8. Troublemaker #3
The sounds of Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock & Roll” follow me from room to room as I finish up my laundry, grab the box of doughnuts on top of the fridge, and dance my way back upstairs.
Just as the song ends, I pop open the container to find only two pastries left.
Praise Jesus. They’re both vanilla Long Johns, my absolute favorites!
Another perk to being home alone.
If Dad or Derek had been here, this whole box would have been devoured within a day of it being brought into the kitchen.
I sink my teeth into the soft pastry, savoring the icing and cream, when a sharp knock strikes my window!
Okay, maybe it’s not “loud,” but in the absence of music and the fact that I’m supposed to be alone , the noise may as well be a blowhorn. Before I can even turn to look in its direction, I also can’t miss the sound of the window being pulled open .
My reflexes are better this time, because without a thought, I chuck the first thing I have at the sound…which sadly happens to be my Long John.
It seems I just might be making a habit of hitting Jase Rivers in the face, because that’s precisely what I do, again . My bar-shaped projectile smacks him in the forehead, and to my horror, he cowers back from the glass, dropping out of sight!
“Oh my god!” I wait for the horrible moment of impact when I hear Jase’s body hitting the ground…but it doesn’t come.
Just as I’m about to reach the window, he heaves himself up, his upper half practically spilling out onto the floor in front of me. “You have a funny way of saying hello ,” he huffs.
“Excuse me?” is all I can say, because, seriously, what the hell?
“If you’re going to chuck baked goods at me, you could at least have the decency to aim for my mouth.” He wipes the back of his hand over his forehead, where my precious vanilla icing and cream are indeed smeared. There’s even some in his hair.
I’m not sure what’s come over me. Maybe it’s low blood sugar or the fact that he’s scared the shit out of me again by showing up, but whatever the cause, my brain and body can’t process my anxiety like they usually would.
I should be a stuttering mess. Instead, I’m left with the consternation that can only be fueled by anger.
“How about you not invite yourself inside random people’s windows? ”
He actually has the gall to chuckle. “You also have a funny way of saying thank you , apparently.”
Seriously?
“Thank you,” I correct with a snarl, “for yesterday . As for right now, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t doing anything to warrant another drop-in.”
“Oh, but that would be where you’re wrong, Birdie.” The devil in his smile at those very words should have a field’s worth of red flags springing up in my mind, but against all better judgment, I still find myself annoyed more than anything else.
“Birdie?”
Jase winks. Actually winks .
Seriously, what is his deal?
“Between the events from yesterday and the fact that you have an apparent penguin fetish—” he motions to the massive collection of stuffed animals on my dresser “—I thought ‘Bird Lady’ would’ve been more appropriate, but that just reminds me of the crazy old woman down at Seva Park who talks to all the pigeons. ”
Jase chuckles, rising to his feet. Somehow, he looks even taller than he did yesterday.
It might have something to do with his outfit.
The last I saw of him, he’d been wearing loose clothes and simple black Chuck Taylors.
Today, however, he’s in a much more fitted black tee, accessorized only by dark denim and scuffed-up motorcycle boots.
The whole ensemble draws attention to every muscle in his body.
Though he’s far from being bulky, I’d be lying if I said his size and build aren’t daunting.
To be fair, when you are five-foot-nothing and lucky to weigh ninety pounds soaking wet with bricks in your pocket, it doesn’t take much to do the job, but still…
I try to stand my ground, taking up as much space as my diminutive body will allow. Let’s just say the effort is laughable at best. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by, see how you were doing.”
“And you had to do that by going through the window why ? I could have been indecent.”
He has the nerve to laugh. Then, to my complete and utter horror, he flicks open the lid to my breakfast and proceeds to take a bite of the last Long John before I can so much as sputter a syllable!
“I was cutting through your yard again and spotted you through the kitchen window. I tried to get your attention, but you clearly couldn’t hear me knocking.
Nice song choice, by the way. I especially enjoyed the show that went with it.
” He whispers that last part, dropping into my desk chair like he owns the place.
Oh my god.
No.
No, no, no, no, noooo!
Jase Rivers did not just witness me dancing!
Please, God, you can’t be that cruel!
Considering the shit-eating grin plastered to Jase’s face, I’d say He can.
I can only pray that the embarrassment reddening my cheeks can be masked by my growing anger. “What do you want?”
“A few answers.” His gaze and pointer finger both flick down to my legs, of all things. “Say, for instance, do you have Mutant X healing powers?”
“Huh?”
“Word on the street is you dropped out of the class trip due to a broken leg. Some even say Sienna’s the cause.
” He again whispers that last bit, like it’s a huge secret.
“But given the little number you displayed downstairs and the fact that you’re not wearing a cast, I can only assume you have some kind of rapid healing abilities.
Because, surely, you wouldn’t lie to get out of the Italy trip.
” Oh, the sarcasm is strong with this one.
“It was my ankle,” I counter. “And it’s just a sprain.”
“Well then, you must have ankles of steel, because I’ve had more than a sprain or two in my day, and never have I been tempted to go full-on Tom Cruise and reenact Risky Business .”
I don’t hold back my glare. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Seriously, for the record, I’m wearing more than a shirt and underwear, and there were no couch antics involved in my display downstairs.
“Oh, I thought it was rather adorable, actually.” The self-satisfied smirk on his lips as he takes another bite of my Long John only has me itching to hit him in the face with something much heavier than a pastry. “Did Sienna really scare you off from going on the trip?”
