In the Bad Boy's Bed (11 page)

"Liar."

He spoke coldly, as if my hurtful words had simply bounced off his thick skin and not plunged into him. But I saw the small twitch at his eyes and knew the lies had gone deep. Into both of us.

"OK, you're right. I WAS happy until you came along and flipped my world on its side, constantly making me feel like I'm hanging on the edge of a cliff."

"Before I came along, what had you ever done that made your heart race a million miles a minute? Something that made every part of you feel alive? Getting a good deal on a pair of True Religion jeans doesn't count," he added.

"I don't have to answer . . . ."

"You don't need to, 'cause I already know the answer. Nothing. Until you met me, that is."

"What an ego! What makes you think you know everything, or anything, about me?"

"If you want to lie to me and to your friends and to everybody else, fine, but at least be honest with yourself. Lying about your true feelings for me is what's causing your pain and confusion, not the desire burning inside you when you think about me. You know how free you are when we're together. You don't hold back, you tell me exactly what you want, do exactly what you need to be happy."

"Having sex is setting myself free? That's a typical male solution if I've ever heard one." I turned away from him, but he grabbed my arm, pulled me back to face him.

"It's not sex, Angel. It's making love—with me. We bring out the best in each other.

Even though we don't know everything there is to know about each other, we're one person when we're together, whether we're making love, or talking, or hell, even arguing.

It's like we've been together forever. You know what I need and how to satisfy it and I know what you need and how to satisfy it. Apart, we're just two flawed people searching for something we'll never find. Together we're . . . together we're fucking perfect." At my silence, he added, "Tell me I'm wrong."

Because it would be futile for me to deny it, I didn't. "Yes, I like the way I feel when we're together, but it's only physical desire, and that isn't enough to base a relationship on.

I want it all, Nick—a relationship that's going somewhere, the commitment, the trust, the love, and the sex. And the future. You're only offering me sex."

He looked at me, chewing my words, digesting them. When he spoke, his voice carried a hard tone of disappointment. "I am offering you all those things, Angel, but let's be honest…those things wouldn't be enough for you, because they would be coming from me. I'm not what mommy and daddy had in mind for their princess. I won't be able to keep you in furs and diamonds or fly you to Paris on a whim. And if that's what you really want, then you're right--you'll be better off with someone else. All I can do is love you, cherish you, please you. Never leave you."

"Dammit, I was happy before you came into my world and . . . ."

". . . brought it to life?"

". . . disrupted it!"

He threw up his hands and turned his back to me. He stuck his hands in his hair and growled. When he turned back to me, his eyes were calm and sad.

"OK. Have it your way. Keep to your safe, little world. I guess if you don't expect much from life, you won't be disappointed in what little you get." He shook his head then pointed his finger at me. "The woman I'm in love with is bold, exciting, and fearless. She knows exactly what she wants and how to make it happen. You're right: I don't know who the hell you are . . . Angela . . . and neither do you."

He turned and raced across the field. Out of my dead, pitiful, sterile, so-called life.

It was then that his words hit me fully…the woman he's in love with. He loved me.

No. He loved Angel. I was Angela, the one who had just ripped out both our hearts and trampled them into pieces on the dying autumn grass. I had a deep sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.

It's said that the sweetest sound to a human is his or her own name. He had called me Angela. It was the saddest thing I had ever heard.

* * * * *

I stayed home from school for the next two days, sick to my soul from the way I'd discarded the guy I loved, the guy who loved me.

The day I went back, he and I arrived at our lockers at the same time. He glanced up, met my eyes. I held my breath. He immediately looked away, shut his locker, and headed my way. My heart soared like a kite on an up-drift, but he sailed past without saying a word, not even a nod hello. My heart swooped hard and dropped into a long nose dive.

I exhaled. I should have been relieved. He was honoring my request, my decision to stay away from him.

I knew we couldn't work. We ran in entirely different circles. My friends were from well-to-do families and were more into shopping, parties, and preparing to get into the best colleges, marriages, and organizations. I didn't even know whether he had any friends. My friends and family wouldn't understand my attraction for him anymore than his would accept his feelings for what they would call a preppy bitch.

