You're What I Want (Y.A Series Book 4)

by Sarah Tork

  They were looking too happy right now.

  Before I headed toward them, I observed Tina, feeling my anger rise. She didn’t seem devastated at all. Even though she wasn’t good enough to get a scholarship, she should have been upset that practice was over for a week.

  Miss “I just got a boyfriend so screw everything else” had shown up to the party looking as cheerful as the blue sundress she was wearing. I switched over to Dana, who was slightly less cheerful, but certainly wasn’t looking or feeling like I was. In fact I doubted the pained expression on her face had anything to do with today, but more with the direction she was glaring, slightly misty-eyed.

  Oh God, just what I needed right now.

  I scanned the crowd she was staring a hole through, stopping once the culprits were identified. It was obvious whom she was staring at. Latisha was trying to cling to Roy.

  “Get off of him!” Dana yelled. The crowd parted for her as she marched solo toward them. Tina was missing. I only had to search the room for Gabe and there she was, clinging to his body like it was life support. She was making me sick, acting all lovey-dovey with him when our future in swimming was this close to being over.

  Nobody in this room cared. They were too busy acting stupid.

  “If you ever touch him again—” Dana’s yell blasted over the music, grabbing my attention for the millionth time. It made me feel rage again. These people needed to stop.

  “You’ll what? He has his own mind, you don’t own him, Dana!” Latisha screeched.

  Super Jenna, here to the rescue, was finished.

  Done.

  Finito.

  Arrivederci.

  I grabbed another cup of punch and raised it up at Dana. Dana, slap a bitch if you have to, but you’re on your own!

  I took a drink and faced Tina. Tina, you make me sick. You should have been thinking about an alternate pool the team could have gone and practiced in, not how big Gabe’s biceps are. Your chances at placing in the next meet are slim to none now. You, my pitiful and embarrassing friend, are on your own!

  I took a drink and turned around, coming face-to-face with a very confused-looking bleached-blonde sophomore wannabe “hot” girl, whose name I didn’t know. “What are you doing?” she asked, her button nose crinkled as if she’d smelled something bad.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need to know.”

  People were so nosy these days it was ridiculous. I stepped by her in search of Annabelle. I scanned the room twice and still couldn’t find her. Whatever, this was happening with or without her in the room.

  To her spirit it was. Annabelle, remember always to keep them keen, you got to keep being mean. Crack the whip, believe in yourself, and be strong. But you, my good friend, are on your own!

  I took a drink and faced the crowd with the cup held up high. Salute!

  When outside, I decided to text Anna.

  Jenna: Anna, I’m going home. Remember, your knee is your greatest tool. Knee a fool if you have to, and then say “kisses from Jenna.” Another great idea by moi and you can thank me later when whoever’s pissed you off is on the floor crying in pain. Deuces.

  “What’s your problem?” a voice said from nowhere, startling me. With a pounding heart, I twirled around and found one of the stars of the Royal Heights High School Baseball team staring at me curiously.

  “Tom Colleto, what are you doing scaring me in the dark?” I exhaled a deep breath and scowled. I pointed to Peter’s house. “And to answer your question, I’m upset because of that. I’m sick of always being the serious one.”

  He looked confused, but he still smiled. It made my stomach feel weird.

  “Serious one?” he asked, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

  “It’s competition season,” I exclaimed, looking away in hopes his effect would go away with the sight of him.

  “And you’re the only one serious about it?” Tom asked and the flutters came back. Crapola, now the sound of his voice was a problem.

  I let out a deep breath. “Apparently. Have you seen the rest of my teammates?” I said, calmly. I could totally do this.

  He turned his tall frame toward the house. He was in jeans and a black t-shirt, sandy brown hair slicked back like a greaser from the fifties.

  My tummy did a summersault.

  I had a thing for James Dean looking types.

  Tom looked like he had a motorcycle parked close by, ready to take the night and go for a ride, leaving all this crap behind. I was this close to asking him to take me with him on his imaginary motorcycle. The idea of hugging the back of him as wind blew through us in complete darkness did something deep in my belly and other danger zone areas.

