Chapter 15
RIGGS
Then
Beck gave me his truck keys a few hours ago.
My mom wants me to take all of Tag’s shit home—you mind doing it for me? I have to talk to Reese about something…
Even though I’m pretty sure that I have to talk to Reese about something means Reese and I are going to sneak off somewhere so we can make-out, I say yes without hesitation because 1) Beck is my best friend—of course I’m going to have his back.
2) I’ve been wanting to drive his truck—a blacked-out F-350—since I got my license last month, and 3) I haven’t seen Gemma in weeks—not since the night I walked her home—because even though she made it a point to make sure I knew that she didn’t want things to get weird between us after what she said, I’m pretty sure she’s been avoiding me, which means we’re hip-deep in weirdness.
“Sure.” Taking the set of truck keys, dangling from his fingers with a grin, I take a quick look around, catching sight of Reese, waiting for him by the gate that leads to the golf course. “I can do that.”
“Thanks.” Relinquishing his keys, he starts to back away from me. “I know it’s her party and all, but see if you can talk Tag into going with you—Ethan’s been following her around all day. I don’t like it.”
I give him a puzzled frown like I have no idea what he’s talking about. Like I didn’t clock that little douchebag, the second he showed up. Like I haven’t been watching him loiter around Gem’s lounger with this friends while she hangs out with Emily, for the past hour.
Ethan Pryce tried to kiss me at the club pool last weekend—maybe if he tries again, I’ll just go ahead and let him.
“I can try,” I tell him with a laugh to cover up the fact that I’ve already decided I’m not taking no for an answer. When I leave, Gem’s coming with me because there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her here to get kissed by Ethan fucking Pryce.
“Thanks, man. Don’t worry about coming back to get us—I’ll have a club car drop us off.” Beck leaves me standing poolside while he hurries off to join Reese, the two of them disappearing through the gate that leads to the golf course.
Now, here I am, driving Gemma and her mountain of pricy birthday gifts loaded into the bed of Beck’s truck, home, mad as hell because?—
Yeah, let’s talk about why you’re so pissed, Riggs. Let’s talk about why, when you saw Ethan standing over her—touching her—you very nearly killed yourself a creeker.
“You did it, didn’t you?” I haven’t said a word to her since I found her in the grotto with Ethan.
Found her? You didn’t find her. You followed her.
No.
I followed Ethan.
It was all good—I was all good—letting Cheyenne Maxwell talk my ear off about her family’s summer trip to the French Riviera—while I pretended not to notice Emily and Gem say their goodbyes before Gem dove into the pool to swim her way under the waterfall and into the hidden alcove behind it.
I stopped pretending when Ethan dove into the water and followed her.
“Did what?” Gem asks, her tone full of innocent confusion. She might fool her brother with that bullshit, but she’s not fooling me.
“Don’t give me that horse shit, Gem,” I practically growl it at her.
“You know exactly what you did.” Hands gripped around the steering wheel, I shake my head, eyes glued to the long winding drive in front of me.
We’re almost to her mother’s house, one of the exclusive, ridiculously lavish estates that surround the golf course, she inherited from her parents.
“You kissed Ethan Pryce even though I told you not to.”
Making a harsh, ugly sound in the back of her throat, I watch Gemma turn to look at me, a moment before her house—a huge, modern monstrosity composed of sharp lines and more glass than you’d think was prudent on a golf course—comes into view.
“First of all, Riggs Wheeler, you don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t kiss,” she hisses at me from her seat next to me.
“And second—I didn’t kiss Ethan—Ethan kissed me. ”
Pulling up in front of the house, I slam on the breaks and throw it into park before I let myself look at her.
“But you let him, right?” When I say it, something tightens in my gut.
Something that makes me wish I’d given in and ripped that motherfucker’s head off when I had the chance. “You did let him, right? He didn’t?—”
“Yes,” she says it quietly. “I let Ethan kiss me.”
I wish hearing her say that made me feel better.
It doesn’t.
Somehow, hearing her say she wanted him to kiss her makes it a million fucking times worse.
“Hmmm…” Ugly noise vibrating in my chest, I kill the engine before I look at her again. “So?”
