Chapter 9 Away #2
I glanced out the window and sighed at myself.
Westbrook was so pretty sometimes. Most people had taken down their twinkly lights, but lampposts streaked by, and the stars only got brighter the farther we got from the suburban center. The further we got from my failures.
I traced the back of Angel’s hand. “My parents don’t get too involved in our relationships either. Even with each other. They taught us to make good choices, but it was easier to let us sort ourselves out when they couldn’t manage it.”
“You seem to get along with the raven,” Angel said.
“Kat. Yes. Not that I don’t get along with Jen, but…maybe because she’s the oldest, she comes off as always wanting more ‘respect’ than an actual relationship,” I said. We’d barely touched on family dynamics in psychology classes.
“Did she have to babysit often?” Angel asked.
“Almost never.” If she had, she might’ve taken more precautions against getting pregnant.
“Is she jealous you’re hotter and smarter, then?” He brushed his thumb over my knuckles.
I faltered for a second and accidentally banged my knees together. Hotter? He’d never met, let alone seen Jen. He must’ve presumed Kat’s sexiness would outweigh any of ours, though.
“I-I’m not sure that’s it. Maybe we just don’t mesh. She and Kat shared a room for a few years, but Jen didn’t like anything too…off-center.”
“So, she didn’t like Kat,” he said.
I shrugged. “It could’ve been they didn’t have much in common. Jen always seemed annoyed when her friends took an interest in Kat, even if it was as innocent as complimenting her fashion sense.”
At one point, Jen had forbidden her Homecoming date to pick her up at the house so he wouldn’t meet her ‘weird’ sister.
It was ridiculous. Kat was nice enough to everyone.
She’d flash our guests a slightly feral smile, ask how we were doing, and go about her day.
Yeah, people stared at her. Usually in fascination. Maybe that was what worried Jen.
“She didn’t avoid me as much because her friends would only ask me about classes,” I said. Plus, I wore oversized jackets and leggings instead of band tees and fishnet stockings. “I was pretty tame by comparison,” I admitted.
He nudged my arm. “I think you’re secretly kinda naughty.”
I snorted. He’d been singing a different tune to his friends about me being too sweet.
“You don’t know me, Angel. Not really,” I said, dragging the hem on my skirt down.
“I’m a quick learner. Especially when I’m intrigued.” He glanced over, his eyes glittering with mischief.
Nerves lodged in my throat. “You still had to ask for my class notes.”
“Maybe I just wanted to talk to you,” he said.
I gaped at him. “You did not.”
He chuckled and let go of my hand to massage my thigh. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
That, I believed.
I scooted closer, my skin prickling with anticipation. “Is there anything I should know now?”
Like how much he wanted to be with me?
He pulled off the road to park, then wrapped his arm around me. “I love taking long walks on the beach.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled. Did he also love writing poetry? And picnics, surely.
I nudged his nose with mine. “Something real, please.”
He slowly caressed my cheek, his gaze wading across my face with almost melancholy fondness. “I’d ruin you, if you let me.”
I inhaled sharply.
Not hurt. Ruin. The girl who was too sweet.
“I doubt it,” I said, aggressively nuzzling into his palm. That was just another line of his. A self-defense mechanism. More dramatics.
He furrowed his brow and studied me, waiting.
I traced the grooves of his knuckles, careful not to make eye contact. “I’m not the sweet, selfless girl everyone thinks I am.”
“No. I remember a cute, feisty girl snapping at me in The Closette.” He chuckled, the citrus spices on his breath warm across my face as he pulled me closer. “I just meant that I have bad instincts when it comes to making you happy.”
My heart pounded. “You might be better at it than you think.”
“Is there anything you want me to know before we go any further?” he asked, his thumb tracing my bottom lip.
The dark waters of my mind churned more than the lake outside.
“I…”
A medical chart fogged my brain:
ICD-10 Code Z73: Patient has problems related to life management difficulty.
“I have bad instincts too,” I said, then pecked his cheek, my lips driving more of a puncture than a caress.
He stuttered a laugh and eyed me in the dark. Was that embarrassing?
I shed my sweater, hot from the fevered imitative it’d taken to touch him like that.
“Tori,” he said, his voice husky with want.
I had to do something. I had to get out of my head—and out of this car.
“I-I’ve never been skinny dipping, and I’ve always wanted to try it. Come on.” I popped open the door, then ran toward the beach.
Angel followed, our breathless laughter breaking through the chill air. “Maybe you’ll be the one to ruin me,” he called.
The only thing I planned to ruin tonight was any lingering doubts I was too sweet for whatever Angel could do with me.