Until You

by Penelope Douglas

  I clenched my fists and my teeth.

  God, I couldn’t wait to have her in my hands again.

  Tate cruised past the finish line so hilariously slow that the crowd roared more than Madoc’s and my races put together. She brought the car to a stop as the swarms of spectators hovered around the car.

  Leaving the Boss in neutral and setting the e-brake, she leaned back and relaxed against the seat.

  “Thank you, Jared.” Her voice was almost a whisper, sweet and sincere. “Thank you for asking me to do this.”

  My throat tightened.

  She reached up and unhooked the necklace from my rearview mirror and slipped it around her slender neck. Her face was thoughtful but comfortable.

  The air turned warm, and it was just us.

  Tate and Jared.

  I combed my hand through my hair, shaking off the déjà vu feeling and opened my door to the cheering crowd.

  I stopped and looked down to the floor. “Waking the demon…” I murmured. I don’t know why I picked that song to race to, but it just occurred to me how it fit.

  “Thank you, Tate,” I whispered, looking over at her.

  “Tatum” didn’t fit. It never did, really.

  She was Tate and always would be.

  “So are you two friends yet?” A very drunk Madoc hooked his arm around my neck at the bonfire after the race.

  I knew who he was talking about.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” I took a sip of my warm beer and kept my eyes forward.

  Tate and I had exchanged pleasantries when I arrived, but I knew I’d have to talk to her again tonight.

  I was bound and determined to get that necklace back. I had to see my father tomorrow.

  “I’m sure it’ll work out,” he sighed nonchalantly. “Now that she’s got a boyfriend, I think you’ll both move on to more interesting pastimes than hating each other.”

  The cup cracked in my hand. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

  “She will,” he spat back, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “He’s going to try to put his hands on her tonight.”

  No.

  Tate and Ben weren’t together tonight as friends. I knew that. But Madoc saying it out loud made my stomach burn with rage.

  “You see all those guys?” He jerked his chin and waved his hand to the group that Tate and Ben were chatting with. “They all want to put their hands up her skirt. You know that, right?”

  Just breathe.

  “And sooner or later,” Madoc continued, “she’s going to let one of them.”

  Damn him.

  I swallowed and relaxed my grip on the red plastic cup.

  Madoc walked away, having done the damage he came to do.

  I knew he was just trying to mess with my head, but he was right, and my race high drained out of my head in a steady stream.

  She would never forgive me.

  She had a future, and mine was questionable.

  But I looked over at Tate, who immediately glanced up at me across the fire, and it was like trying to walk away from the water that you knew you needed to live.

  There was no choice but to drink.

  Before I could get my head zoned into what the hell I was going to do next, I felt arms circle my neck.

  “God, I’ve missed you.” A sweet-smelling body pressed against me and soft, moist lips groaned against my neck.

  Piper.

  I calmly unwrapped her arms. “I hear you’ve kept busy with Nate Dietrich,” I challenged, but I didn’t care.

  She came around to face me. “We went out a couple of times. But I’m all about you,” she said, leaning in. “I even have a surprise for you.”

  “And what is that?” I humored her.

  “Oh, goodie.” She clapped her hands together. “You’re interested.”

  “Do you see that girl over there?” She pointed across the bonfire to a redhead in short, black shorts and a fitted tank.

  “What about her?” I asked, not sure where this was going.

  “How about you, me, and her go back to your house?”

  What? I blinked, not sure if I’d heard her right.

  Did she just offer—

  “I’ve already worked it out. She’s game. We can all play, or…” she lowered her voice, “you can watch.”

  I closed my eyes and ran my hand down my face.

  Jesus Christ. A fucking threesome. Was she serious?

  My heart jumped, and I felt my jaw twitch with a nervous smile I didn’t let out.

  A threesome was something I hadn’t done yet, and what guy wouldn’t want that?

  An image of myself in bed with two girls flashed in my mind, and my stomach dropped when both girls looked like Tate.

