by K. Webster
“Penny—”
“Stop touching me!” I yell, shoving him as a ball of emotion forms in my throat.
His eyes flash with hurt as though I’ve wounded him. This makes the tension in my stomach tighten further. I like Terrence. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. But he doesn’t understand what it’s like to be me. He wants to talk because we’re the same? We’re not even on the same plane of existence.
Terrence is normal. Perfect, even with his uneven head, drooping eye, and plentiful scars.
And I’m the definition of imperfect.
Broken and flawed and barely functioning.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low and quiet, something I greatly appreciate. “I know you don’t like to be touched. I shouldn’t have touched you.”
My shoulders still burn from his hot, strong touch, yet I don’t hate the feeling. A mind at war with a body. Nerve endings flared to life at his touch and shot lasers of heat to foreign parts of me. It’s my brain that hates the idea. Not him. Everyone.
I’m alone in this madness.
“At least call me and let me know you made it home safely,” he pleads. “I don’t like the idea of you driving at night in the snow.”
I shove my hand into my pocket to retrieve my phone. “Put your number in,” I bark out harshly. “I’ll text you.”
He grins, his expression one of relief. “Thank you.”
I try not to stare at him as the phone lights up his face. Something about him makes my eyes keep wandering his way. Like he’s a magnet and I’m drawn to his face. I don’t like it. I don’t like strange feelings like this. I’m so used to being bothered by everyone because they won’t shut the fuck up that this is confusing for me.
And that’s just his face.
His body is also one you can’t help but look at. Thick neck with prominent Adam’s apple that moves when he laughs and swallows. Broad shoulders sculpted with muscles that strain against his hoodie fabric. Biceps that seem to bulge as he types on my phone.
The phone that’s four inches from his face.
“Why are you holding it so close?” I demand.
“So I can see it, mean-ass.” His sharp jaw clenches and I know I’ve hit a nerve.
“Get some glasses.” I snatch my phone from him to read his contact info. “Smash, huh?”
“I like it better than ugly.”
My stomach twists painfully at his words. Why am I this way? I don’t understand how to be soft like Charlotte or Hollis. I’m jagged and sharp. I tear things, even when I don’t want to.
“You’re still a dent head, Smash.”
“And you’re still Satan. Text me later.”
He steps forward like he wants to hug me but then thinks better of it. With a quick nod of his head, he limps back into the cabin, clicking the door quietly closed behind him. My heart throbs at the cold emptiness that seems to linger in the air around me.
I realize, for the first time, I miss a sound.
The sound of his voice.
Something’s happening to me.
Terrence
I stare down at my phone in shock. It’s been three days since I last spoke to Penny, so I’m surprised to see a text from her. The one and only other time she texted was to tell me she was home.
Penny: I have a lead.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I try to make sense of what she could possibly mean. Several guys at the gym eye me with pity in their eyes as they walk by. I hate that shit. Sure, I look like a fucking joke with my scars and shit, but I’m not some broken, weak man. I’m here at the gym with them benching every bit as much as them.
Me: For?
Penny: I know you broke your head but come on. Your baby momma, Smash.
My spine stiffens.
Me: What is it? Tell me.
Penny: I got an address.
Me: You asked your dad?
She sends me about forty eye roll emojis.
Penny: No, dummy. I went to “visit Roux and Emilia” and stopped by Dad’s office. Since Bonnie was out to lunch, I took it upon myself to rummage through her files. I got the goods. Where am I picking you up?
I groan as my eyes search out the guys. The other three Hoodlums plus Hollis are running on the treadmill. Since that shit hurts my leg and my head for that matter, I told them I’d stay at the dumbbells.
Me: The gym on Fourth Street. I need twenty minutes to shower.
Penny: I’ll be waiting out front. Bright orange Jeep. Your blind ass can’t miss it.
It’s my turn to shoot off a bunch of eye roll emojis.
Me: See you in twenty, mean-ass.
