Chapter 8
Sorrow
Before we can talk more, there’s laughter from the direction of the trail. Faster than I can take my next breath, Trace gets to his feet with me in his arms. I hang on to his neck and suck in a surprised breath.
I knew he was strong, but not this strong. “Put me down,” I say in a low voice with desperation. “They’ll think something happened between us.”
“Of course they will, and of course it did. Who stays out here for as long as we have without some something-something happening?”
“Some something-something?” I can imagine him thrusting his hips like in movies with frat boys. Laughter bursts from me. In the moment, I kiss his nose. “You’re funny.”
There is a heartbeat of silence. Then suddenly I’m set on my feet, my arms are pried from his neck, and Trace steps back, putting space between us. I stumble. My arms hang out there before I realize I’m holding air. Embarrassed, I drop my arms to rest against my sides.
What just happened? “Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” He avoids looking at me. Was it my laughter? “I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at your joke. It was a joke, wasn’t it?”
Did I hurt Trace’s feelings? He comes off as unconcerned, but he has feelings like everyone else, and no one can tell me otherwise, including his hookups.
I overheard them in the bathroom or the hallways going on and on about how good he is in bed.
I wanted to rip out their hair and demand they not talk about him, that they should keep what’s private to themselves, rather than brag about how they snagged Trace’s attention and time and had to flap their yaps.
Don’t they know there’s more to Trace Saints than his good looks and skills in the bedroom?
“I’m good.”
His voice pulls me out of my thoughts. His silhouette is tall and lean with the moon as a backdrop, but there’s uncertainty in the way he holds himself.
I wish I had my sketch book. I’ve never seen Trace look so uncertain.
He always comes off confident. Nothing bothers him.
But my laughter did. Why, when it hadn’t earlier, when he brought up frogs being horny?
Jesus, my fingers itch to capture the uncertainty in his stance, the inward pull of his shoulders, his downward gaze, and the stark outline of his Adam’s apple.
Rush and kids I don’t recognize step into the clearing. They must be from Delridge High. As soon as they see us, they stop talking and shine their flashlight apps on us.
I pull the ball cap lower over my face. Rush looks from me to Trace, who has moved two arm’s lengths from me with his hands jammed in his pockets.
“Everything okay?” Rush directs the question at me.
“Yes,” I say in a louder voice than I would use in a crowd of people I barely know and who have made it clear they would like to keep it that way.
Rush looks at a spot over my head. Trace has moved behind me.
I can feel his presence as a ball of agitated energy.
Will he throw a rock at Rush? Will Rush fight back this time?
Who names their kid Rush? Then again, my parents named me Sorrow.
I don’t have long to think on it. Trace walks away, leaving me behind to deal with Rush, the kids, and the blanket on the ground.
It’s the only evidence that something happened between us.
Did he change his mind about Phoebe?
Avoiding the pity in the kids’ eyes, I pick up the blanket, shake it off, and stuff it and Trace’s ball cap in my bag. Sighing, I follow Trace, having learned lessons from him already.
One, deep conversations aren’t important to a guy who is into casual hookups. Two, teasing him doesn’t matter, either. I laughed, and he took it the wrong way, setting me on my feet like I was something disgusting.
Three, a guy can go along with my idea one moment, and make me wonder if the whole incident was a figment of my imagination the next.
Four, being vulnerable and sharing something personal, like how I don’t want to be taken advantage of by a guy or to fall for a guy, won’t make him understand or like me.
Being vulnerable comes with risks, and I risked my heart and got nothing in return except for pity and the ache in my chest.
What matters, though, is the physical part.
Trace liked holding me in his lap. When I squirmed, he became hard and his breathing sped up.
I was surprised at first that I could do that to him, but I read that a man’s erection is involuntary, and it can happen anytime and from the most minor things.
Which means I could’ve been any girl, and Trace would get hard. The thought is depressing.
I walk down the path with my bag over my shoulder and my flashlight app lighting the way back to the party.
Footsteps approach from behind me. Is it one of the girls running up to grab my hair and yank it back for spending time with Trace? The other girls’ jealousy and bullying are the reasons I asked for the experiment to be a secret.
“You warm enough, Sorrow?”