  I looked at Piper and then to the girl across the area, who was sexy as hell and giving me her “fuck me” eyes, and I wanted to punch something.

  I looked to the ground, blinking with the realization that I didn’t want what they were offering.

  In fact, I kind of felt like taking a bath thinking about it.

  Christ.

  I was going to hate myself for this someday.

  I pulled Piper’s hands off me again. “Stop.” And I backed away.

  “What?” she blurted out, her tone surprised and her eyes pissed.

  I shook my head. “Just get home safely, okay?” And I walked away.

  “Fucking enough,” I mumbled. And I went off in search of Tate.

  I didn’t care if she was Ben’s date.

  She was leaving with me.

  I trudged through the dirt and wet leaves, keeping my ears peeled for any sound. After I’d run into a tipsy Ben—who admitted he’d lost his date—I’d darted into the woods, towards the parking lot, looking for Tate.

  She wasn’t around the bonfire, and it’s not like she had many friends there.

  Or anywhere, dickhead.

  A loud, guttural moan echoed in the woods, and I twisted my head towards the wail.

  What? Shit.

  I started running, jumping over logs with my heart pounding so hard that it hurt to breath.

  “Why are the guys at our school such dicks?” I heard a voice growl.

  Tate.

  I turned left and bounded through a mess of fallen branches and wet foliage.

  “Shit!” I heard a male voice spout. “You fucking bitch!”

  I peeled through the trees and came into a clearing of fallen trees and sawed off tree trunks. My chest heaved with every hard breath as I took in the scene before me.

  Tate stood over the crumpled mess of Nate Dietrich as he lay in visible agony on the ground. He had one hand covering his eyes and one holding his crotch.

  Motherfucker.

  “Tatum!” I barked, more out of the sting of fear than the heat of anger.

  If she’d attacked him, it was because she’d been threatened.

  He’s dead.

  She spun around, and I struggled to keep myself in check. Nate was already subdued, but I caught sight of her ripped tank top strap, and every muscle tensed.

  “Did he hurt you?” I asked through nearly clenched teeth.

  She placed a hand over her shoulder and torn shirt. “He tried. I’m fine.” She would barely look at me.

  I slipped off my shirt and tossed it to her.

  “Put this on,” I ordered. “Now.”

  She didn’t rush to obey, not that I had expected her to, but my temper was up and God help her if she didn’t do what she was told.

  Alone, in the woods. In the dark.

  I wanted to throttle her for being so careless.

  I walked to Nate, who still lay on the ground. “You have a poor, fucking memory, Dietrich. What did I tell you?” I bent down and got in his face.

  My warning to him that day in class clearly hadn’t sunk in.

  I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and hauled him up before slamming my fist into his stomach. He caved, hunching over, as all of the air was forced out of his body.

>   And I didn’t stop.

  I punched and slammed, hit and gutted Nate Dietrich, pounding on his body and face until he was too done to do anything but take the abuse.

  The ache in my hand vibrated through my bones and traveled up my arm as the full force of my temper descended on him.

  Lowlife piece of shit!

  He was bad news, but I wasn’t, I kept telling myself. There was a difference between Nate and me.

  Nate had touched her.

  I’d never done that.

  He’d sexually harassed her.

  My locker room thing was just to mess with her.

  She’d told him time after time to stop.

  I’d seen her cry, wanting me to stop.

  And the more I hit Nate, the more I didn’t see his face anymore, but my own.

  “Stop.” I heard Tate yell behind me. “Jared, stop!”

  I didn’t want to stop until he was done breathing, but I was getting Tate the hell out of here. Now.

  I yanked Nate by the bend of his elbow and threw him to the ground. “This isn’t over,” I promised, not feeling the slightest bit guilty about his bloodied eye, nose, and mouth. Blood lined the inside of his lips, and he lay crumpled on the ground, panting and groaning.