  Imagining myself holding on to his strong back, with my thighs clasped against his hips and my face resting against and inhaling the base of his neck, made me break out in a sweat that had nothing to do with Florida heat.

  This was crazy.

  Why was I feeling like this?

  Maybe it was the alcohol?

  Or stress?

  He could never know. I had to play it normal. Normal, crazy, intense, swimming-obsessed, no-time-for-the-opposite-sex Jenna.

  I was a simple girl, really.

  “They’re inside, right?” he looked back at me and asked.

  “Yeah. Acting like the competition season is the least of their worries. All they care about are their freaking relationships. It makes me sick. Our futures are on the line!” I stated, pointing at the house again.

  My heart ran wild at the end of my rant. I blinked back at Tom and his blue eyes were on me, but his face was emotionless. After four seconds of not knowing what to do to break his shocked state, I did what I did best.

  I yelled irrationally.

  “What?” I screeched with my arms flailing. “You’ve never seen an overly emotional athlete, who’s serious about the sport she loves and who has no patience for people who aren’t taking it as seriously?”

  It was a simple question if you asked me, but the silence coming from him said otherwise. Someone must have pressed the Stop button on his battery pack, probably next to his bum. And what a nice bum it was… huh… okay, what? And since I was losing it, it was time to bounce.

  He smiled at me and it made me dizzy.

  Could have been the alcohol again.

  Probably was a combination of things.

  Okay… going now.

  “All right, well, nice ranting with you. I’m going now.” I maneuvered around him and headed down Peter’s disgusting, trash-filled driveway. There were crushed red plastic cups everywhere and I kicked them on my way down. I was going to go to Brucey’s and I was going to spend the last of my money there. I needed nuggets right now. Nuggets had the power to make me happy again.

  “Where are you going?” a voice said behind me.

  “Oh, my God!” I yelped, stopping in my tracks. I turned around and came face-to-face with Tom, again, standing on the driveway, smiling timidly. I had to stay in the zone… the “take no crap” zone.

  “You scared me, again. Don’t sneak up on a person. Geez!” I screeched, my hand to my heart. He kept smiling and said nothing.

  “Why don’t you speak?” I asked after a ten-second stare-off where I had to literally bite my tongue not to drool at how beautiful he was.

  Looking was okay. No harm in that.

  He shrugged and grinned, making my heart melt further. He looked so innocent. “I’m going to get something to eat,” I told him, but he remained silent.

  “All right, is that it?” I asked him, slowly backing away. He shook his head and I stopped moving backwards. “No? Well, what do you want? To come with me?”

  He nodded eagerly.

  Ugh… so cute.

  “Okay… but you’re buying, okay?” I told him and he nodded. I gave him a nod and moved down the sidewalk. “All right, let’s go.” He fell into step beside me… still silent. “You can stop now.” I eyed Tom, who had the gall to shrug again at me. “Are you go
ing to be silent this whole time?”

  Ten minutes later, we arrived at Brucey’s and it had begun to rain hard.

  “I’m telling you right now, I don’t eat my nuggets with anything but spicy mustard sauce. Not sauce-less and no substitutions,” I informed him as we sat in a booth with our trays of food.

  “Spicy mustard sauce is disgusting.” Tom cringed as I dunked my first nugget in it.

  Let’s see him find this sexy.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, bro.” I grinned, chewing with my mouth open. “You sure you don’t want any?”

  He smiled, not looking like I’d disgusted him with my version of Brucey’s seafood. “Nah, I only eat nuggets with barbeque sauce. It’s the only way to eat them,” he said.

  I let out a gasp and looked away at the window next to me. It was pouring hard, like we were inside a carwash on a stage one cycle, on repeat. But never mind that, he totally just crossed the line with his blasphemous statement that barbeque sauce was better than spicy mustard sauce. He needed a bitch slap for saying that. But I had to calm down and not make a scene because we disagreed on this. If anything, it was a good thing. If we didn’t have a nugget sauce in common, then there really was no chance of a relationship. And yes, I do know that I’m full of crap right now, but that’s not the point either. It was another reason to add to the list.