But that reality didn't keep me from holding on to fantasies of our being together, having the courage to show the world our love, or keep my heart from breaking in two when he walked past me as if I were nothing to him.

Yeah, I should have been relieved, but what I was feeling was a cold, jagged pain that ran so deep inside me I could spit ice cubes.

I didn't have the luxury of wallowing for very long. Gena came up behind me and tossed her books into our shared locker.

"Hustle your buns, girlfriend. You can't be late for Spanish again."

"Yeah, I'm coming." I tossed my books on top of hers, slammed the metal door, and hurried off down the hall.

The days blurred after that. I'd see glimpses of Nick here and there, but for the most part, he faded into the sea of faces and buildings at school. The pain hadn't lessened but I no longer though I would die from being without him. Then I saw him with someone else.

I had a half a credit of PE to satisfy, so in the winter, that meant some kind of class.

Gena and I chose the racquetball class because it was right before lunch, so we had time to shower after class and not smell like ass sweat for the rest of the day.

"That's a good look for you, Angie," Gena said as we left the courts, a smile on her face as she took in the mess that was my appearance.

I always play full out, so some of my hair slipped out of the rubber band holding it back to hang limp down my face and my back. Sweat rolled down my body, soaking my clothes. My face was hot and probably void of the carefully applied makeup I had started the day with.

Gena's hair, which was thick, long, and naturally curly, stayed perfectly in the tight bun she'd created before class. Her smooth, latte skin glowed with a hint of coral on her cheeks, forehead, and chin. Sweat had taken her makeup, too, but she was one of the lucky ones who didn't even need makeup.

I started to toss back a witty burn, but then I saw Nick walking across the field toward me, and my mind went blank.

"Gena, you go on ahead. I forgot something on the court."

"I'll go with you," she offered.

"Thanks, but it might take me a while. Go ahead. Really." I think he looked at me, but there was so much sweat burning my eyes, I couldn't be sure.

"You want me to wait?"

"No, really, go ahead."

"If you're sure."

"Yes."

Gena headed to the showers while I headed back to the courts, excitement pulsing through me at the thought of what he would say to me. Then a girl in skinny jeans, four-inch-heeled boots, and a low-cut, body-hugging, red shirt that left nothing to the imagination joined him from the nearby basketball court and practically curled her body around his. As one, they changed course and headed toward the parking lot.

I stopped in my tracks. I should have been in the showers getting cleaned up for my next class, but I couldn't tear myself away. It was like passing a horrible car wreck –

you don't want to look, but you do; you can't help it.

He climbed on his bike and put on his helmet. His blond companion climbed on behind him, wrapped her bony arms around his waist, and leaned her milk jugs into his back. I heard her witchy cackle from where I stood, until the growl of the bike drowned it out.

A hot bolt of jealously seared into me. Maybe I was confused about whether I wanted him or not, but I was 100 percent sure I didn't want anyone else – especially her –

to have him.

"What are you still doing out here, Angie?" Gena had finished her shower and come looking for me. "We gotta get to class. Girl, you've been running on slow-mo for days. Is everything—"

"Why don't you just go if you're in such a freakin' hurry," I spat out and stormed toward the showers, tears mixing with the sweat on my face.

"Hey, why are you biting my head off?" I heard her ask in pained confusion.

I ran the rest of the way to the showers. I felt terrible about the way I treated Gena, but bitchiness was a byproduct of having too many emotions vying for control inside me: jealously, relief, anger, happiness, sadness, guilt, unfulfilled passion.

Why hadn't I left the river those many months ago when Nick had come out of the bushes? I knew he was trouble. I just couldn't resist the way he made me feel – sexy, passionate, daring, wanted, and loved.

As the cold water of the shower punished my skin, it came to me that as much as I desired the sweet forbidden fruit, I had done the right thing – for both of us. But how could I get rid of these feelings his leaving left behind?