  I looked over to Tate, whose eyes looked scared and chest rose and fell in fear.

  A fear she didn’t have when I first found her here.

  “I’m taking you home.” It wasn’t open for discussion.

  “No thanks. I have a ride,” she argued, tipping her chin up.

  She has a ride? I wanted to laugh and growl at the same time.

  God, I was going to enjoy shutting her up.

  “Your ride,” I turned to look at her, “is drunk. Now, unless you’d like to wake up your poor grandmother to come out into the middle of nowhere to get you after your date gets drunk, and you almost get raped—which I’m sure will do wonders for your father trusting you to be alone, by the way—then you’ll get in the goddamn car, Tate.”

  I turned to walk towards my car, fully prepared to throw her over my shoulder if I had to.

  “What’s your problem?” she blurted out as soon as we were racing down the highway, headed back to town.

  “My problem?” I was pissed, and she could tell. “You come to the bonfire with that idiot Ben Jamison, who can’t stay sober enough to drive you home, and then you traipse off into the woods, in the dark, and get groped by Dietrich. Maybe you’re the one with the problem.”

  Reel it in, asshole.

  When I thought about what Nate could’ve done to her—would’ve done to her—I wanted to kill. Tate was too headstrong. Too independent.

  She misjudged her own capabilities and put herself in danger.

  “If you recall, I had the situation under control,” she sneered. “Whatever favor you think you were doing me only satisfied your own anger. Leave me out of it.”

  I sucked in my cheeks, breathing in the thick air and zoning in on the road.

  The car roared under me, propelling us faster as my hands strangled the steering wheel.

  “Slow down,” she commanded, but I ignored her.

  “There’s going to be situations you can’t handle, Tate.” I was trying to reason with her, but even I didn’t know where I was going with this. She couldn’t exist in the closed box I’d created for the rest of her life, and I couldn’t protect her from everything. Sooner or later, she’d leave.

  “Nate Dietrich wasn’t going to take too kindly to what you did to him tonight,” I continued. “Did you think that was going to be the end of it? He would’ve come after you again. Do you know how badly Madoc wanted to do something after you broke his nose? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he wanted to retaliate.”

  She overestimated herself. Some guys didn’t care about victimizing women.

  Obviously.

  “You need to slow down.”

  “No, I don’t think so, Tate,” I laughed out. “You wanted the full high school experience, didn’t you? Football player boyfriend, casual sex, reckless behavior?”

  So I switched off my headlights before she got a chance to respond.

  The road before us went black, and Tate let out a small gasp as she pressed herself back in the seat.

  The adrenaline of fear and excitement shot through my veins. It was the type of feeling I had lived for while she was away. It made me feel alive.

  The dull, pathetic light from the moon poured in through the trees, but it illuminated very little.

  “Jared, stop it. Turn on the lights!” Her voice cracked, and she was scared. I wasn’t looking at her, but I could still see her, and she was bracing for a crash with one hand on the dashboard.

  “Jared, stop the car now!” she pleaded, and I hated the sound. “Please!”

  “Why? This isn’t fun?” I goaded and already knew the answer. “Do you know how many squealing airheads I’ve had sitting in that seat? They loved it.”

  And you’re different.

  “Stop. The. Car!” she screamed.

  “You know why you don’t like this?” I turned my head to look at her with quick glances back to the invisible road. “Because you’re not like them, Tate. You never were. Why do you think I kept everyone away from you?”

  I immediately slammed my mouth shut and groaned.

  Why the fuck did I just say that?

  Her eyes went wide and then narrowed like bullets.

  Here we go. In 3-2-1…

  “Stop the fucking car!” she screamed as she slammed her fists against her thighs and then hit me on the arm.

  I flinched and slammed on the brakes, gritting my teeth at the hundreds of dollars’ worth of tires I’d just left on the highway.

  The Boss came to a screeching halt, swaying slightly from side to side as I worked the wheel to keep us from flying off into the brush.