I grab my bag and walk over to where the guys are. They’re all running as hard as they can like they’re in a race against each other. Since Cal has the longest legs, he’s the least winded.
“I’m gonna grab a shower and bail,” I say to Cal.
“Dude, you rode with me,” Cal reminds me, his breathing labored from exertion.
“Change of plans. Penny’s picking me up.”
Like they’re fucking twins, Hollis and Roan both smash the stop button on their machines, fiery eyes directed my way.
Whoa. What the fuck?
“Penny?” Hollis demands, his blue eyes flashing. “Why?”
Jordy smirks at me while Cal laughs his stupid ass off. Roan scowls, his arms crossing over his massive chest.
Fuck these fuckers.
“What?” I demand.
“She’s a kid,” Hollis bites out.
Roan nods, his eyes narrowed.
“Fuck all of y’all,” I snarl, shaking my head. “It’s not like that and you fucking know it.”
Cal hits the button on his machine and hops off. “Cut him some slack. Even if he did want into that psycho’s pants, do you think she’d actually let him?”
Jordy laughs, earning scowls from Hollis and Roan.
“What?” Jordy says. “Cal’s right. I’m pretty sure Penny is asexual or whatever the fuck it is when you don’t care about anyone or anything.”
“It’s called being a bitch,” Cal offers unhelpfully.
“Shut up,” I warn, pinning him with a glare. “Penny’s not a bitch.”
Roan and Hollis chuckle.
“She kind of is,” Roan says.
“You’re a bitch,” I bite out, shoving Roan’s shoulder. “You’re all bitches.”
They all crack up, amused at my irritation.
“All right,” Cal says, smacking me on the back. “Get out of here. I’ll see you at home later.”
I flip the guys my middle finger, earning more laughter. “Idiots.”
“You love us,” Roan calls out.
Smirking, I head to the showers. I’m in and out quickly. Once I’m dressed, I head out of the gym, grateful to see Penny is already waiting in her obnoxious orange Jeep. I fling open the door, toss my bag into the back, and then climb into the passenger seat. I expect to be assaulted by teeny-bopper music, but instead, I notice the stereo is turned off. I’m thankful because I feel the slight teasing of a migraine coming on.
“What’s up?” I say in greeting, reaching forward to turn the vents on me since it’s cold as fuck outside.
“The sky.” She lifts a brow at me. “What’s wrong?”
I frown, shrugging. “Headache.”
“You have medicine for it?”
“In my bag.”
She thumps me in the arm. “So take it.”
“I have to eat first,” I grumble, rubbing the sore spot. “I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t need you wussing out on me,” she says as she peels out, fishtailing in the parking lot. “We’ll grab food and then shake down that fucker.”
“Hey, chill,” I grunt out. “You said you had an address. You didn’t say shit about shaking down Jack. What the fuck does that even mean anyway? Shaking down?”
“You let me do the talking. You can be the muscle. It means we get in his face and demand answers. I looked the dude up on social medi
a. He’s like Jace and Dad’s age minus the muscle plus a slight beer belly. We can take him.”
“I’m not looking to get my ass arrested, Penny.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” She takes a turn sharply, nearly sending me flying into her seat.
“Who taught you how to drive?” I snap. “Cal?”
“Stop talking.”
This girl is so fucking infuriating sometimes. My head hurts and she’s pissing me off. I scowl, glaring out the window as I hold on for dear life. Finally, she whips into a fast food parking lot, headed for the drive-through.
“Want to go inside? Make a plan first?” I ask, staring at her profile.
She winces, shaking her head hard enough her blond ponytail swishes from side to side. “Nope. We can eat in the car.” She cuts her blazing blue eyes my way. “So long as you don’t smack when you chew.” Disgust has her lip curling up.
“You’re a strange one, English.”
My words make her frown, which makes me wish I could reel them back in. Unfortunately, when my head fucking hurts, it’s harder to be nice. I choose silence instead. We reach the intercom and before I can open my mouth to tell her what I want, she orders for me.
