“I’m getting a do-over tonight,” I say, grinning.
“For what? Getting beat at the arcade? Or kissing?”
“Both.” I take her hand into mine and lace our fingers. “Can we hang out today after school?”
“That depends. Are you going to make me sit outside in a rainstorm?”
I laugh. “No. I was thinking we could go to my house and work on the cooking part of our project.”
Her face pales.
She doesn’t need to say anything for me to know the scenarios that are running through her mind. They’ve crossed mine, too. “Don’t worry. My dad will be home.”
“Oh. Okay.” She nods. “Sure.”
“See you later.” With a chaste kiss to her lips, I force myself to go to class. I can’t wipe the smile from my face as I race down the hallway and rush into the room seconds before the final bell rings.
“So.” Vick grins and nods at me with all the arrogance of a guy who knows something no one else does. “You and Isabelle, huh?”
I playfully punch his arm.
“Do you two always go at each other like that?” he whispers.
Miss Keaton writes an assignment on the white board. “This is due by the end of class.” She points to what she wrote. “I don’t care if you want to work with a partner, but let’s keep the noise level to a minimum, okay?” Her normally soft voice is nasal, like she’s sick, and there are bags under her eyes.
“Not always,” I say, flipping open my history book. I’m sorry Miss Keaton is sick, but I’m glad I don’t have to listen to her talk for fifty-five minutes. I honestly don’t think I can sit still that long.
“I haven’t seen her act like that since before… her brother died,” Vick says.
I glance at him, confused. “Act like what?”
He shrugs. “Confident. Strong. Fun. She really held her ground with you. I didn’t know she still had it in her, but it’s good to see her like that again.”
“Yeah, well, I think there’s a lot about her that you don’t know.” I read over the first question and groan. Essay questions? I don’t have the focus for this.
Thankfully, Vick doesn’t say anything else, and I spend the period writing what are probably weak answers to the questions, but by the time the bell rings, I’m done. I drop my paper on Miss Keaton’s desk and walk into the hallway.
“Hey, did you ask Isabelle why she bailed on my Labor Day party?” Vick asks as he falls into step beside me.
“No. Want me to?”
“Nah, I was just wondering.”
“Okay.” Then why did he even bring it up? He can be weird at times. I wave to Vick and veer off toward my locker. When I get there, Isabelle is waiting for me. My heart races at the sight of her. “Hey.”
She steps to the side so I can get to my locker. “I’m driving my car to your house today.”
“What’s wrong? Don’t like my motorcycle?”
“Your motorcycle is fine. It’s your driving that terrifies me.”
“Hey now,” I say with fake offense. “My driving is fantastic.”
“If you say so.” She hugs her books to her chest.
I switch out my books, close my locker, and face her. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are bright. She is so beautiful, and I thank God for creating her and putting her in my life. “Belle?”
“Yeah?” Her voice is breathless.
I slide my hand along the side of her neck, holding her so she can’t look away. “I want to make sure there’s absolutely no confusion about what’s going on here.”
She narrows her eyes but doesn’t speak.
Taking a deep breath, I lick my lips, suddenly worried that maybe I’m misreading the situation between us. But I’ll never know unless I say something. Here goes nothing. “I don’t just want to hang out and work on our project and go to homecoming. I want to be the only guy you kiss and hold hands with and yell at. I want to be your boyfriend, Isabelle.”
Her expression remains stoic for a moment too long, and I worry our relationship will be over before it ever begins. But then she breaks into a breathtaking smile. “I think I can manage that. On one condition.”
My heart stops. “What’s that?”
“You don’t ever call me Isabelle again.” She pats my chest. “To you, I’m just Belle, okay?”
I sigh with relief. “Okay.” Taking her hand from my chest, I place a kiss on her palm before lacing our fingers and heading down the hall with her. When I first met her, she was adamant that I didn’t call her Belle, and now that’s all she wants. I wonder why. Then I remember what Cam said during lunch…
“Why?” I ask.
“What?”
“Why can I only call you Belle?” I squeeze her hand gently, hoping she knows I’m not looking to start a fight. “Everyone else calls you Isabelle.”
She keeps her gaze on her feet. “I like the way you say it.”
I can’t shake the feeling there’s more to it than that. We stop outside the door to her next class, and I tug her a little closer. “Is that all?” I ask softly.
She sighs. “My brother is the only person who ever called me Belle. When he died, I couldn’t stand to hear it, but I don’t know. Hearing you say it…” She pauses. “It just sounds right. When I’m with you and you call me Belle, I feel like I’m that girl again. The girl I was before he died. And I really liked who I was back then.”
I press my lips to her forehead in a tender kiss, and her eyes flutter closed. I don’t know how to feel about what she just told me. Sad that she’s been living a lie for the past few months? Or honored that she trusts me enough to use a name that’s so precious to her?
Reluctantly, I pull back and stare into her eyes. “Okay.” I brush a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “I’ll call you Belle.”
“Thank you.”
“But I have a condition, too.”
She raises a brow. “What?” she says slowly.
“You have to give me a do-over at the arcade.”
Belle flings her head back and laughs. “You really need to get over that. I beat you. Deal with it.”
