Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
He’s sitting on the hood of his car, facing away from me, staring at something in the near darkness.
He doesn’t have his hoodie on – it’s May now so he shouldn’t feel all that cold, but still – and through the thin material of his light-colored t-shirt, I can see the slabs of his muscled back shifting with each breath he takes.
I knew he’d be here.
At this spot, in the woods.
Located at the edge of town, where his party was that night. This is also where we usually end up when he takes me out on rides.
He looks so still, so deep in his thoughts, that I feel like I’m intruding. That I feel like I should leave him alone.
But I can’t.
He hasn’t said it but I know he needs me.
I know he needs someone by his side.
So here I am.
As it turns out, it’s too late to leave anyway. Because I already have his attention.
He already knows that I’m here and he turns abruptly, his eyes zeroing in on me.
I suck in a breath then.
The moment I get to see his face.
All bruised and battered, covered with cuts. So much so that he’s using his half-bunched up hoodie to put pressure on his jaw.
Back at the field, when their fight continued to escalate and a crowd was gathering, teachers were called in. They made us all leave while Conrad and the group of coaches tried to break up the fight. In the chaos of it all, I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see Ledger either.
I’m pretty sure he looks the same.
My heart squeezes painfully as I study his bruises in the rapidly vanishing evening light.
Stupid soccer.
I hate soccer.
My thoughts break when he moves.
He takes a huge sip from the bottle that I didn’t know he was holding — a liquor bottle, I presume; the liquid inside it looks as transparent as water though — and slams it down on the hood.
Throwing his hoodie aside, he springs up on his feet. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
I hug the backpack to my chest. “I came to –”
He doesn’t let me speak. “Shouldn’t you be at rehearsal?”
“Rehearsal is done. I –”
He fires off another question before I can finish, his eyes searching something beyond my shoulders. “How in the hell did you get here?”
“I, uh, got a ride from a friend.”
His gaze comes back to me, all belligerent. “What friend?”
“From dance. Her brother was picking her up and she said that she could drop me here. It was on her way back.”
His gaze grows even unfriendlier. “Her brother.”
“Yeah. You know him. He’s a senior too. Jonathan Andrews.”
This piece of information makes Reed’s jaw so tight that I have to bite my lip at the force.
“Andrews gave you a ride.”
“Yes. I’ve talked to him some and he seems nice. He’s in the drama club and –”
“Fuck drama club. And fuck Jonathan Andrews.” His nostrils flare. “You’re going to stay away from him.”
“What?”
“Stay away. From him,” he growls angrily.
“Why?”
“Because he’s got a fucking hard-on for you. That’s why.”
Is that why he agreed so easily?
To not only give me a ride but also to keep it a secret at school. Sophie, his sister, isn’t going to be so accommodating, I know. But I’ll deal with that later.
My only aim was to get to Reed.
I blink. “I didn’t… He didn’t… He was just trying to help me.”
Reed shifts on his feet as if getting ready to do battle. “Yeah, I don’t think so. What he was trying to do was lay down the groundwork so he could make a play for you later. So you stay away from him, you understand? He’s a fucking asshole.”
“And if I don’t?”
His chest pushes out then and again I can see the carved muscles of his pecs, his ribs shifting under his t-shirt, making him look even more dangerous than usual.
I think the hoodie takes away from his danger, cloaks it in false softness.
Without it, he’s all dense muscles and hard bones.
His hands are fisted, veins standing out on his wrists and the backs of his hands. “Then I’m going to fuck him up so badly that he won’t be able to drive for the rest of his life.”
I hug my backpack tightly and rub my arms, trying to chase away the goosebumps that arose at his threatening, possessive tone.
Trying to not lose my breaths all at once.
“You sound like my brothers,” I say. “When they talk about you.”
“For once, I agree with them.” His glowing eyes narrow. “Although what I’d like to know is where in the fuck were they when you were getting into Andrews’s car? How could they let this happen? What goddamn use are they if they can’t keep you safe?”
My thighs clench together and I tell him in a breathless tone, “They don’t know. I texted Con and told him that I’d be staying late as usual. He thinks I’m at the auditorium practicing like I always do.”
I did.
It was easy too.
He was expecting it even, after weeks and weeks of lying and telling him that I needed extra hours for practice.
I did need those hours.
But mostly it was because I wanted to spend them with him.
This guy who’s glaring at me and who I knew wouldn’t be showing up at my practice like he usually does.
“So, you lied to them,” he concludes. “Again.”