  “Blasphemous! You’re messed up if you think barbeque sauce is better than spicy mustard sauce, bro.” I rolled my eyes and told him with disgust.

  “Bro?” Tom jerked his chin back. “Why are you calling me bro?”

  “Why not? It’s a term of endearment, an olive branch to create a calming scene, whatever you want to call it.” I scowled at him, eating my second nugget. “You want me to get out of your face, bro? Because I ain’t changing the way I be talking, just to please… you.”

  His jaw dropped and he stared at me like I was crazy, which I kind of was. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Who’d want to fight a crazy person, except another crazy person?

  His expression changed from “wow, she’s crazy” to… smirking? He is not laughing at me! “You best not be laughing at me, bro.”

  “My name is not bro, it’s Tom,” he stated, folding his arms over his chest. “Or Sexy Tom, you choose.”

  I rolled my eyes, eating my third nugget after scooping a huge glop of sauce over it. “How about I call you Bro or Big Dumbo Boy? You choose.”

  He shook his head and looked out the window. “How long do you think the storm’s going to last?”

  I sneered. “You should know that answer, it’s Florida. How do you not know, haven’t you lived here your entire life?”

  “I haven’t,” he said, not laughing, not smiling or smirking.

  The mood had changed drastically.

  Happy time was over.

  He glared out the window, looking like something was really bothering him. I could ask him, but I won’t. Even I knew when to draw the line when it came to personal questions. He wasn’t my boyfriend, heck he wasn’t even my friend, so what right did I have to get information on what was really bothering him all of sudden? It’s a rhetorical question. I had no right. I did have a right however to point out the obvious.

  I leaned in my seat. “Well, sucks for you then. We can’t all be lucky to be born and raised in the cartoon mother ship.”

  I saw his lip curl like he wanted to smile, so I decided to go a little further in my quest of trying to make him feel better. Why did I even want to? And when did I decide to? It just happened all of a sudden, I had the desire to see him smile again.

  Oh, my God… do I like him?

  Before I had a chance to dissect my latest thought, my mouth opened and proceeded with the “Get Tom to smile again” mission.

  “Well, now that we’ve clarified that you’re not an original Floridian, I’m going to have to report you to the council,” I explained with a smile. It worked. He leaned back into his seat, folded his arms across his chest, and smiled.

  “What council?” he asked, his eyes twinkling again.

  “I’m going to ask you a few questions and you’d better answer truthfully,” I stated. “First question, do you like oranges?”

  “Yes,” he said, slowly.

  “Right answer,” I scoffed. “Second question. Who is the greatest cartoon hero of all time?”

  He thought about it for a few seconds and gave me a cute smile. “I plead the fifth.”

  I nodded. “Fine. Now finish this sentence, the best state in the USA is…?”

  “Florida,” he answered slowly.

  “Right answer.” I smiled. “Okay, I’ll keep your secret.”

  He jerked his chin back, looking confused and amused at the same time. “What secret?”

  “Exactly.” I grinned, propping my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my fist. “What secret.”

  *~*~*

  *JENNA*

  “I moved in with my uncle right before junior high,” Tom explained as we walked toward my house. “I used to live in Toronto.”

  “Where the heck is that?” I asked, trying to figure out where that was. It was irritating the crap out of me. “Tell me, I’m drawing a blank.”

  Tom laughed. “Canada.”

  My jaw dropped. “No way!”

  “Yep!” Tom said.

  “You’re Canadian?” I gasped.

  He shook his head. “No, I’m American. I was born in Buffalo, but when I was five we moved to Toronto ’cause my Dad got a job.”

  “Why do you live with your uncle now then?” I asked.

  He looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I took a moment before saying anything. “I can respect that.”