“You cheated.”
She takes a small step closer, putting us chest to chest, a teasing grin pulling at her mouth. “Prove it.”
I can’t stop the loud laugh that escapes me, and I shake my head. This girl is going to make me crazy, and I love it! The bell rings to alert us that it’s time for our last class of the day. “Meet you at your locker after class and we’ll head to my house?”
She nods. “Yup.”
I stare after her as she walks away, and I once again wonder how I’m lucky enough to have her in my life. But it’s not luck. It’s God. He gave me Isabelle—Belle, and for the first time in years, I want to give my life to Him again, to openly praise Him like I used to. I turn to head to my class when I catch Cam glaring at me. If looks could kill… I give him a pleasant smile and walk by him, which causes him to glare harder.
Maybe he’s finally starting to realize what he lost when he broke up with Belle. Unfortunately for him, it’s too late. Belle’s with me now, and I’m not going to do anything to mess this up.
When I get into class, I send Dad a quick message to ask if Belle can come over. I know he won’t care, but I don’t want to surprise him, either. Who knows what he’ll be doing when I get home. Maybe if he knows I’m having company he won’t do anything that will require another trip to the ER.
Dad: this the girl from the pizza place?
It’s not like I’ve mentioned any other girls to him, and even if I had, does it matter? yes. I hit send just in time for the teacher to give me a stern look. I shove my phone into my pocket and spend most of the class staring at the clock, willing time to go faster.
23
ISABELLE
BUTTERFLIES FILL MY STOMACH AS I walk inside Grayson’s house. It’s not like I haven’t met his father before, but this is different. I’m in his house.
“Dad, we�
��re home,” Grayson calls. He swings the door shut, and the sound of it closing makes me jump. “Relax.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
Grayson’s dad appears from the hallway. “Hey, Grays,” he says, and I can’t help but smile at the nickname. He nods at me. “Isabelle.”
“Hello, Mr. Alexander,” I say.
“We’re going to work on our Spanish project,” Grayson says, tugging on my hand.
I follow him into the kitchen where there’s a square, four-person table situated in front of a large window. Grayson flops his backpack on top of the table and walks to the fridge. “Want something to drink?”
“Um, water’s fine.” I pull out a chair and sit. My nerves are still on edge, and I try to distract myself by looking around. There are no decorations anywhere on the walls—nothing stuck to the front of the refrigerator, no piles of papers lying around—the counters are spotless. Either Mr. Alexander is an excellent housekeeper, or they haven’t finished settling in.
Grayson places a bottle of water in front of me and then sits in the chair beside me. “You’re nervous.”
“A little.”
“Why?”
I stare at him incredulously. “Seriously? It’s been a big day. Got a new boyfriend. And now I’m hanging out at his house. With his dad. You’d be nervous, too, if you were at my house with my parents.”
“Probably.” He places his hand over mine on the table and caresses my knuckles. Immediate goose bumps spread like wildfire up my arms. “But my dad is cool, so please relax, okay?”
I nod. At least his dad isn’t hovering—that makes being here slightly less awkward.
“I’m going to go grab my laptop from my room. We can search for recipes that are unique to our city and decide what we want to try to cook.” He leaves me alone in the kitchen.
I open my water and take a sip. It’s so cold it stings my throat when I swallow. Scooting my chair closer to the table, I move my bag to the empty seat next to me and dig out my cell phone. There’s no message from my mom or dad asking where I am—they never care enough to ask anymore. I should’ve gone home first to check on Mom, but she’s probably just passed out again.
A moment later, Grayson returns with his laptop. He sets it on the table and reclaims his seat, moving it closer to me. “So, do you have any secret cooking skills I don’t know about?”
“I know how to cook easy stuff.”
He opens his browser and types in “food unique to Santo Domingo.” Pages upon pages of results pop up, and we begin the arduous process of clicking through them.
“Oh, that looks good.” I point to a picture of pollo guisado. “You like chicken, right?”
“Love it,” he says as he clicks on the name. The recipe pops up, and we take a moment to read it. “Doesn’t sound too hard.”
His leg brushes against mine under the table, and my heart jackhammers in my chest. I force in a deep breath and hold still, not wanting him to move his leg. And he doesn’t. But he does drape his arm across the back of my chair. I wait for the feel of his hand on my shoulder or his fingers in my hair—he doesn’t do either, though, and I try to hide my disappointment by staring at the laptop and pretending to be absorbed in the website.
“So, what do you think?” he asks.
I turn to look at him, and he’s staring at me, his green eyes twinkling. Our faces are inches apart, and there’s suddenly a lump in my throat.
“About the recipe?” I ask, my words catching.
“Mm-hmm.” The sound of his throaty hum sends a shiver up my spine. He moves his hand from the chair and massages the back of my neck.
I close my eyes. My heart threatens to burst from my chest, so I take a calming breath and reopen my eyes. Grayson’s fingers stop moving and cup the back of my neck. He draws me closer until his lips brush mine. I let out a soft sigh, close my eyes again, and welcome his kiss as I awkwardly wrap my arms around him.