Shifting back in her seat when she sees the look I’m giving her, Gemma shakes her head. “So what?”
“So how was it?” I’m being a dick but I can’t seem to help it because Gemma Pierce had her first kiss.
Because I wasn’t the one to give it to her and for some fucked-up reason, the thought of it feels like a thousand rats chewing up my insides.
“Was getting kissed everything you thought it would be?”
“No.” Still looking at me, Gemma gives me another head shake. “Actually, it was pretty fucking terrible.”
Good.
I’m glad.
I’m glad it was terrible.
Before I can say it out loud, the front door opens and her mom steps out on to the porch, a puzzled look on her face when she sees me behind the wheel of her son’s truck, her daughter riding shotgun.
“Come on.” Leaving the keys in the ignition, I pop my door open because being closed up in the cab of this fucking truck with her is suddenly the last place I should be right now.
Reaching into the back seat, I find my discarded T-shirt and pull it on.
“Let’s get this shit unloaded so I can go home. ”
It took almost thirty minutes to unload Gem’s birthday gifts—designer clothes and shoes.
Expensive purses and high-end electronics from all the Clearwater kids.
Grocery store cards with whatever money they could bare to part with or recycled gift cards from kids who live on the other side of the river.
So much stuff, I could sell it and probably pay my parent’s mortgage for a year.
I didn’t get her anything. I usually leave that up to Cam.
Even though I knew they’d been fighting, I just automatically assumed that she’d take care of it because she always does.
Deciding not to think about it, I unloaded the back of Beck’s truck, carrying bags and boxes to Gem’s room, piling it all on her huge, unmade bed.
Cam was right—Gem’s room is huge. Like Beck’s, it’s more like an apartment with its separate living room and kitchenette, than an actual bedroom.
Hanging out with Beck all weekend, playing video games and plowing through a seemingly endless supply of junk food, I’ve never felt out of place.
Never felt the divide that money and the river puts between us.
Standing in Gemma’s room, surrounded by expensive gifts piled onto her giant bed, I feel it.
I feel just how much I don’t belong here.
“Thank you so much for your help, Riggs,” Gem’s mom says while she walks me to the door. “It’s Johnathan and Rebecca’s day off today so all that stuff would’ve just sat in the foyer until Monday if you hadn’t come along.”
Johnathan and Rebecca are the help. They work for Ms. Pierce, five days a week, taking care of everything and anything she might need.
Like the Sorensons, they live in Barrett.
“Happy to help, Ms. Pierce,” I say, giving her a head bob along with a polite smile.
Even though she left Beck and Gem’s father before Gem was even born, she kept Pierce as her last name.
I don’t know why, but knowing that always made me like her for some reason.
“Because your mother raised you right,” she says while pressing something into the palm of my hand.
Money.
I know it’s money because it’s always money. Every time I help out around here—take out the trash on a Saturday or skim the pool after we use it—she always finds a way to give me money.
I told her once that it isn’t necessary. That I don’t do it because I expect to be paid. I do it because I practically live here most weekends and it’s only fair that I pull my weight. She just smiles and said what she always says—because your mother raised you right.
“I know it’s not necessary,” she says before I can refuse. “But you’re going to take it anyway.”
Swallowing my argument on a head bob, I shoved the folded bill into the pocket of my trunks before I reach for the door. “Yes, ma’am.” Pulling it open, I find Gem waiting for me in the front seat of her brother’s truck.
What the shit?
“You don’t mind driving Gemma to Dent’s, do you?” Pulling the door out of my grip, Ms. Pierce moved forward, pushing me onto the porch. “It’s his weekend.”
Mind?
Yeah, I mind.
I fucking mind because closed up in the cab of Beck’s truck with Gem, thinking about Ethan Pryce putting his fucking mouth on her while we make the thirty minute drive across the river is the last place I should be.
“Sure.” Throwing her a flat smile over my shoulder, I make my way down the front walk.
“Thanks, Riggs,” her mom calls out from the doorway. “Tell your mom I said hi.”
She always says it.
Tell your mom I said hi even though I’d bet the two of them haven’t talked face-to-face since Ms. Pierce left her husband and moved back to Clearwater.
