Against the Rules (Even The Score #4)

39. willow

CHAPTER 39

WILLOW

THE GUNNER

I’d never been a morning person and whenever I arrived at the training center, Piper always had my tea and something for breakfast for me. When she asked if I could stop by her face painting event, it was an easy yes.

"The trick is lots of layering," I told her, sitting in front of Adam, painting the turtle on his face. I did the face paint for my brothers’ birthdays when they were little, it was muscle memory. "Don’t be afraid to smear, you can always add paint."

"Oh my god, that’s beautiful work. Oh, here they come!" Piper hurried away to greet the graduate students wandering in for free pizza and Adam caught my eye.

" Thank you, " he mouthed.

"Kind of an interesting event for grad students," I whispered.

"She’s trying everything to get them out of their dorms. Ungrateful bastards."

I burst into laughter and finished up the bright blue dabs to create the Adam masterpiece. He checked himself out with the mirror.

"Damn, I look good. Piper! "

"Ooo, sexy!" She laughed.

"Can’t resist me now, huh?"

I couldn’t help grinning at the two of them. Maybe I still had my reservations about them being engaged but it was hard to deny how bad Adam had it for Piper. It wasn’t lunch at Gianna’s without him pulling her on his lap. Their PDA was a constant of hanging out with them.

"Jasmine!" a voice barked from the sliding doors. "We hold hands! "

I froze.

Oh no.

I specifically asked Piper if King was coming tonight, and she confirmed he couldn’t make it. I snuck a look over my shoulder. Maybe Piper meant King wasn’t coming alone, because Jasmine raced into the lobby until she stumbled to a stop, eyes on me.

"When we’re in a parking lot, the cars can’t see you," King continued, walking through with his hands shoved in his hoodie. "How many times?—?"

He stopped when he saw me and stalled by the doors.

" Willow! " Jasmine belted out. "Willow, Willow, Willow!" She ducked around the grad students filling up the event and tried to shove Adam off the chair. "Move, move, move ?—"

"You’re kicking me out?" Adam demanded. "Jasmine, I can’t believe you’d do this to me."

She gave him a pleading look. "We see each other all the time . I don’t get to see Willow! I never, ever get to see Willow and I see you all the time, can I talk to Willow, please? PLEASE?!"

Adam sighed but left the chair for Jasmine, who quickly pulled herself up. Off to the side, I could hear Piper asking King about stopping by. "It was a last-minute plan."

His mom must be in the hospital again .

I stole another look at him and saw…bandages around one of his fingers?

What happened?

I stared until I realized his eyes were on me. I left his gaze just as fast.

"I’m taking piano lessons." Jasmine put her elbows up on the table and a container of green paint tipped over, spilling everywhere. I wiped it up while she tried to help with a napkin, pretty much just spreading it. "I’m taking them after school, mom says I can take the lessons with Ms. Biles, and?—"

King strode over. "Jasmine, you need to watch what you’re doing?—"

"It was an accident," Jasmine snapped.

"You need to pay attention to? — "

I held up a hand. "It’s okay, we got it. It’s fine."

She was six years old, paint was bound to get knocked over. I wasn’t worried about it. He didn’t need to either. I had no idea what kind of situation they came from, but it was better if the spilled paint wasn’t a big deal.

Jasmine threw him a dirty look and settled back with me, to talk about her piano lessons and the new summer school program she went to while I painted a crown on her forehead.

"I want King to get face paint," she decided.

I cracked a smile. "You’re going to paint his face?"

"Yes . " She flipped around. "KING! KING! "

He glanced over.

"Do you want your face painted?"

He shook his head.

"Yes, you do!"

"We came here for you to get your face painted."

"I want to paint your face! I want to do tiger stripes!"

She repeated it a dozen more times before he reluctantly walked over. Which was fine. I did my part, printed out instructions for the event, I could leave for the open mic early.

But Jasmine stopped me. "Can you show me how to do it?"

"Do what?" I hesitated. "Oh. You want me to…"

"Jazz." King shook his head. "Willow has to go."

"Can you please, Willow? Please? Can you please? Before you go?"

"I—uh?—"

" Pleeeease? "

Okay, a few minutes to show Jasmine and then I was out for real. Slowly, I nodded, and King took the seat, so close, our knees were only two inches apart.

This would be quick. I’d make sure of that.

He had to lean down just to give me access and then he was so close . Too close. His square jaw, inches away from me, his dark hair, tousled over his forehead, and his shoulders, outflanking me, King was just big .

If I could think of this like painting one of the relatives at a birthday party, it’d be fine. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but gaze up at him while his eyes trailed down to my lips.

This is going to be hell.

"Wait, can you do—um—?" Jasmine hummed loudly. "Can you do superhero?"

"Like a superhero mask?"

"Mm-hmm. Can you paint the scars?"

I had no idea what to say to that. Was I supposed to say something? If he was a stranger, that wouldn’t be cool, but he was her big brother, so did that warrant a comment? And could I paint them?

"It’s fine," King said, no doubt reading the uncertainty on my face.

For that, I was grateful.

"Okay, so…we’re going to make them part of the superhero look," I told Jasmine, fighting the awkward feeling inside of me. "Lots of superheroes have scars."

