Very Wicked Things (9 page)

Isn’t it strange, that it hurt me more when he died? Because I realized the bite would heal. I would get better, but he was dead forever. He’d betrayed me, leaving me there to carry on alone with my mama and my little life.

And Cuba had betrayed me too, telling me he loved me when he didn’t. And the sting of that bite would never heal.

Spider poked me in the arm, reminding me to pay attention.

“No, come
with me
to the dance. Be my date.”

I set down my taco. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Like a date, date?”

He rubbed his forehead and then glanced over at Mila. “Mind if I catch up with you a bit later?”

Mila gave me an odd smile, like she knew something I didn’t, and then packed up her lunch and said good-bye. As she walked away, the tension crackled in the air, most of it emanating from Spider.

He fiddled with his soda can, his brown eyes growing hooded as he watched me. Hot and filled with promise, his gaze made me sit up straighter. I’d sensed a change in him lately, not missing how his hands lingered longer than a friend’s should.

“Is this some plan to get a girl off your back?” I did that for him sometimes, pretended to be his new love interest to discourage the stalker types.

“No.” He came around the table and sat in a chair next to me, smelling like smoke and spearmint. It tickled my nose, and it wasn’t unpleasant, reminding me of his dorm room. “Cuba isn’t the only bloke at BA. And we’d be good together.”

Oh
. I cleared my throat. “We are good friends, but Cuba taught me a bad lesson, and I’m not revisiting…” I floundered when his lips tightened. “Spider? Are you mad?”

“It pisses me off to see you write
me
off because of what
he
did. You’re not over him.”

“I
am
over him,” I said, louder than I intended, catching the stares of other students.

“Why did you talk to him today, then? Didn’t he do enough to you last year?”

“It was part of our class assignment, if you must know,” I snapped. “And don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I know full well what happened. Hello, I was there. ”

His nose flared. “I was too. But, obviously, it doesn’t matter how bloody awful he treated you because you’re
still
in love with him.”

The blood pounded in my veins at his words.

This entire day had been
wrong
. Since the moment I’d rolled out of bed, I’d sensed a sucky day, and then Cuba had made contact at my locker, and now Spider was acting strange. Besides all that, some lingering,
ugly thing
was jabbing at my head, just waiting for me to remember.

“Say something, Dovey. You’re distracted as fuck and if it has to do with him—”

“Just stop. Stop saying his name. Please,” I said, my fingers twisting the napkin on the table.

He groaned and threw his hands up. “I’m right sick of you moping over him. Just learn to trust somebody else.”

“I’m not moping. I’m fine.” I hadn’t been fine in a year.

He barked out a laugh, but it sounded humorless. “Why won’t you give anyone else a chance, then?”

“I went out with Jacques.”

He waved his hands, dismissing me. “You used him. I mean a real relationship.”

“Like with you?”

“Why not me?” he stated earnestly, some of his earlier irritation fading. “I’m your friend. I care for you. And maybe I’ve only been going through every girl here, waiting until you noticed me. Maybe I’ve decided to risk it. Go big or go home, right?”

I blinked, struck speechless. One part of me wanted to explore the possibility of us because I was attracted to him—how could I not be?—but the other side didn’t trust him with my heart. Hell no. Not with the way he treated his girlfriends.

Because he was just like Cuba.

“You mean the world to me,” I said. And he did. Without him, I was basically friendless.

“But?” Spider asked.

“I—”

Cuba sauntered by, his long legs encased in low slung jeans, his impossibly broad shoulders stealing my gaze. His roses and thorns tattoo peeked from under the sleeve of his shirt, and my mouth got dry, remembering those biceps and how tight they’d held me. Why did he have to be so beautiful? My eyes searched his face, looking, waiting, yearning for him to
see
me.

But his head never turned in my direction.

“Fuck you,” Spider said to me in a low tone, his face reddening.

I flinched, my eyes back on Spider. “I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for his hand, but he jerked away, snapping out of his seat.

“And that’s my answer.” Giving me a grim look, he walked out of the cafeteria.

I felt hurt by how fast he left me. But then anything to do with Cuba had always pushed Spider’s buttons.

I got up and took the remains of our lunches to the trash. As I passed the jock table, my eyes sought Cuba. As usual.

He was back at his seat, sunglasses off, staring down into his uneaten lunch while Sebastian and crew talked around him. Perhaps feeling my gaze, he lifted his head and our stares connected. I didn’t know what I’d see there, maybe left-over anger from this morning, but not the hopelessness he allowed me to see now. I’d seen a similar expression this morning at his locker, but the emotion I now read in his eyes clawed at my chest.

And in the face of his desolation, a trickle of truth came to me.

It all made sense.

It dawned on me the ugly thing I’d failed to see.

Today was the day his mother had killed herself.

Caving in to the inevitable, I moved toward him, my feet pointing his way, being drawn like a magnet in his direction. I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. That I understood his darkness today. I’d lost my own mother to pills and alcohol when I was ten.

He stiffened at my approach, his gaze hurriedly dropping mine. I winced and waited for him to look back up, but who was I kidding? He’d never needed me.

Even in his darkest moment last year, he’d rejected me.

Emma tugged on his arm, and he turned to her, a fake smile on his face.

