Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl (11 page)

“They’ll be back from their road trip by then?” I tense when I hear a knock on the front door.

“They should be,” she says. “You can always call them and find out.”

“Okay, I might do that.” I push up from my bed as the knocking grows louder and tiptoe out of my room and to the front door.

“Or you could just go solo,” she continues, “so you and Beck can finally hook up.”

A nervous exhale trembles from my lips as I lean in to peer out the peephole. “Don’t start again.” A relieved sigh gushes out of me at the sight of Beck standing outside. “Hey, I have to go. Beck just showed up.”

“Of course he did,” she says. “He can barely stand to be away from you for more than a day.”

“He’s just here to help me.”

“Oh, I bet he is. Just make sure to call me after it happens.”

“First off, I’ll never call you right after the first time I have sex.” I wrap my fingers around the doorknob. “And second, Beck and I are never going to have sex. Trust me; he doesn’t even want to have sex with me.”

A voice in the back of my mind cackles with laughter.

“What if he did, though? Would you do it?”

“No.”

“You totally just hesitated—”

“No, I didn’t.”
Did I?
“And why are you so obsessed with this?”

“I’m not. I’m just having fun.”

“Well, can we please drop it?”

“Fine,” she surrenders. “I’ll let you off the hook … for now.”

“Gee, thanks. How very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” she quips. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” I hang up and open the door with a smile on my lips. My relief instantly shifts to confusion, though, as Beck rubs his hand across his mouth, attempting to conceal a grin. “What’s up with all the smiling?”

He rolls his tongue in his mouth. “Why is that weird? I smile all the time. In fact, it’s kind of my MO.”

“True, but still …” I eye him over warily. “You think something’s funny, but I can’t figure out what.”

“Yeah, maybe, but trust me; it’s probably better you don’t know.” He bites down on his lip hard and stuffs his hands into the back pockets. “So, are you ready to tow your car back?” His gaze scrolls across the plaid pajama shorts and long-sleeved top I’m wearing, leaving a trail of heat across my skin that warms
every
part of my body. “You’re still wearing your pajamas.”

“Yeah, I’ve been lazy this morning, probably because someone spoiled me last night and made me sleep so well.” I bite down on my lip. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

A pleased smile lights up his face. “Good. I’m glad I could help. And you should do that more often.”

“Be lazy?” I suddenly become very aware of how trashed the place is and that he can probably see the mess.

He nods, giving me that look I can’t quite figure out. “You need more rest, princess. You’re always so tired because you overwork yourself.”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “It’s nothing I haven’t had to handle before.”

His gaze fastens on mine. “That’s what I’m afraid of. And sometimes, when you handle too much, you eventually break.”

I know what break he’s referring to: the nervous breakdown I had my senior year when I was trying to juggle three jobs, school work, taking care of my drug-addict mom, all while applying to colleges.

“I’m fine. I promise.” I cast a glance across the street, not knowing whether to be relieved or unnerved the person is no longer there.

Beck inches toward me and leans in, lowering his voice. “No, you’re not.” He gestures at the trashed living room behind me. “You shouldn’t have to handle this. You never should’ve had to handle it.”

He smells so good, like cologne and soap and everything that calms me, and I nearly lean into him, grasp his shirt, hold on for dear life, and never let go …

“I know,” I say, making myself stay put. “But there’s not much I can do about it.”

He stares me down with determination. “Except walk away.”

I fiddle with the bottom of my shorts. “I can’t just bail out on her … Could you imagine what would happen if I did? She barely survived my dad walking out.”

He hooks a finger underneath my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I know you worry about your mom, but you can’t spend the rest of your life taking care of her and letting her drag you down. There has to be a point when you say enough is enough, or she’s going to destroy your life.”

“I’ll be fine.” Won’t I?

Sometimes, I wonder how fine I’ll be three years from now … if I’ll graduate from college like I plan to or if something will show up and ruin that plan. That’s one of the things I learned growing up in such an unstable home life: anything can happen in a heartbeat and dropkick the stability out of the ballpark, like when my dad left or when my mom decided to try heroin for the first time a year ago. She’s never been the same since, and the chaotic madness in our life increased.