  He cleared his throat and glanced back at me, looking sad. “No offense, I just don’t talk about my family life with anybody.”

  “I got you. I hope you feel better,” I said.

  “I feel better now.” He smiled, making my insides go crazy. I needed to put a stop to whatever he had going on his head.

  “That one, there.” I pointed to my front lawn. “Well, thanks for walking me home.”

  “About what I said at the dance.” He smiled, making my insides go even crazier. I really, really needed to put a stop to whatever he had going on in his head.

  I shook my head at him. “Don’t even go there with me, bro. I got it, it was a mistake, you didn’t mean it.”

  “Oh, but I do,” he murmured, taking a step closer to me.

  I shook my head at him again, sticking my finger into his steel chest, hoping to push him back. “Don’t… go… there… with… me… bro.”

  Still as rock, he chuckled, staring at my finger trying to push his chest back. “Where is there? I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

  In a nanosecond his hand flattened mine against his chest. He took another step into my space and looked down at me. “I want to kiss you, so bad. But I won’t, not if you don’t want me to.”

  Did I want him to?

  Was I completely sane right now?

  Was my attraction to him going to ruin everything I’d worked hard for?

  Was looking at his lips right now the right thing to do?

  To be honest, whatever this was, it was giving me life in a new way I’d yet to experience.

  So….

  In.

  Three.

  Two.

  “Okay,” I murmured, closing my eyes as his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling his entire body around mine, cocooning me just like James did with Annabelle earlier today. So this was what it felt like. I felt warm, and nice, and… something else that had my forehead and the back of my neck sweating for reasons unrelated to the humidity. Tom leaned the rest of the way, his lips softly touching mine, moving them slowly. I inhaled quickly, wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pressed myself into his steely build. The movements of his lips turned wilder, harder. I matched his force and in the next second his tongue was on top of mine, making me f
eel like I was on a roller coaster, which was on fire. My body curved back and Tom leaned in, massaging the back of my neck with his coarse fingertips, digging them underneath my ponytail and hitting a nerve that had me gasping in shock and other… really, really nice feelings.

  This was too much.

  “Enough, Tom,” I panted in the midst of being completely captivated by his warmth, to a point where nothing else might have mattered. That could have happened, but thankfully I still had the sense to put a stop to it before it went way, way, way overboard. We were in front of my house, and yeah nobody was home, but my parents would be home around midnight and having them roll up to me locking lips with a guy they didn’t know was the last thing I needed. I pulled away, gasping for air and clinging to his shoulders for support. After another two seconds, my eyes fluttered open.

  “You taste like spicy mustard sauce,” he whispered, blue eyes taking me hostage.

  Not good.

  “You hate spicy mustard sauce,” I whispered back, trying not to lean forward for another round, or two, or three.

  “Not right now,” he stated seriously, squeezing my waist and pressing warm and rough lips on my enflamed cheeks. My body wanted nothing else but that.

  I exhaled a deep breath and remembered his hold at my waist. This needed to stop. “You should let me go.”

  His hold didn’t waver. “Okay, but just so you know, I really don’t want to.”

  “What do you want to do then?” I asked breathily, feeling my heart beat like a drum.

  “I want to kiss you again. I want to kiss you so bad, my mind’s going crazy right now. Jenna, can I please kiss you again?” he asked.

  I cleared my throat, my eyes on his lips. “Well, since you said please—” I was interrupted again as his lips pressed warm, rough to mine, leaving me wild and wanting, bruised and panting. His hand massaged the back of my neck and jawline… and it felt too good, like the type of good where if I didn’t pull back and take control, then… then… I didn’t even know what could happen. The possibilities were endless. Using everything, and I mean everything, I pulled away, panting like I’d run a marathon. I folded my arms behind my head, giving him my back. I could hear him trying to recover his own breath, but I felt like his eyes were on my back. He wanted more. Hell… I wanted more. But this wasn’t smart. Hell, nothing about what was happening right now was smart.