Jasmine sat in my lap, watching as I started to paint King’s face. He didn’t look at his little sister. His full gaze was on me.

I needed to say something. The silence was too loud.

"Um…did you hurt your hand?"

"New tattoo."

I paused. "What is it?"

"Plants."

"Oh. I…didn’t know you were a plants guy."

He took so long to reply, I didn’t think he was going to. "I didn’t know I was either."

"How’d you get scars?" Jasmine wondered.

Even if my brothers used to be the same way when they were Jasmine’s age—blurting out uncomfortable questions to strangers at the grocery store was a weekly form of torture—I still cringed. Until the cringe faded and then…curiosity.

How did King get those?

Why didn’t his little sister know?

"Car accident," King answered.

"Was mom in the car?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Which is why it’s important to be safe," he said, his voice low. "In the car, what do we do?"

"Play my music."

"No. Jasmine, safety . What do we do?"

"Wear seatbelts."

He nodded while I poured extra paint.

"But mom doesn’t always?—"

"But you’ll wear a seatbelt or I’m not paying for driving school."

"Pizza!" Piper announced and Jasmine hurried from my lap, bolting over to the lure of food.

Leaving King and I alone.

I started an upward motion of painting his scars again. Being this close, I could really see them. Some of them were deeper than I thought, indented into his skin.

The more I painted them, the more I thought about Elijah’s words.

King couldn’t have been a bully. There was no way. But it wasn’t just that. Elijah had been adamant that King was dangerous.

How did he get these scars?

For a long moment, I debated before I finally posed the question, as soft as I could make it. "So, these are from…not wearing a seatbelt?"

King’s eyes flickered beyond me, and I knew he was checking on Jasmine, eating pizza and asking about Piper’s engagement ring. When my hand stalled, he shook his head.

"What…did happen?"

He was quiet for so long, I thought that was his refusal to answer, and I understood. King and I really didn’t know each other for very long. What right did I have to find out that his little sister didn’t?

"Do you know what a gunner is?" he finally asked.

"Um…no?"

"I don’t know what they call them in San Antonio. But you know what street racing is."

"Street racing?" I echoed. "Like Fast and Furious? "

"The cars weren’t that nice and Vin Diesel wasn’t there."

My brush hovered over his face. "Are you joking? You did drag racing?"

"Not drag racing."

"What’s the difference?"

"Drag racing is legal."

Out of every possible explanation for the scars, I would have never, ever guessed the real story. I didn’t know anyone who drove cars like that. My dad liked to go a smooth thirty-five miles an hour on the main highway, it wasn’t a road trip without someone flipping him off.

"A gunner is someone who doesn’t own one of the cars, but can drive if someone needs a driver for the night. We called them gunners. Like gunning an engine."

"You’re serious?" I whispered.

"Yeah. I didn’t have the right car, but I fixed them up with a shop, and they taught me how to drive."

King fell silent again. It wasn’t like he was uncomfortable though, it was like he was waiting on me. Like he wanted to give me a second to catch up, but I needed a lot longer than that. I knew street racing existed, in theory. I just couldn’t connect that with King.

"Oh my god, did you crash a car?"

"I flipped a car."

"Were they mad?"

"No."

I couldn’t imagine the people operating illegal street racing were pumped about their souped-up vehicles, damaged. The more I gazed at King, the more I knew he was holding out for me.

"Was it on purpose?"

He nodded.

"Willow?" Jasmine popped up from the side and I jumped, the paintbrush clattering to the ground.

I scrambled for the paintbrush. "Huh? What?"

"Do you want pizza? I can get you pizza."

"No, I—I’m good."

She wandered back to grab breadsticks, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. My Keyland Aurora was rear-ended and that scared the shit out of me. Something like what King went through would’ve turned me off of cars forever.

"And that was…in high school?"

"Yeah. It’s the only stunt I ever did that went wrong, they fucked up the beater I was supposed to hit, my arc was off. The more—uh—sturdy something is, the more fucked up you get from hitting it. Immovable objects and unstoppable forces. But I got a good payout."

"They paid for your hospital bills?"

"I didn’t go to the hospital."

"You…?"

"They had a vet on site."

"A vet?! "

I said that a little louder than I meant to but at least the event was busy. I blushed, embarrassed.

"Are you done?" Jasmine jumped into the conversation again. "Do you want to sing karaoke? Can we sing Frozen? "

I was supposed to take in this new piece of information like it meant nothing. King was in a major car accident and—done. Move on to the next subject?

The idea of King, physically hurt, was so alien, I couldn’t picture it. He was so much beefier than plenty of his teammates, and I stole glances at him while he worked out at the gyms. The man was a tank.

I couldn’t imagine the car crash.

It hurt to think about.

"Adam?" Piper stretched back. "Can you grab my door decorations?"

"Once I get the karaoke machine going, I got you, ice princess."

"Do you need them?" King said.

"Oh my god, yes. Can you grab them? They’re in the staff room down the hall."

I didn’t say anything. Was it better to say something or not say something? I had no idea. King pushed up from the chair and headed down the hallway because of…door decorations?

Because of me?