafe will keep up the surly attitude, which would really fucking piss me off since I know he's totally guilty. Fortunately he nods. "Yeah, I understand. I would have done the same if it was the other way around. No harm done." He looks at his watch. "OK, I'm going back to bed. I like to sleep in on a Sunday. If any more cops come calling, please ask them to come back after lunch."
Rafe turns towar
ds the stairs. As soon as mom and dad can't see his face he gives me the briefest of smiles. It's just a quick flash, but to me it feels like I'm bathing in the warmth of the sun. This is the first real smile I've ever seen cross his face. Not a smirk, or a grin, but a smile. And it's all for me.
Back in the safety of my room I fall onto the bed and wait for my heart to stop pounding. I've only been awake five minutes, and since opening my eyes I've lied to a cop's face and come a breath away from kissing my stepbrother. As Sunday mornings go, this is a bit of a big one.
Strangely, though, it isn't the thought of the cop that's making my heart thump in my chest. On any other day I'd be a sack of nerves if I had to so much as ask a cop for directions, but lying to Officer McIntyre is, right now, something that hovers at the back of my mind.
Was Rafe about to kiss me?
I don't know what to make of it at all. Rafe must have assumed he'd be leaving in the back of a squad car. Had that little moment between us just been one last little fucked up game he was trying to play with me, or did he really want me?
I jump at a sudden knock on the door, and only just have time to make sure I'm covered up before it cracks open.
"Hey," Rafe pokes his head between the gap. "You hungry?"
"Huh?" That was the last question I was expecting to hear from him.
"Hungry? You know, for food? Bacon, eggs, pancakes. All that good shit. I think I owe you a breakfast after that little Oscar-worthy performance downstairs."
I sit up and look for something clean in the mess of clothes on the floor. "Uh, sure, I could eat."
Rafe smiles. "Great. I'll pay, you drive. I think your mom might call in the state troopers if I borrow her car."
I shrug off my nightgown, grab a dress slung over the edge of my bed and quickly pull it up my body. I notice that Rafe has made no attempt to avert his eyes as I change, and I feel a little guilty thrill rush through my body at the thought of him watching me.
"Ummm, can you zip me up?" I walk over to the door and turn around to allow Rafe to find the zipper that runs up my back. I could easily have reached it myself, but... well, I don't want to.
"God, I must look a mess right now. I haven't even brushed my hair."
Rafe's hand lingers at the nape of my neck as he tugs up the zipper. "Shut up, you don't look a mess at all, and you know it." I can't see him, but I can tell he said it with a smile. "You always look hot."
Jesus. The safest thing I could do now would be to fake a hangover, close the door and lock it until it's time to cash my social security check.
Instead I turn around, flash Rafe a shy smile and slide past him into the hallway. As I walk down the stairs I make sure to stay ahead of him so he can't see my grin.
Frank's is a cozy little diner about a mile from the house, just off the highway and popular with truck drivers heading for the north. I eat there once a month and never more, because the menu seems specially designed to ensure that the customers are too groggy to ever stand up again once they slide into a booth. Enormous burgers, towering stacks of pancakes and a Death by Chocolate cake that may have actually sent a few diners to an early grave are the order of the day.
Frank's is also a popular 'recovery' venue. It's the only place within ten miles that opens before 9AM on a Sunday, so within minutes of the door opening at 6AM the place is usually pretty full of bleary-eyed party-goers who haven't quite managed to make it home before breakfast. I have no experience of this personally, but Penny assures me that breakfast at Frank's is the perfect way to dull the embarrassment of the walk of shame.
This particular morning the diner is as quiet as the grave, and that can only mean one thing: the cops must have shut down Manda's party after I left. Manda's ragers usually last until the early hours, and the survivors use the 6AM 20 minute walk to Frank's to sober up, occasionally stopping to throw up by the side of the road to make room for pancakes.
That would explain a lot about Officer McIntyre's visit to the house. If the cops showed up at the party and found a couple of guys bleeding on the floor, it made sense that Manda would have ratted Rafe out to keep herself out of the cells. She'd already been arrested a couple of times for being drunk and disorderly, and though her dad had always smoothed it over with the cops I get the impression he warned Manda that eventually he'd let her cool her heels a while to teach her a lesson.
"Counter or booth?" I ask Rafe as we walk through the door.
"Booth, of course," he replies. "Counter's for assholes."
I punch him on the shoulder. "Then you'd be right at home up there, don't you think?"
Rafe chuckles as he slides into the booth closest to the door. "Look who got up on the wrong side of the bed." He grabs a menu. "What's good here?"
I don't need to look. "Insanity Burger," I say with supreme confidence. "It's a double cheeseburger with melted Brie and a home made spicy sauce, with the best curly fries this side of the Mississippi. It's so good it'll give you an orgasm. Twice."
Rafe closes the menu and waves for the waitress. "Sold."
With only a couple other diners in the place the waitress comes to the table in seconds, far too cheerful for 9AM on a Sunday morning. "Well hey there! What can I get for you this fine morning?"
I speak first. "I think I'll haaaaave... umm, OK, I'll have the garden salad and a glass of--"
Rafe interrupts my order. "Woah woah woah, what's this salad shit? You're not standing behind your recommendation?"
"No, the burger's fantastic. I'm just on a diet."
Rafe shakes his head. "Nuh uh. Don't do that to yourself. Don't spend your life convincing yourself you enjoy rabbit food just so you can squeeze into a dress with a slightly smaller number on the label. If you want the burger, eat the damned burger."
I bite my lip and stare at the menu, suddenly uncertain.
Rafe turns to the waitress. "We'll take two Insanity Burgers. And two chocolate shakes."
The waitress nods, scratches out the order on her pad and gives me a sly wink as she walks away. I'm not entirely sure what she means by that, but I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be damn, your date's hot!
Rafe taps his fingers on the table top. "Hey, do you have a phone? I gotta check in with my parole guy."
I nod, set my purse on the table and start to sift through all the random crap I carry with me. Lipstick, eyeliner, sanitary towels (OK, just tuck those back in. No need for him to see), my little notebook and a pack of cherry Tic Tacs. No phone.
"Sorry, I must have left it at home. There's a pay phone by the bathroom, I think."
Rafe isn't listening. "Hey now, what's this?" he asks, snatching up my notepad. "Could it be Madison's journal? Maybe a rundown of her most intimate secrets?"
I reach out to grab it, but Rafe pulls his arm away. "No, it's not my journal," I reply. Thank God, because my actual journal has been pretty Rafe heavy this past week. "It's just a story I've been working on. Give it back."
Rafe holds up a finger to silence me. I slap it away. "Rafe, give it back. Now."
"No way, I want to read this masterpiece. I didn't know you were into writing."
"You were too busy being a douche to ask. Give. It. Back."
Rafe's eyes flit down the page as I sit there, growing pinker and more embarrassed by the second. Nobody is supposed to read my stories. They're nowhere near good enough for an audience.
"This is... actually, this is pretty good. Where did you get the idea?"
Stepbrother Fallen Page 7