When all he receives is another glare, he finally has the decency to hold up his hands.
“Hey, I’m not saying I blame you. She was a nightmare the entire weekend.”
I know I shouldn’t ask, but with my anxiety, I’m frequently told I make a bigger deal out of things than they really are. “What do you think would have happened if I had gone on the trip?”
“Well, when she thought you were still going, Sienna was plotting to put hair remover or something into your shampoo,” Jase admits, “so I’d say you dodged a bullet.”
And say hello once again to my anxiety. “Yeah, aren’t I lucky? I avoided my hair falling out via chemicals just to have some crazy bird rip it out of my scalp instead.” I thumb the part of my head that’s still a bit sensitive. “Sienna’s not still mad, is she?”
Jase grimaces. “Count yourself lucky she doesn’t remember what you look like.
Sienna couldn’t find you on social media, and I wasn’t about to point out that she could find you in the school’s directory app or a yearbook.
All she knows is that you have dark hair and glasses, so the entire time at the lake party, she kept scaring the shit out of any girl she thought was you, even after she learned you weren’t going on the trip. ”
Which explained why some people thought that Sienna was the cause of my “injury.”
Lovely.
But wait…
“Why would she still be that angry?” I ask. “She got everything she wanted.”
Another grimace. “Rumor has it that you’ve been talking shit about her all over town, saying that she’s ‘an entitled, prissy bitch who needs to be put in her place.’”
Huh?
I find myself blinking several times before my brain manages to compute what he just said, because huh? “I never said that about her! Hell, I haven’t talked to anyone, period!”
At this, Jase actually chuckles. “Yeah, I figured as much. Didn’t sound like something you’d do, but then again, Sienna knows how to push everyone’s buttons. I’m just happy that I don’t have to deal with her for the next four weeks.”
I have to rerun the words through my head, feeling all the more confused. “Wait, why aren’t you on the trip?”
“Similar reason to yours, I suspect.” He downs half the Long John in one massive bite, and the sight is enough to make my insides cry.
What would possess someone to do that? What’s the point of eating something delicious if you don’t intend to savor the taste?
Jase obviously misconstrues the visual daggers I’m throwing at him as skepticism. “Let me guess, you heard I’d been grounded over something having to do with four wheels and a bottle of whiskey?”
His little “indiscretion” had crossed my mind, but I also couldn’t imagine one of the Untouchables or even their allies ever dealing with something as banal as parental punishments.
“What you heard is bullshit. The truth is…I was paired up with Easton for the trip.” He says this like the words have weight to them, which makes even less sense.
“ So? Isn’t Trent, like…your god or something?” Yeah, I blame my blood sugar, because my words are dripping with sarcasm. Not the best time to be a smartass.
Thank God Jase has a far better sense of humor than I gave him credit for, given that he actually laughs. “Trent definitely likes to think so.”
“Still, isn’t he one of your best friends?”
Jase lets out a long, exhausted breath, and for a minute, I don’t think he’s going to answer. When he finally does, he simply says, “I needed a break.”
“You passed up going to Italy for a break ?” I know it sounds hypercritical since I dodged the trip, too, but there’s a big difference between fearing Sienna Hawthorne may bust your kneecaps and just wanting some R&R.
Jase shrugs. “I told everyone I got in trouble with the ‘rents and that they wouldn’t let me go on the trip. The rumor mill filled in the details, and I didn’t bother correcting anyone.”
He polishes off the last of my pastry and returns to the window, resolute in…whatever decision he’s made.
“You’ve got five minutes,” he announces.
I just stand there, staring at him with the kind of blank expression that probably ensures I look like an idiot. “Is that a threat?”
Seriously, were we going to recreate The Most Dangerous Game , where Jase would give me a head start before he hunted me down and killed me? Because that sounds far more in keeping with a visit from the Untouchables’ top lieutenant than a casual conversation over breakfast.
But Jase looks back at me like I’m even worse than an idiot. He’s looking at me like I must be high. “What? No, we’re leaving.”
“We are?”
He doesn’t miss the fact that I’m slowly backtracking to the door, ready to bolt, and the sight only makes him laugh. “I’m not here to bite you, Birdie. I’m helping you fly the coop.” Jase nods towards the window. “Come on.”
“But I’m not supposed to leave—”
“Said Mother Gothel. But what does dear old Rapunzel want to do?” he quips, tugging softly at the bottom of my hair. “Stay locked up in her ivory tower, or go on an adventure with a charming swashbuckler?”
The warning bells may have quieted somewhat in my head, but I still can’t quite rid myself of suspicion. “This is supposed to be charming ?”
Any other girl would be swooning over the fact that Jase Rivers was in her bedroom, but given his reputation and the fact that all he’s done is scare the shit out of me, my going “weak in the knees” has a whole lot more to do with spiking adrenaline than giddiness.
“Tell me you want to be left all alone here, waiting for your Stepmonster to get home, and I’ll leave.”
It’s a challenge.
“I have no idea when she’ll be back.”
And there’s that roguish grin the female populace melts over. “That’s half the fun in leaving.”
Damn him and that smile.
I look between Jase and my nightstand. “One condition.”
“Name it.”
“You owe me breakfast.”
He slips my hand into his, and I find myself being led toward the window. “Deal.”