Chapter 48
I END UP NOT GOING to school. My morning is spent in bed with the curtains down and a thick sheet draped over it to block out every bit of sunlight.
Bedroom lights off and the door shut, the blanket pulled over my head.
It does little to muffle surrounding noise but after eight o'clock, the neighborhood grows quiet.
A small bin with a garbage bag tucked inside sits at the side of my bed, left there before Mom's departure. She considered taking the day but decided against it after a solid ten minutes of me convincing her I'd be fine.
The migraine is disgusting. Medication barely eases it; I might as well not have taken shit.
By nine-thirty, I'm regretting letting Mom leave.
I throw up at least four times. My muscles spasm and numb for close to an hour.
I spend the late part of morning in nausea and reeling with dizziness, in tears because of how miserable I feel.
Sleep does not come easily.
When it does, I'd never been so grateful for the blissful nothingness of unconsciousness.
A QUICK SHOWER REJUVENATES ME. It's after four in the afternoon and neither of my parents have returned. Dad is working late on wrapping up some paperwork at his office. Mom is running a grocery errand for tonight's dinner menu.
I'm in the kitchen chowing down on a pint of ice cream when there's a commotion outside.
The rumble of a truck's engine is followed by the beeping of its reverse sensor.
Hopping down from the island counter, I cross the living room, ice cream pint in hand and the spoon in my mouth, shifting the curtain to peek outside.
Excitement bubbles.
My car is home!
When my parents noticed my car missing from the driveway on Friday evening, they'd queried as to its whereabouts.
I'd hesitated for a long while, deliberated on telling them the truth.
My parents are protective, my mother more so than my father.
They've enough to worry about, I didn't want to add more stress to their plates, but I couldn't lie to them.
Sooner or later, they'd find out. So, I told them what happened in the parking lot and what Blake did to my car. Mom was adamant about taking the matter to Principal Dalton, giving the man a piece of her mind about his – and I quote – 'good for nothing, piece of shit, disgrace of a son'.
My mother had been certifiably angry. She was seconds away from driving to Blake's house that very evening and it took Dad giving her Valium and my convincing her that all would be taken care of. She relented but she remained in a particularly sour mood over the weekend.
Dad was quieter. I'd been messaging Carter back and forth about my car, asking about expenses and how long it would take to repair damages but all I received in response were messages saying not to fret about it because they'd take care of everything.
Carter had been true to his word.
Black paint freshly waxed and polished, windshield and windows so clean they reflect part of the house and the tall tree behind it. She looks as beautiful as the first day she came home, yet better still because she returned with a gift.
Sky's black SUV is parked on the side of the road.
The driver's side opens and he steps out causing the spoon to nearly fall out of my mouth.
Maybe it's because I haven't seen him since Friday afternoon, but he looks ridiculously hot in black jeans and a fitted black jersey that hugs his waist, chest, and biceps.
His hair is a little on the mussed side, some falling over his forehead which adds a rebellious, dangerous appeal that makes my toes curl.
Putting the ice cream back in the freezer and dropping the spoon into the sink, I count the steps until I'm at the door, focusing on regulating my breathing and crazy beating heart.
It's not like I'm seeing him for the first time.
After Thursday night, there is no reason my body should be reacting this way to the mere sight of him.
Yet here I am, blushing hot and my mind reeling.
Expelling a deep breath, I gather what courage I can find and go outside, lingering at the step. He's in the driveway now, speaking with the driver of the tow truck, arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging, as they oversee the second workman lowering my car from the truck's ramp.
Without meaning to, my gaze homes in on his arms, tracing the vein that stems from his bicep traveling down his forearm in tributaries that end on the back of his left hand.
Before I know it, I'm sucked into a bubble where everything else goes mum. It becomes background noise and all that exists in my world is the fine specimen in all black.
I watch him continue to talk to the tow truck's driver.
When my car is safely parked in the driveway, the other workman steps out, tossing the keys to Sky who effortlessly catches it and hands an envelope over to the driver.
I snap out of my lovestruck haze when the truck rolls out of the driveway, the horn pops, and it speeds down the street.
Finally, Sky turns.
Heat rushes to my face. My heart pounds like booming thunder. He smiles and I swear to god I sway, bracing myself against the post to avoid falling over.
He holds up a finger and turns his back to me, heading for the SUV.
"Where are you going?" Thankfully, my voice comes out steady rather than meek or lustful. He would never let me live it down because I am one thousand percent certain he knows exactly how he affects me.
"I got you something." A moment later, he pulls two things out of his car and comes striding up the steps – confident strut with a slight sway to his torso and hips that sends my heart beating like a drum.
I raise an eyebrow, opting for a lighter tone despite my crazy beating heart or the color I'm sure is ravaging my face. "You got me roses."
"And chocolate cake I made from scratch." He balances the bouquet of white roses with green-sprayed edges on top of the cake container careful to avoid crushing it between us when he closes the distance.
Up close, I can see he hasn't been sleeping right. There are darkish circles beneath his eyes, but he shifts closer before I point them out or reach up to run a finger over his cheekbone.
His lips brush my nose, dipping lower, and finally, he presses a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. That's all it takes to have me turning into putty at his mercy.
"I'm sorry about Friday. I was a dick."
My nose scrunches as I take the bouquet and cake from him. "At least you know. Although, I don't think flowers and dessert is enough of an apology," I tease as he follows me inside. A deep rumble of a laugh reverberates in his chest, shooting ripples of pleasure through me.