* * * * *

I hardly saw Nick in the following weeks. And when I did, he carefully avoided me with his presence, if not his eyes. To make things worse, he took up company with that blond bimbo I had seen him leave with. Images of him loving her drove me crazy during the day. Dreams of him loving me drove me wild at night.

I thought it was what I wanted, what I needed to reclaim my old way of life.

I didn't talk with him again until right before Christmas break when I ran into him at a party. I was talking to the party's host, Matt Martinez, who had graduated from our school two years ago. He was telling me a story when he stopped in mid-sentence, noticed someone in the crowd, and smiled.

I turned to see who he was staring at, but the room was too packed.

"Nick," Matt yelled to be heard over the music. Panic stole my breath when I heard the name he was calling. "Nick . . . over here."

Then I saw him. He saw me, too, and paused for an instant. The look on his face said he was as shocked as I was. My heart, which had been dead since he and I broke up, felt its first glimmer of warmth and light. I wanted to run to Nick, throw my arms around him, kiss his mouth, taste him.

My light died when I saw the blond bitch on his arm. Jealousy stabbed me and I felt the blood boil up into my face, turning it hot and, I was sure, red. I wanted to slap him and scratch her eyes out.

Nick and the BB wove their way through the crowd to where Matt and I stood. As they drew closer, Matt grabbed Nick's hand in a warm clasp and did that chest bump hug guys do.

"Hey, man. Glad you finally made it. I was beginning to think you and my little honey lips had skipped town together. Come here, woman." He grabbed Honey Lips, pulled her into his arms, and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on her.

"Thanks for the ride, Nicky," she cooed. As Matt led her by the hand up the stairs that led to the bedrooms, Honey lips giggled.

I watched them ascend, looked at Nick, and then back up at the couple disappearing around the corner, then back at Nick. Surprise stole my voice.

"Chelsea's not my girlfriend."

Relief and joy washed over me, but I kept my tone coldly bland. "Did I ask?"

The corner of his mouth twitched up into a small smile. "You looked like you were worried about it."

"Believe me, I couldn't care less about who you do."

He went on like he hadn't heard me. "She's my cousin. I've been playing taxi since she wrecked her car."

"Again, did you hear me asking about your problems?"

"When we came in, you were looking at us like you wanted to kill us both."

I swear he could read my mind. "You must have imagined it."

"Some people think she's my girlfriend."

"Well, who wouldn't with her hanging all over you like she does?"

"I thought you hadn't noticed us?"

Ouch, busted!
"Well, I only noticed it tonight only because you came in wearing her like stink on a skunk."

"C'mon, Angel. Be honest. You've been watching me in school. I've caught you watching."

"Don't flatter yourself. You could leave town and never come back, and I wouldn't even notice."

I wanted to take back the lies the second they tumbled from my mouth. The look that washed across his face had me wanting to cut out my tongue and hand it to him as a sacrificial apology. Before I could take that drastic action, Matt came back downstairs again and interjected his body between us.

"Chels wants an
Equis
." Then he looked up to a spot above our heads and smiled.

"Hey, man, Angie's under the mistletoe—go for it!" He laughed and strode off.

Nick and I looked up; sure enough, there was the large bunch of green plastic mistletoe hanging above our heads. Our eyes met and held. I had wanted Nick's kiss so bad for so long I often felt it warming my lips. Now that I was this close to getting it, I felt anything but warmed; my fingertips had gone cold and my heart was pounding in my throat. I was afraid and nervous, like a recovering alcoholic suddenly faced with the possibility of having a drink.

Nick's kiss came so lightly and quickly to my lips I didn't have a chance to respond or enjoy it.

"Merry Christmas, Angela," he said and disappeared into the crowd.

Suddenly feeling sick to my stomach, I gave my nearly full beer to one of the guys and went to find Gena. I told her I was going home. She wanted to stay awhile, so after making sure she had a ride home, I drove home alone.

After Christmas break he didn't come back to school. I was too afraid to ask anyone about his disappearance.