And then I remember his father is in the next room. I pull away with a gasp. “Your dad,” I whisper, eyes wide.
Grayson chuckles. “He’s outside.”
“He is?”
He nods. “I heard him go out.” He hasn’t let go of my neck—not that I’m complaining—and his gaze drops to my mouth.
I nervously lick my lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss him again. But I really don’t want his father to walk in and catch us, so I remove his hold on my neck and lace our fingers. “Did he leave?”
“No, he’s probably just sitting on the porch.” He rubs his thumb across my knuckles, and another shiver wiggles up my spine. What is it about Grayson Alexander that makes me react this way?
“Okay, so, we’ll do this recipe, then? We should print this out. Or I can write it down, if you want.” I release his hand and reach for my backpack when he stops me.
“Belle?”
And now the flutters start, too. I’m such a mess around him. “Yeah?”
“Does kissing me make you uncomfortable?”
“What? No.” I shake my head.
He lifts a brow, pinning me with a look of utter disbelief.
“I like kissing you,” I say. “A lot.” I emphasize that harder than necessary.
Grayson grins.
I do my best to ignore how adorably arrogant he looks right now. “That’s what makes me uncomfortable.”
He tilts his head, his confusion deepening. “So… you like it and that’s what you don’t like about it?”
I laugh at how ridiculous that sounds. “Yes. I mean, no. I worry because I like it too much, and I'm afraid it will lead to… other things.” My face flames with embarrassment. “Things I’m not ready for.”
“Right.” He nods with understanding. “Well, I’m saving myself for marriage, so…” He shrugs a shoulder.
“Seriously? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“I’m serious.” There’s no trace of humor in his tone or expression, and I relax in my chair. “I was raised with the same beliefs as you, remember?”
“Yeah.” But I do forget, probably because he doesn’t actively talk about his beliefs, and I’ve never seen him pray. And then there’s the whole church thing. “I quit church,” I blurt.
His brows spike up to his hairline. “You what?”
I lower my head and fidget with my hands. “I quit my church.”
“Why?” he asks slowly.
“Because of how they acted last week.”
“Wait.” He stands and paces away before returning and clutching the back of his now empty chair. “You quit going to church because of me? Do you realize how messed up that is?”
I whip around and glare at him. Is he really standing there judging me? “No, Grayson. I didn’t quit because of you. I quit because the people I thought I knew behaved in a way I can’t support. And when I talked to Pastor Jeff about it, he pretty much blew me off and told me I could leave.”
Grayson is silent for far too long, and then, with a shake of his head, he walks out of the kitchen. I follow, mostly because I don’t want to stand in the middle of his kitchen alone, but also because I want to know what he’s thinking. He flops down on the couch, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.
“You can’t seriously be mad at me about this,” I say.
“I’m not mad.” He looks up at me, and his expression is bordering on torment. “I’m angry, Belle, and disappointed. I never should have gone to church with you.”
“Are you giving me an “I told you so” right now?” My arms hang at my sides, and I tilt my head.
“No.” He sighs and pats the couch cushion.
I sit so we’re shoulder to shoulder. The warmth and nearness of him calms my nerves a bit.
“I’m sorry, Belle.” He turns to look at me. “I just never wanted you to experience what I have. So, I’m sorry that I went with you and that you lost faith in your church.”
I slip my arm around his and rest my head on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault.” I was the one who
insisted he go; I never thought he’d be right about what would happen.
“No, but still. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. It’s not fair.”
“Tell me what happened,” I say softly. “With your mom and your church.” I hold my breath, praying he doesn’t get mad at me for asking. I’m such a hypocrite, asking him to tell me about something so personal and hurtful when I’m lying about… everything.
He leans back, taking me with him, and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I curl up against him, content to stay here, just like this, all night. “I told you she was cheating on my dad, right?”
I nod.
“Well, after the fire, when we found out she was in the room with our pastor, the rumors started to fly. Everything from she was a prostitute and the pastor was only there to help her, to my dad was abusive and the pastor was helping her flee.” He shakes his head with disgust. “He died a saint, and her reputation was trashed. The entire congregation shunned us, so we stopped going to church altogether.”
“I’m so sorry, Grayson.” I drape my arm across his stomach.
“The whole thing was a nightmare, but I never lost my faith in God. Just in church.” He drags his free hand up my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his path. “Please don’t make the same mistake, Belle. You can’t quit church completely.”
“I know.” But how can I explain how messed up things are without telling him about the rest of my dysfunctional life? “I’m not sure I can handle going back to that church, though. With Cam and Andrea and his parents…” Just the thought of it makes my stomach clench.
Grayson presses a kiss to my forehead, and I close my eyes. He’s much too sweet, and I don’t deserve him, not when my life is a disaster, and I’m such a hot mess. “We can always try out a new church. There are a lot of them in this town.”
“Really?” I tilt my head back so I can see his face without moving from my position. “We?”
“Yes, we.”
“I’d like that.”
“Me too.” He leans down and captures my lips in a tender kiss that’s quickly interrupted when the front door opens and his father walks in.
I jerk back and sit up straight. Grayson laughs, and I elbow him.
Perfectly Imperfect Page 16