He leaves his shoes at the door, bare feet padding softly across the living room to the kitchen. When I put the gifts on the island counter and turn to look at him, I approach the conclusion that there's something horribly wrong with me.
It's either I'm going through a phase, I'm hornier than I realize, or maybe I miss him more than I thought.
He's way too hot leaning against the opposite counter.
His arms are crossed over his chest as he observes me with a familiar intensity.
Mussed black hair falls across his forehead and I have the strongest urge to brush it away; to let my curious fingers wander and explore like they did on Thursday night.
A soft sigh heaves out of me.
Goddamn, he's gorgeous.
"How about a date?" he asks, his thumb and index fingers lightly touching the corners of his mouth, halfway concealing the boyish smile. There's curiosity in his eyes, if not hope. They suck me in and the world seems to tilt from pure shock or excitement or maybe both.
"A date?" I reiterate, sounding dumber than expected.
He holds up a finger. "I just realized, so much has happened between us. We've done a lot for each other these past few weeks."
"You mean, you've done a lot for me," I correct, guiltily tracing the edges of the rose petals, feeling the difference in texture between the natural white of the petals and the stiffer, green-sprayed edges.
They're pretty – my first time receiving flowers, actually.
And I wonder how he knows that green is my favorite color.
"Don't sell yourself short. Isn't that the way relationships go sometimes?"
Relationship?
My gaze snaps up. He frowns then laughs as if reading my thoughts.
"What, did you think this was a fling? Some kind of experimentation until the novelty wears off?" The curiosity in those blue eyes sharpen, a roguish tilt of his mouth that has my mind and heart freefalling into complete chaos.
"N-no...I wasn't thinking that. It's just...you caught me off guard." My heart pounds in my chest, growing so loud that it begins drowning out all other sounds. I'm certain Sky could hear it from across the kitchen.
"Isn't this what you wanted?"
Heat flushes my face and I chew on the insides of my cheeks not able to trust myself to open my mouth. Who knows what manner of sound is going to come out?
I certainly do not and I choose to save myself the utter embarrassment of looking like a lovestruck fool in front of Sky Daniels who has absolutely no business affecting me this way.
I haven't given myself the luxury of fantasizing about it too much. I knew I wanted more with him but now that the possibility of something profoundly real is at my doorstep, I realize my brain hasn't fully made the jump.
What would it be like in a committed relationship with him? How would it feel belonging to Sky Daniels?
He's one hell of a catch, that much is evident by the long queue of broken hearts he's left behind.
Tingles erupt across my waist to my shoulders. His lips ghost the back of my neck, and my eyes fall shut at the sensation of him so close, the natural heat of his body pressing into me.
Yes. This is what I want. This and so much more. All that he's willing to give.
"Let me take you on a date," he whispers against my skin. His arms fold around my waist and I lean into his embrace, finding that his presence has a way of rejuvenating me that showers or lengthy naps can't.
"When?"
"How about Wednesday evening? Give me a day to plan."
My nose scrunches as I turn in his arms. "I'm not sure about Wednesday."
Sky drops a kiss to my cheek.
"Ashton's throwing a party and he's invited me. Kind of like the first official bash to kick off the summer and also a celebration for becoming captain of the basketball team." When he doesn't respond, I look at him properly.
He's gone unfocused. He's looking at something over my shoulder, his body relaxed, and his stare blank.
It's like he's dissociated from me and the conversation.
Tapping his shoulder, I call out to him. "Hey, did you hear what I said?" After a heartbeat or two, his gaze flits back to me. "What happened just now? Where did you go?"
"I'll be honest, baby," he begins, grinning sheepishly, "I blanked out after the word party."
I don't know whether to be offended or laugh it off. His face says he's going for lighthearted – joking, even – but the intonation suggests otherwise.
He loathes the idea of Ashton's party.
"I'm not asking you to go with me," I defend.
He raises an eyebrow. "You think I'd let you step foot into a party alone?"
"Do you have a problem with Ashton?"
"It's not Meyers I have a problem with." He steps back to lean against the adjacent counter where the sink is, gripping the edge. "Harper's on the basketball team. Katy is his girlfriend. They'll be there. That's enough of a reason to not let you go there by yourself."
I shake my head, reflecting on what happened after the brief scuffle between Brent and me outside of the gymnasium. "I already took care of Brent. He won't trouble me anymore."
"It doesn't mean Katy will leave you alone. And neither will Blake."
He has a point but, "You really think Blake will be there? You broke his arm in like...four places."
Sky's head bounces backward and he lets out a mischievous cackle showing no remorse over his actions.
The sound is crude, vicious, and sends a chill sweeping down my spine reminding me that while Sky usually keeps to himself in public and shows a softer side toward me, he's capable of a breath-stealing kind of brutality.
And I must be fucked up in the head because as much as his brutality frightens me, I'm equal parts intrigued and turned on by it.
Or maybe I'm so far gone in my feelings for him that it doesn't bother me as much as it should.
"He's lucky I went easy on him."
Another chills sweeps over me accompanied by a shift indicative of a deepening attraction. My face grows hotter with the realization, and I clear my throat to distract from the thought.
"That was you going easy?"
He shrugs as if we're talking about something as trivial as the weather. "I don't fuck around when it comes to you."