Maybe Beck’s right. Perhaps it’s time to say enough is enough.

Then what? I walk out on my mom and hope she’ll clean up her act? After all, in the end, as crappy as she is, my mom is the only family I have left. And I’m the only person she has who cares enough to worry about her.

Chapter Eight

Beck

After spending the morning worrying about Willow, I was glad to be at her place again, even if it was just to tow her car home.

As I stood at her front door, I drummed my fingers against the sides of my legs, restless. The neighborhood made me uneasy; people were always selling drugs and sometimes their bodies, and a couple was screwing each other on the front porch of their apartment … At least, I think it was their apartment.

My nerves died, however, when I heard Willow talking to someone through the door, saying my name and sex a couple of times. I wasn’t exactly sure what was being discussed, but listening to Willow talk about me and sex had me grinning like a dumbass.

When she opened the door, I tried to hide my elation and failed epically. Honestly, I didn’t really give a shit. After all, Willow was talking about me and sex. Sex and me.

I couldn’t stop grinning idiotically as I thought about last night.

Then I noticed the disarray in the living room, and my good mood went
poof
as I was painfully reminded of another thing I have to do today: have a talk with her.

Ari is supposed to meet us on the highway in about an hour, which leaves me about thirty minutes to persuade her to move away from this fucking hellhole in the middle of town, and not just move away, but move in with me. Knowing Willow, she isn’t going to take what I have to say very well. She’ll be stubborn, try to refuse. I’ve had this conversation enough times with her to know. But I’m not ready to give up.

I have nightmares of the stuff that goes on here, stuff I’ve heard Willow whisper about when she’s really frightened. I know she holds back all the details … all the time.

“So, what happened to your mom this time that set her off?” I ask after Willow signals for me to come inside. I turn in a circle in the kitchen, glass crunching underneath my boots. Then I tip my head up and frown at the broken light above. “Someone broke your light.”

“I know.” She heaves a weight-of-the-world-on-my-shoulders sigh before crossing the kitchen and opening the fridge. “And I’m not sure what set her off. I think she’s just rebounding.”

I walk up behind her as she lowers her head and peers inside the empty fridge. “Did anyone bother you after I left? The house seemed empty.”

“A guy knocked on my room, but that’s it.”

“
That’s it?
You say that like it’s no big deal.”

“It’s not. Not really. And at least he didn’t come inside my room.”

I take a deep breath as my frustration rises, reminding myself that I’m going to talk to her about this, get her out of here.

She extends her arm across the empty top shelf, slips her fingers behind it, and wiggles out a small box of pre-cooked bacon.

“Did you hide that back there?” I lean against the wall beside the fridge, observing her: the way strands of her long, brown hair hang in her big eyes; the arch of her back; the way her ass peeks out of her pajama bottoms … If I walked up behind her, it’d be the perfect position…

“Yeah, I did.” She steps back and closes the fridge, thrusting me out of my dirty thoughts. “I have to because my mom’s friends usually eat everything when they come over …” She trails off as she looks at me with her head angled to the side. “What’s that look on your face about?”

“What look?”
The look where I think about fucking you from behind? Do I have a look for that, too?

“You just look … I don’t know”—she scratches at the back of her neck—“pensive or something.”

“Pensive, huh?” I choke back a laugh.
Huh, so that’s the look I have on my face when I get dirty thoughts of her
. “Interesting word choice.”

“Well, it’s what you look like.” She tears open the box of bacon. “But the question is, why?” She heads toward the microwave then reels back around with an amused look on her face. “I’m thinking either you’re high or you got some this morning.”

“You know I don’t drive when I’m high.” I pause, assessing her reaction. “And as for the getting some this morning, I actually haven’t gotten any for a really long time.”

“What’s a really long time?” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, her gaze flickering to my lips. “Never mind. That’s none of my business.”