I nod. “I wanted to come see you.”
And in this moment, I realize that even though I hate lying to my brothers and keeping secrets from them, I’ll still do it. I’ll still lie for him now and forever.
I’ll lie and hide. I’ll seek and run and stop.
I’ll go wherever he is.
“You’ve become quite the liar, huh? For me.”
“I –”
“I think you should go,” he commands in a low, determined voice.
His words make me move.
But I don’t do what he tells me to do.
I don’t leave.
I walk toward him, bridging the distance between us.
“Did you fucking hear what I just said to you?” he asks, agitated, watching me walk toward him.
I don’t answer. I just keep walking, my backpack in hand, my eyes on his gorgeous face. Gorgeous and familiar and so achingly dear to me.
“Go home,” he growls, and I keep ignoring him.
And when I finally, finally reach him, his face dips and his words become thick. “Get the fuck away from me, Fae.”
Does he know that even when he’s being all growly and stubborn and an idiot like he is being right now, he still calls me Fae?
His fairy.
And if he does that, calls me by the name he’s given me, how can I ever leave?
How can I ever stop my heart from flip-flopping in my chest when I crane my neck to look up at him, at his tall form?
I shake my head. “No.”
“What part of you should go now don’t you understand? I’m –”
“I brought first aid. For your injuries.” I speak over him.
“I don’t need your fucking first aid.”
I knew he’d say that.
So I say something else that I wanted to say. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“For what Ledger said.” I take a step closer to him, to his heat, to his violently breathing chest. “He provoked you and he shouldn’t have done that. You were leaving.”
He stares down at me for a moment. “Yeah well, he wasn’t lying, was he?”
I raise my hand to touch his jaw where he was pressing his now discarded hoodie. But he grabs my wrist to stop me. “And I’m sorry about your dad. I don’t know the why or the how or any of that stuff. But Tempest shared a little bit of it with me and –”
“Tempest should keep her mouth shut,” he says with clenched teeth and his thumb mashing into my pulse.
Even so, I’m not deterred. “I-I’m here though.”
“You’re here for what?”
“If you ever want to talk about it.”
Reed goes silent for a second as if he can’t believe I said that. As if it hasn’t occurred to him that anybody would say that. “You want me to talk about it.”
“Yes.” I throw him a reassuring nod. “Talking helps.”
Again, he goes silent for a few seconds before he replies, “Yeah, no. Talking isn’t what I had in mind. So, you should really call yourself a cab and leave.”
He lets go of my wrist then, ready to dismiss me.
But he doesn’t know that with nothing stopping me, I have free rein.
I have free rein to get even closer to him, free rein to put my hand on his body.
His chest.
Smooth and muscled and hard under his cotton t-shirt. Radiating heat.
As soon as I touch him though, he stops breathing. His chest ceases all motion and he lowers his eyes to look at my hand on his body.
“What is it then?” I whisper and he looks up, his wolf eyes flashing. “What’s on your mind?”
The anger in him, the agitation, is palpable and when he resumes breathing, he becomes even scarier somehow.
It’s like touching a wild animal, petting his hard, lethal body.
But I’m not afraid.
Because strangely I think I can tame him.
Strangely I think I’m the girl to tame this wild mustang.
“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” he asks.
His challenge only makes me caress his chest gently, tenderly, and he clenches his teeth. “Yes. Tell me.”
“I’m warning you, Fae, you need to leave now.”
His muscles buzz under my fingers.
As if his cold, black heart is trying to bust free from the cage of his ribs but doesn’t know how yet.
“Why?”
He leans down over me, his chest pushing back against my hand. “Because my head is all fucked up right now. And this here is my second bottle of vodka. So I’m not exactly thinking.”
In retaliation, I push him back with my hand and close that last inch between us.
So far my backpack was acting like a wall between us but I let it go now. It slips from between our bodies and crashes on the ground with a thud.
Neither of us even spares it a glance though, no.
I’m too busy finally meeting his tall, hard body with mine and he’s too busy being shocked that our bodies are touching.
This isn’t the first time that we’ve touched like this.
Of course not.
He helps me with my routine. He lifts me, assists me in my leaps and turns. He knows what my body feels like. I know what his body feels like too, all hard and smooth.
Powerful.
Like he could push mountains away to make space for his tall self and rip the earth open with his bare hands if he wanted to.
I know all that and yet I’ve never felt his body like this.
Just because I want to. Just because I can.
And neither has he.