This goddamn girl…
It’s then I realize she ordered my burger just the way I like it. Light mustard, no onions, three pickles. Not two. Two pickles don’t make it tangy enough. Three is exactly right. She even says those precise words to the person on the intercom, threatening she’ll return it if they don’t add that third pickle on there.
The person over the intercom is annoyed by the sigh they give her, but Penny is unruffled. She pulls up to the window and tosses money at the lady.
“I can pay for my own shit,” I grit out.
She makes a derisive snort. “This isn’t a date. It’s called convenience. Your bag is in the back. You pick up the tab next time.”
Now I feel stupid.
This girl makes me crazy.
The lady hands her our drinks and then the bag. Penny refuses to leave until she’s checked over my burger, taking it upon herself to see if they’ve added that third pickle. Once she’s satisfied, she hands me the bag and peels out. We drive out of the parking lot and then end up in an abandoned church parking lot. It’s quiet, which I like.
Penny pulls out her AirPods and reaches for her phone. Once again, she turns on her white noise song and then pops the pods into her ears. Her hand sticks out impatiently, waiting for me to pass her her food.
My eyes remain fixated on her as I give her the burger and fries. She jolts when our fingertips touch, snatching her food back. I’m going to have to remember to ask Hollis what her deal is about not being touched.
But then he’d want to know why I want to know that…
Yeah, not asking her older brother about that shit.
Not looking to get killed by Hollis any time soon.
I devour my burger and fries before downing half my Coke. Once I’m full and feeling marginally better, I reach into the back to locate my medicine in my bag. I take my pills and then relax in my seat with my eyes closed, waiting for her to finish.
When I feel her stare burning into me, I peek over at her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“How did you know what I wanted? You stalking me?” I arch a playful brow at her.
Her dark blond lashes that are makeup free flutter hard as she dramatically rolls her eyes. “Gross.”
I try to laugh off her comment, but it digs right in, finding the nerve that’s all too sensitive lately. I’m fucking terrible to look at. I know this. It’s why I avoid mirrors if at all possible.
“Hey, Smash,” Penny barks out. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I was saying your ego is gross, not your face.”
“But my face is…”
“Stop fishing for compliments.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’m not fishing.”
“You are. Stop talking.”
“You can’t just make me shut up—”
She leans over the console, her hand covering my mouth. I’m stunned over the fact she’s willingly touching me. What’s more confusing is the way her features seem softer than ever before. Our eyes collide, and for a moment, we’re frozen as we stare at each other. I almost feel as though she has the power to probe inside my mind, peeking in the dark corners and inspecting each cranny. All I can do is allow the mental assault.
It doesn’t feel bad.
No one’s bothered to come looking in the way she’s doing right now. My heart rate speeds up. I notice details about her. Like the single beauty mark on her slender, creamy neck. It’s a dark contrast on her pale skin and I grow fixated on it. The mark is directly over her pulsing vein, causing it to move with each throb.
With her up close, I catch her scent. A sweet smelling one. Not like Charlotte’s girly perfume that sometimes agitates my head. No, Penny smells like a flower after the rain. Fresh and clean and delicate. Not overpowering. I have an intense craving to lean forward, dragging my nose along the side of her neck to see if her beauty mark smells sweet too.
Something in the air shifts.
The quiet transforms into a living entity that threads between us, dragging emotions out of her head into mine and mine to hers.
I sense her confusion. Anger. Excitement. Fear.
I’m sure she can feel my pain, my wonder, my loneliness.
Slowly, she peels her palm from my mouth. “Your face is not gross.”
It’s not a compliment. Not even close. She says her words in such a Penny way. Harsh and blunt and borderline cruel. Yet, it still feels like praise.
“If you’re done creeping on me, let’s make a plan,” she says, her voice lacking its usual sass.
“It’s not creeping when you enjoy it.”