“I will,” I call out before I climb back into the driver’s seat and slam the door closed behind me.
“She give you money again?” Gem says it to the window she was watching us through.
Starting the truck on a short, uncomfortable laugh, I shake my head. “Yeah,” I answer her while I shift into drive and the truck starts to roll forward. “I learned a while ago that it’s easier to just?—”
Jaw set, Gem flicks me a quick look before she reaches for her door handle, intent on jumping out. If not for her seatbelt, she’d be face down in the driveway.
“Whoa.” Slamming on the brakes, my arm shoots out to wrap a hand around her wrist to stop her from throwing herself out of a moving vehicle. “The fuck, Gem.”
“I changed my mind,” she says, wrist twisting uselessly in my grip. “I don’t want to go to Dent’s this weekend.”
“Bullshit,” I shoot back. “When do you ever not want to go to Dent’s?
Besides—don’t you have a shift at June’s?
” I don’t have to ask. I know she does. She works at the diner every day after school, 4-9 and every other weekend, noon to six.
I don’t even want to think about how crazy knowing her work schedule makes me feel.
“Since now.” When she realizes she’s not going anywhere unless I decide to let her go, Gem shoots me a quick, murderous look. “Let go.”
“You said you still wanted to be friends,” I remind her. “You said you didn’t want things to get weird, Gem. You said?—”
“And then you decided to be a dick because I let Ethan kiss me,” she shoots back. Lifting the arm my hand is latched around, she pulls it to her mouth and sinks her teeth into the heel of my hand, biting down.
“What the fuck—are you biting me?” I start to laugh, which is a mistake because the sound of it sinks her teeth into the fleshy part of my hand, deep enough to hurt.
“Shit—okay, so maybe I was a dick because you let that fuckstain kiss you—or maybe I was a dick because you’ve been avoiding me for weeks now.
” It’s a lie. I’m hurt over the fact that she’s been avoiding me but I didn’t get angry about it until I saw the way Ethan was touching her.
Instead of retracting her teeth so she can argue back like I’d hoped, Gemma just narrows her glare on my face and applies pressure until she breaks skin.
“Fuck.” Refusing to let go, I bellow it while I tighten my grip, trying not to think about what this whole crazy thing looks like from the outside, looking in.
If Gem’s mom saw the way we’re fighting right now, she’d definitely stop singing my mom’s praises over how she raised me.
“I hope you like the taste of blood because that’s all you’re gonna get. ”
For one insane moment, I’m sure Gemma is going to keep going until she really does draw blood, but then all of a sudden, she stops.
Lifting her head, she pulls her mouth away from my hand. “You’re right. I have been avoiding you.” Looking at me, she shakes her head on a sigh. “Things between Cam and me have been getting worse and I didn’t want to put you in the middle of it.”
Gemma hasn’t been avoiding me because she and my sister have been fighting and we both know it. She’s been avoiding me because she asked me to kiss her a few weeks ago and I freaked out. Not because I didn’t want to kiss her.
No, I freaked out because I did.
Suddenly feeling like a miserable prick, I shake my head. “Gem?—”
“You can let go now.” Using her free hand, Gemma pulls the car door closed before settling back into her seat. “I’m not going to try to jump out of the truck again. I promise.”
Not trusting her, promise or not, I hit the automatic door lock and toggle the safety switch to keep them that way before I let her go.
Instead of launching herself at me like I’m sure she’s going to, Gemma settles back into her seat, her gaze aimed out the passenger side window, the picture of docility.
Which is complete bullshit.
“You bit me,” I growl at her while I reach over with my abused hand to shift the idling truck into drive.
“And you grabbed me,” she counters with a shrug, still staring out the window.
I look at her like she’s completely crazy even though I have a feeling I’m the one who’s acting crazy. “Because you tried to jump out of the fucking truck—while it was moving.”
Instead of arguing the point that she wouldn’t have felt the need to jump out of a moving vehicle if I hadn’t been such an asshole, Gemma laughs. “Hope you’ve had your shots.”
And that was it.
The exact moment I fell, headlong, in love with Gemma Pierce.