Chapter 10 #2
What James had just confessed seemed to be more important than me; as a matter of fact, the two of them weren’t paying attention to me anymore.
“Shit.”
The two guys started chattering intensely and unintelligibly, so James motioned with his head for me to run away from Ethan.
I stood up and threw myself against James’s chest. He grabbed me with both hands and held me in a firm grip. We looked at each other for a few seconds until I hid behind him. My cheek grazed his bare, slightly moist back, which gave off a seductive and reassuring scent.
“Get in the car,” he commanded.
I acquiesced without protesting. His arm was shaking, a sign that the situation was more tense than expected.
I got in the car, leaving the door ajar. I wanted to hear what they were saying.
“We’ll talk to Dad about it, let’s see what he thinks,” yelped Tom, turning to James.
“Hunter, if I find out that you’re fucking with me, I won’t let you or her get away with it,” Austin threatened, jerking his head at me. “Let’s go, Tom. Look at the state he’s in. I feel bad.”
They walked away, continuing to glare at us as I realized that I was trembling.
When James got in the car, we stared at Austin’s SUV, then at the dark neighborhood.
“James, who does the gun belong to?”
He dropped his head into his hands.
“Taylor . . . her dad.”
“And they killed someone with that gun, didn’t they?”
James didn’t answer, and that was enough for me to understand what had happened. Clearly he had killed someone for James using Taylor’s dad’s gun.
“Who’d they kill with that gun?”
I watched him throw his head back and plop it on the headrest as he stared at the roof.
“From what I heard tonight, I have something else to be afraid of.”
His usually deep and firm voice seemed to tremble slightly in fear.
“What are you talking about, James?”
“They didn’t kill him.”
“Who?”
At that point a light bulb seemed to go off in his head because his eyes widened, imbued with angst, and he punched the steering wheel. The vein sweeping down his neck swelled.
“They didn’t fucking do it,” he yelled.
“Let’s go inside. You’re too shaken up to drive,” I recommended, getting out of the car. I watched him rub his cheek several times. He was upset.
“What about your mom?”
“She’s on vacation with a friend. I’m alone.”
“Fuck. And I even warned you!” he attacked me angrily.
My first impulse was to tell him to go to hell, but I decided to count to ten. Now wasn’t the time to act childish. I had to swallow my pride. After all, he’d saved my ass.
“Please,” I insisted firmly.
James looked at me with his usual arrogant air for a moment, then, to my shock, he just nodded.
“I’m guessing that calling the police is out of the question?” I said as we got to the front door.
“Are you out of your mind?” James froze me with a piercing glare.
“I was about to say—” I groaned, bringing him inside where an unsettling silence hung in the air.
“Where’d your mom go? My dad left for a few days, too, since Jasper’s on a school trip.”
My eyes widened. “I can’t believe her. That pathological liar lied to me again.” I covered my mouth with one hand, mortified. James just shrugged as if it didn’t concern him.
We tried to talk about our parents, maybe to defuse the fear, but in reality I was still shaking and James was white as a sheet. I took off my gym shoes, went into the kitchen, and poured a cup of water.
“Here.”
James plopped on back of the couch and took two long sips, then looked at me suspiciously.
“What are your intentions, princess?”
Maybe he noticed that we’d managed to go ten minutes without insulting each other, and I was trying to be weirdly nice. I looked down at the floor.
“So can you stay here or not?” I asked in a tone that sounded, for all intents and purposes, exasperated.
James didn’t answer, but he continued to gaze at me.
“Um.”
Hurry up and say yes.
He rolled his eyes without talking, and I took that as a yes. I pointed at the couch.
“I’m gonna go get you something . . . some blankets,” I whispered.
I didn’t care if James had stuff to do, if he had to go to Will’s house, or if he was going to any girl’s house. I wanted him to stay with me. I didn’t want to be here alone tonight. Not after those two maniacs had visited us.
“White.” James called my name when he saw me go up the stairs.
“What?”
“Are you sure?”
My eyes were captured by the image of two luminous orbs under his dark, messy hair. His sculped body, broad shoulders, and solid, bare chest were accentuated by protruding muscles, and his tan made every contrast even more pronounced.
“I don’t feel like being alone. Not after tonight,” I admitted sheepishly. But then I rushed to turn around for fear of acting too vulnerable around him.
I walked upstairs, got to my room, and looked for sheets in the closet.