She scoffs. “I did not enjoy you staring inside my crazy-ass head.”
So she felt it too?
Like her mind was being penetrated by me?
“As you probably just realized,” I murmur. “I’m the crazy one here.”
No sense in denying the fact it felt like she was staring inside of me too.
Her eyes sweep over my face, landing on my mouth. “Hush.”
I nod at her, pressing my lips together. The last thing either of us needs is her trying to shut me up again. Next time, I might run my fingers through her silky blond hair or kiss that beauty mark on her neck.
She peels out of the empty parking lot, driving like a psycho. It’s just the reality check I need. What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s a damn teenager. I’m not some perv. It annoys me that I even considered kissing any part of her.
It’s Penny, for fuck’s sake.
Bratty, annoying, mean-ass Penny.
God sure did make her fucking pretty to mess with my head.
Maybe I never woke from that coma. Maybe this is hell. Penny as my very own little Satan… Not sure I exactly hate the idea.
Which means, maybe I’m not in hell at all, and instead going for a joy ride with a grumpy angel.
I glance over at her, admiring her beautiful features.
Fuck.
She’s definitely an angel.
An angel I’m suddenly all too smitten with.
I’m so fucked.
Penny
Something’s wrong with me.
I’m sick. More so than usual. It’s like all the strange things that go on inside my head are traveling. Making my chest feel tight or my stomach twist violently. My skin burns and my palms are sweaty. The most unusual feeling is in my pelvis. Aching. Throbbing. And I’m not even on my period anymore.
It’s Terrence.
Each time I’m around him, my body goes haywire.
I don’t like it. I don’t like him.
Liar.
Ignoring the quiet whisper in the back of my mind, I follow the instructions of my GPS. It’s on silent, but I glance at the roads and suggested turns as they approach. Once, I tried to keep the volume on, but it was so damn annoying, I
had to pull over and find the mute. I don’t understand how anyone can put up with that supposedly pleasing voice telling them where to go.
I pull into a crappy neighborhood, searching for the house number. Slowly, I drive past, trying to catch a peek.
“Is that it?” Terrence asks, leaning over the console to peer through my window.
“Yeah. I’m going to park a few houses down and we—”
“Not we,” he bites out. “Me. Dude’s an asshole. I don’t want you near him.”
Anger surges up inside me as I pull into someone else’s driveway to turn around. “I’m going.”
As soon as I pull to a stop, Terrence grips my wrist. The touch sends a jolt of electricity zapping through me, but it’s not unpleasant. I don’t pull from his hold.
“I’m going,” I say with a little more venom.
His mahogany eyes bore into me. “You’re not, Penny.”
“I—”
“Jesus Christ,” he snaps. “I said no. This guy gives me a bad feeling. I want to keep you safe.”
I gape at him. “Why? You’re not my brother or my keeper!”
His thumb strokes over my skin, causing my heart to skidder to a stop. “Please let me keep you safe.”
Unbelievable.
“No,” I grumble. “We’re doing this together or not at all.”
He’s pissed based on the way his nostrils flare like a bull ready to charge. “Goddammit, English.”
“Let’s go. Like I said, let me do the talking,” I tell him as I climb out.
He follows behind me, stomping through the snow like a bratty toddler. A smile tugs at my lips. It quickly melts away when we start up the driveway to this house. It’s in dire need of repair. The roof is sagging in areas and the siding is hanging off in some spots.
“You think anyone is here?” Terrence asks. “I don’t see any lights on.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” I mutter, carefully climbing the slippery concrete steps.
I knock on the door—three short raps—and then wait, actually welcoming any sounds for once. Footsteps approach and then the door creaks open. An older white woman with a sour expression answers the door.
“Can I help you?” she snaps.
“I’m here to see Zella.”
Terrence stiffens beside me. I realize he may not have even known her name. When I looked at the file earlier, I discovered her name is Zella Teejay Henderson.