Rush comes from behind and takes a spot on the trail next to me. I walk more slowly. I’m not in a hurry to watch the girls salivating over Trace, or to see Phoebe clinging to him as they say their goodbyes. Phoebe doesn’t go to our school. She goes to Delridge High, Cambridge’s rival.
“Yes, thank you.” My voice is quiet and unsure. I’m doubting Rush’s intentions after Trace’s first lesson, that a boy will do anything to get inside a girl’s pants when they’re alone in the dark.
Rush seemed like a nice boy when he came up to me, all nervous, but what if it’s just an illusion?
I thought I had it all figured out, but then Trace dropped me like a hot potato as soon as we weren’t alone anymore.
It wasn’t my laughter. He didn’t want to be caught with a social pariah in his arms.
“Did Trace hurt you?”
My hand goes to my throat.
Rush takes my surprise the wrong way. Trace might be brooding and overbearing, but he would never hurt me.
“I’ll rip out his fucking throat. He’ll never speak to you again. Say the word, Sorrow, and I’ll make it happen.”
I shake my head. “He didn’t. Please, don’t.”
“He followed you. You two were out there forever.”
“We were talking about me moving to Alexandria or Montgomery after graduation. I haven’t decided yet.”
“You too?”
“Too?” I glance sidelong at him.
Rush can give Trace a run for his money in the looks department.
They’re complete opposites. Trace is lean muscle.
Rush is all bulk, his muscles straining against his shirt when he shoves his hands in his pants pockets and pulls his shoulders tight to his core.
He’s taller than Trace and has longish blond hair, with a few strands falling in his eyes.
His nose is crooked, likely from being broken.
“I plan on playing rugby for Alexandria U.”
“I thought DU was the best college in the state for that?”
“Yeah, but DU will be an extension of high school. All the same kids from here will go there, and I’m looking for a change. New folks. Big city living. A better nightlife. There’s Crimson nightclub in Alexandria. I’m hoping to follow in my cousin’s footsteps and get a job as a bouncer.”
“Aren’t those clubs twenty-one and over?”
He shrugs. “My cousin is tight with the owner. He’ll make an exception for me.”
“That’s nice.”
“It is. He might let me rent a room from him, too, saving me room and board.”
“I heard that if you’re really good at a sport, colleges will give you full-ride scholarships to play for them.”
“That’d be cool.” He stops walking. I do too.
We face one another. Rush jams his fingers through his hair and shifts from foot to foot.
“Um, Sorrow, my parents are wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner tomorrow?
I know we don’t know one another well, since we go to different schools, but my parents think you should get out more and meet new people.
I was going to ask when I saw you next at the auto parts store, but since you’re here .
. .” He shrugs his big shoulders. “I can pick you up.”
I should be grateful they’re thinking of me, but anger starts as a spark and flares into an inferno. “The Saints have been nothing but kind and gracious. How dare your parents think otherwise?”
I haven’t used the credit card they gave me or done anything to the bedroom that would show someone it was my room, but I won’t tolerate Rush’s parents believing the Saints are mistreating me or keeping me away from other people.
I chose to stay away from them and their judgment of my parents and me.
“It’s not that.”
“It is!” I’m not sure why I’m angry, other than the fact that Rush’s comments about Trace’s parents extend to Trace.
Does he think Trace treats me like shit? Trace can be indifferent and, on the flip side, brooding and moody, but what kid wouldn’t be after having another kid they barely know move in with him and his parents? And lately, I get all his parents’ attention.
“I should go. Trace is waiting for me. He’s my ride.”
Rush’s hand lands on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. Say yes to dinner. You won’t regret it.”
I blow out a breath and agree, but only to prove to Rush’s parents that I’m doing fine living with the Saints.
“Great. That’s great, Sorrow.” His hand falls from my shoulder to my waist.
Rush steps into my space. Cupping my waist, he lowers his head to mine.
My heart doesn’t flutter. My insides don’t tighten with anticipation.
I gently push him away. I’m not Trace. I won’t play with other people’s hearts.
That’s a lesson he hasn’t taught me. It’s what I’ve learned from reading my romance novels.
I’m picky about which stories I read, and love triangles and being unfaithful aren’t things I enjoy in my books.
Those books are a DNF for me. Trace and I have already agreed to be exclusive during the experiment.
“I don’t know you, Rush.”
“Then take the chance.”
I open my mouth to tell him I won’t, but Trace bellows my name.