I was rummaging through the clean linens, but my brain was stuck in a loop thinking about what had happened.
What if they hurt him? What if they took me away? How far could they go? Now they knew where I lived too.
Maybe I should go to the police.
“So this is your room.”
James’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and I jumped.
“God, you almost gave me a heart attack! Yeah, this is my room.”
James absentmindedly ran his finger through his messy hair while his indigo eyes fixed on my made bed. He bit his lip, and I couldn’t help but think about last night. And something told me that he was thinking about it, too, because his lips curved into a mischievous smile.
“So I’ll sleep—”
“No, that’s my bed.” I cut him off before he could start.
“You don’t even know what I wanted to ask you,” he whispered, amused. Like I didn’t know.
“Can I take a shower?” he asked, pointing at the bathroom in my room.
“I said no.”
I rummaged through the linens to distract myself from his body, which was coming dangerously close to mine.
“I was about to take a knife in the neck for you, and you won’t even let me use the shower?”
At first, I stared daggers at him, then I shook my head in disagreement.
“No, that’s my bathroom. You can shower in the shower stall downstairs.”
“I already went there. It’s cramped. I can’t even fit inside.” He fiddled with the strings on his shorts, getting on my nerves.
“Look, Hunter, I—”
James pulled me toward him quickly and put both hands on my shoulders, making my heart skip a beat. What’d gotten into him now?
“Shh. Let’s call a truce for the night. There are more important things than how much you hate me.”
“You feel it too.” I timidly looked up into his eyes, and threw out that provocation.
“What do I feel?” he muttered under his breath, before letting his gaze drift down my quivering body.
His scent spread under my skin like a permanent memory.
“Um . . . hatred. Toward me.”
He lifted the corner of his mouth in a half smile—the same one he used with any girl at school. Maybe it was his dimples. I had to stop.
“I’m sleeping on the couch. Don’t stress yourself out, Snow White.”
He’d told me loud and clear on multiple occasions that I disgusted him. The other night he was just bored.
But what did those words matter if he then came to me when I really needed him?
“Suit yourself. If you need a clean towel . . .”
James backed away without taking his eyes off me, then put his hand on the edge of his shorts. He stopped talking, staring at me right in the eye, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.
“James!” I shouted, before I realized he was still in his boxers.
“Why are you always so shocked by everything?”
“I’m going to—” I gesticulated nervously.
I felt his gaze on me, but I didn’t have the courage to look at him.
“Aren’t you forgetting the blankets?” he mocked me, amused.
“Yeah.” I groaned, grabbing sheets randomly from my closet.
“If you wanna make yourself a chamomile tea, can you make one for me too?” he asked, laughing. I hated him. Him and his stupid dimples.
“Try not to make too much of a mess. My mom’s not here. If you splatter too much water in the shower, and then I have to clean the glass . . .”
“Blah, blah, blah. Keep talking a little more, and I’ll pull these down too,” he threatened, putting a hand on his boxers.
His thumb slid across the dark fabric of his boxers, and I blushed.
I bolted down the stairs embarrassingly fast. I only moved faster when my mom made pizza.
I put water in the kettle and stared at the little red light until it started blinking. I’d asked James to stay, but now that he was here, I was more afraid of spending the night in the same house with him than of the thought of Austin coming back.
I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I’d called him and that he’d rushed over so quickly to save me. Just then I saw James walk into the living room wearing a robe with a pink flamingo-shaped hood. It was mine.
“Just tell me you’re wearing something under there.”
“It’s cute. Just a little small.”
He tousled his still-wet hair. I poured the boiling water into the mugs. I was particularly tense and couldn’t hide it.
“Why are you so nervous?” he asked.
“Maybe because of what happened tonight? And how is it that you always manage to mess with me even in cases like this?” I pointed at the robe he was wearing.
“Is it my fault you have weird taste?”
“Idiot.”
“I like it, shut up.”
I burst out laughing for no reason, and he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back another smile.
James didn’t say anything more. He sat down on the couch as I handed him the boiling-hot mug, which he used to warm his hands.
I expected him to tease me for the chamomile too. Instead, I was floored by his deep voice.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked him in the eyes without really knowing how to respond.
He was saying that while wearing my robe, so how could I take him seriously?
“For what?”
“For Austin. For earlier.”
I felt anxiety grip my chest again.
“They know where I live now. It throws me off,” I said.