  Goddammit.

  I down-shifted, ripped the e-brake and turned off the car.

  Tate opened her door and flew out of her seat, and so did I, ready to go after her if she decided walking home was a smart idea.

  But she didn’t run.

  She looked about ready to hit me. I could feel the heat of the hellfire and hatred coming from her eyes.

  “Get back in the car.” I cut her off before she had a chance to speak.

  We were in the middle of the road, and another car could come at any time.

  “You could’ve killed us!” she cried.

  I would never put you in danger.

  My shirt fell off her bare shoulder, and I saw the ripped strap of her shirt peeking out.

  I slammed my palm down on the roof of the car, rage and love at battle in my head. “Get back in the goddamn car!” I shouted.

  “Why?” she asked, her voice low and cracking.

  Was she serious?

  “Because you need to go home.” Duh.

  “No.” She shook her head, choking back tears and breaking my heart. “Why did you keep everyone away from me?”

  “Because you didn’t belong with the rest of us. You still don’t,” I shot back.

  She was better.

  But apparently, she didn’t like that answer.

  Before I could stop her, she’d ducked inside of my car and snatched my keys out of the ignition.

  I watched, in confusion, as she rounded her open car door and jogged up the road, near the rocky ditch off to the side.

  My keys. What the hell?

  My fingers itched to shake her or kiss her.

  I approached her slowly, partly annoyed and partly in awe of the fight in her.

  She was beautiful. Strands of hair fell across her eyes and small pieces blew around her face from either the wind or her heavy breathing. Seeing the angry passion on her face built me up the same way bullying her had done.

  And when I thought of how I could’ve felt all of this by simply being close to her rather than hurting her, I was planted—no, stuck—to the ground by the weight of wasted time.

  It s
at like a boulder in my stomach.

  “What are you doing?” I tried to appear aggravated.

  “One more step, and you’re losing one of your keys. Not sure if it’s the car key, but eventually I’ll get to that one.” She cocked her arm behind her head, and I halted.

  Fuuuuuck.

  “I’m not getting in your car.” Her voice was even and strong. “And I’m not letting you leave. We’re not moving from this spot until you’ve told me the truth.”

  The air around me got dense, and I felt like I was in a cave. Walls everywhere.

  I couldn’t tell her everything.

  I could apologize. I could try to explain.

  But I couldn’t tell—

  Shit! She raised her arm farther, loading it to toss the first key, and my hand shot out, motioning for her to stop.

  A replacement key would be at least two hundred dollars.

  My heart beat faster, echoing in my ears.

  “Tate, don’t do this.”

  “Not the answer I was looking for,” she shot back and flung a key into the woods off the side of the road. I watched, completely helpless, as it disappeared into the thick darkness.

  “Dammit, Tate!”

  She released another key from the ring and loaded it behind her back, too. “Now, talk. Why do you hate me?”

  Jesus. The key was gone. Maybe the one to my car. Maybe just the house key. And fuck me if it was the one to the school.

  I shook my head and almost laughed. “Hate you? I never hated you.”

  Her eyes narrowed in confusion, and her voice dropped. “Then why? Why did you do all the things you’ve done?”

  Why was I so mean? Why did I isolate you? Why did I ruin our friendship? Which horrible fucking shit did she want explained first?

  “Freshman year.” I took a deep breath and started. “I overheard Danny Stewart saying he was going to ask you to the Halloween dance. I made sure he never did, because he also told his buddies that he couldn’t wait to find out if your tits were more than a handful each.”

  I also gave him a bloody nose that day. He still doesn’t know why.

  “I didn’t even think twice about my actions,” I continued as she remained silent. “I spread that rumor about Stevie Stoddard, because you didn’t belong with Danny. He was a dick. They all were.”

  “So you thought you were protecting me?” she blurted out, unconvinced. “But why would you do that? You already hated me by that point. That was after you’d returned from your dad’s for the summer.”