I had to turn away.

“
Lie until it becomes the truth
.”

–
Cuba

STROKE, BREATHE, STROKE, breathe
.

I swam in the Olympic-sized swimming pool inside the athletic center after class. Football was officially over, but I continued to work hard at keeping in shape. There’s something about pushing myself with exercise that numbs me out and makes me forget. And I’d gotten addicted to the high of powering through exhaustion. Conditioned by years of sports, my body was my machine and the only thing I had real control over.

Everything else was a crap shoot, especially my personal life.

My arms sliced into the water in a perfect rhythm, reminding me of Dovey and how she danced. The first time I’d seen her dance had been through the huge windows of the Symthe Arts Building where she practiced. It’s not surprising since the building sat adjacent to the football field.

One day, during football practice while I was supposed to be covering the line of scrimmage, I got distracted by her short skirt and long legs when they flashed by the window. I came to a dead stop when I saw her do this flying jump thing through the air. Next thing I knew, I’d woken up, stretched out on the field.

The concussion had been worth it.

After that, I’d noticed her more and more. Out in the quad, in class, in the cafeteria, in the library. Where ever she was, my eyes had found her. And when we’d both gotten placed in the same history block together, I’d sat behind her and began my campaign to get her notch on my bedpost. And in the end, she’d been like all the rest, unable to resist me.

But I didn’t want her now.

And I’d nailed it home today with my mean words
.

But then why did I hurt so much now, when I’d been able to stave it off for a year.

But, I think I knew what was going on with me.

Something had shifted in me today at our lockers. Something had clicked or been turned on or whatever. I was feeling
more
. It was as if I was finally waking up after being submerged in water for a year. Drowning my feelings had been comfortable, and I wanted it back.

Because barely living worked for me. It’s what I deserved anyway.

But something had changed.

And the crux of the matter had to be the fucking anniversary of this day.

I punished myself for thinking about her by adding additional laps as I swam, embracing the burn. Later when I was home and exhausted, the workout would help me sleep. That and a bottle of Jack from dad’s study I’d swipe—if he didn’t come home. Which knowing what today was, he’d probably work late. Not talking about our grief seemed to be the way we handled things. Even better, I could call up Marissa, one of the older college girls I liked to hook-up with. Yeah, the best way to forget a girl is to get another one under you.

After swimming, I walked out of the center and headed for the parking lot. My feet betrayed me, and I took the route that went past the dance building where she might still be practicing. My chest tightened the closer I got, and I don’t know if it was more from anticipation or dread. Definitely a combination. Because one part of me longed to stare at her without her knowing, but the other side of me knew there was no point. Still I headed that way, and when my feet stopped directly in front of the big windows, I glanced in all casual like. No one was there.

I’d missed her. Thank God.

By the time I got to the parking lot, I was freezing from the cold front that had moved in. In the space of five minutes, I had the Porsche’s heat on and the music cranked. I eased out of my spot, aiming for the quickest exit on the east side of the parking area. But before I reached the main road, I saw an old brown car, its hood popped. My pulse kicked up at the sight of Dovey bending over, peering at the engine as her skirt blew in the wind.

My first instinct was to stop and see what was wrong because that’s what a decent guy would do, but that’s not me. I drove past her, refusing to look. No big deal. But when I got to the turn for the main road, I couldn’t make myself leave. I mean, it was after five o’clock and the parking lot was practically empty. What if no one helped her? On the other hand, she was tough and could take care of herself…

I backed up, whipped my car into a spot next to hers and got out, completely ignoring my promise to stay away from her.

I cleared my throat.

She didn’t budge, intent on the car. I understood her silence when I saw she had ear buds in.

I blew out a breath. Did I really want to talk to her. Willingly?

“You know what you’re looking at?” I asked her, rather loudly.

She jerked and straightened up, bumping her head on the raised hood. “
Ouch!
” She pulled out the ear buds and rubbed her temple. “That hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my gaze taking in every facet of her, like I needed it to breathe. Her dark hair was tousled from bending over, she had a smudge of grease from the engine on her cheek, and a red spot on her forehead where she’d banged it.

She bounced from foot to foot in those boots, her face guarded. No surprise there. Our altercation in class was fresh in my mind. I’m sure it was in hers, too.

“Let me help you,” I said, glancing at the car.

“No thank you,” she said, turning away to look under the hood.

I deserved that. In fact, I think she was being polite considering what a jerk I’d been today.

I licked my lips. “I’m sorry, Dovey.”

She froze. “Sorry for what?”

Yeah, explain that one.

“Cuba?” She put her hands on her hips.

For playing with her heart?

So I kept it simple. “I was a douche in class today. And there’s no excuse for it. I’m sorry.” I owed her more, but I couldn’t say it.

“So I wasn’t just a curiosity to you?” she asked, face stony.

I mentally groaned. “Someday, I’ll explain—”

“
Did you say
someday?”

I nodded.

“Here’s the thing, Cuba.
Somedays
will eat you alive. They’re promises you make to fool yourself into believing everything will turn out right in the end. Someday, your ship will come in. Someday, you’ll tell me why you’re an asshole. But that someday gets further and further away, until before you know it, it turns into never. Make your someday, now. That’s my motto.”