“Why not?” I cock a brow. “I told you when I lost my virginity.”

She scratches her neck again. “Yeah, and I felt pretty uncomfortable when you did.”

I should drop this, but I can’t. She’s acting so shifty, and I want to know why, if it has anything to do with me.

“Why?”

She picks at the corner of the box of bacon. “Why what?”

I straighten from the wall and cross the tiny kitchen, eliminating the space between us. “Why does it bother you when I talk about sex?”

She studies me then frowns. “Have you been talking to Wynter?”

Okay, not what I was expecting, but I’m definitely curious.

“No … Why?”

“Nothing.” She hurriedly waves me off, facing the microwave.

I snag her by the hip, spin her around, and back her up against the counter, causing her to part her lips in shock.

“No way. You can’t just ask something like that and not explain.” I put a hand on each side of her, pinning her between my arms, then lean in until our bodies are flush.

Her chest heaves against mine as she sucks in panicked breaths. I expect her to shove me away, but she elevates her chin, maintaining eye contact, her bottom lip trembling.

“Why is it weird that I asked if you’ve talked to Wynter? You two talk all the time.”

“Yeah, but clearly, you two had a conversation.” I lower my head closer to her, our lips inches apart. So. Fucking. Close. “I’m guessing it was about me and sex.”

Her cheeks flush, and it’s probably the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

“Why would we talk about your sex life?”

“That’s what I’m wondering.” I slant back slightly to search her eyes. “There’s not really much to talk about.”

She averts her gaze from mine. “There’s some stuff, though.”

I lean to the side, forcing her to look at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Her blush deepens. “Can we please stop talking about this? Wynter already made me have a very uncomfortable conversation with her today.”

“About sex?” I pause, tension rippling through my body as something occurs to me. “Wait. Did you … have sex with someone?”

“I’m so not talking to you about this.” She places her hand against my chest and gently pushes me away, but I trap her hand and hold it right above my heart.

The fact that she didn’t give me a direct answer makes my pulse race with nervous energy, which I’m sure she can feel. I don’t care. I’m panicking a little. I mean, sure, I’ve had sex before, but not for a while, not since I realized how much I like her. As far as I know, Willow is still a virgin. If that’s changed, it’s been recent.

Did she meet someone?

“Why can’t you talk to me about this?” I struggle to keep my voice even. “We’ve talked about this kind of stuff before.”

She shakes her head. “We have not.”

I hold up a finger. “Last year, after we played beer pong at one of my parties, we went up to my bedroom, and you admitted to me that you were still a virgin. And I admitted to you that I slept with two people.”

“You don’t need to remind me about that. I have a pretty good memory of it.” Her cheeks flame bright red, and she wiggles her hand away from my chest. “I also remember that I couldn’t look you in the eye for, like, two weeks because you …” She looks everywhere except at me. “But if you really need to know, the answer is no. I haven’t had … sex with anyone.”

There are a million things I want to say to her right now, most of them involving the words sex and touch and kiss, but I back off, remembering the last time I kissed her. Our friendship was like a shaky tightrope afterward until she created that no kissing rule. That’s when I realized how fragile she is, how easily I could lose her.

I don’t ever want to lose her.

I don’t know how much longer I can follow the no kissing rule, either … especially after last night.

“All right, enough with the awkwardness.” I snatch the box of bacon from her hand and toss it onto the table. “Go get your pretty ass dressed so we can tow your car home and then get you something decent to eat.”

She offers me a thankful smile. “Sounds good. But you don’t need to feed me. I can eat the bacon.” She steps toward the table to pick up the box, but I sidestep, blocking her path.

“You need to eat more than that.” I trail my knuckles down her side, repressing a groan when she shivers. God fucking dammit, I love it when she does that. Why can’t we just do it all the time? “You’re already too skinny as it is.” Because her damn mom lets her friends eat all their food.

“Beck, you really don’t have to take care of me,” she insists, but I can see her willpower cracking.