I practically danced down the stairs, feeling like the hippo that’d been sitting on my chest decided to finally move on.
“Well, you seem like you’re in a good mood.” Grandma’s eyes followed my movements. “School was good today?”
“Yeah, actually. It was great.” Leting Jared know how much I’d been hurt by him let the frustration out. I no longer felt buried under his actions and my struggle to maintain a façade.
“Good. What are you in the mood for? Judging from your jeans, I guess O’Shea’s is out.” Her flat tone showed disappointment. O’Shea’s was her favorite restaurant in our less than diverse town.
“How about Mario’s?” I asked as I sat down to tie my shoes. I loved their pasta with basil and olive oil. The old couple that ran the restaurant was sweet and inviting, and my parents went on their first date there.
“Sure. Sounds good.” She grabbed her purse, and I snatched her keys. I always had to drive unless the situation didn’t allow it. Everywhere felt like forever to get to unless I was in control of the vehicle. Luckily, the adults in my life were indulgent.
As she stopped to fluff her hair and button her blazer in front of the mirror by the door, I slipped my arms through my cardigan and hooked my purse strap over my head.
“Gram? While we’re out, do you mind if we circle some lots, so I can check out some cars after dinner?” Finding a car hadn’t been on my mind in weeks, but the idea spilled out of my mouth like it had been on the tip of my tongue all day.
I couldn’t pretend that I needed the car to get around. After all, I had my dad’s Bronco. The control I’d asserted today was like slipping into new skin. Everything felt warm, delicious, and possible. Getting a car of my own was another dose of control, straight to the vein.
Grandma narrowed her blue eyes at me through the mirror. “Does your dad know you want to get a car?”
“Yeah, but I’m just looking right now, anyway.”
“You won’t want a car in New York City, honey,” she asserted, turning around to open the door.
“Is it okay if we just look? After all, I might still like a car when I come home for vacations.” I followed her out.
Turning to lock up the house, she nodded. “Sure, I don’t see any harm in looking.”
***
After a much-needed night out and light-hearted conversation with my grandma, I’d come home feeling calmer than I had in weeks.
I sat back on my bed, reading one of Chelsea Cain’s thrillers, when I heard yelping coming from outside.
My French doors had been open a crack, so I could hear the rain. The light drizzle that started when Grandma and I got home was coming down in buckets now. Swinging one of the doors open, I leaned outside and listened.
The barking was consistent, distressed…and close.
Madman.
As I peered down into Jared’s yards, I didn’t see any lights or sign of the little dog. The whole house looked quiet and dark. It was after eleven, so he and his mom must be asleep or still gone for the night.
Slipping on my Chucks, I walked down the stairs, taking a moment to check that my grandma’s bedroom light was off. Once at the front door, I switched on my porch light and walked outside.
Shit! It was raining.
How had I forgotten that in the three seconds it took me to get downstairs? Thank goodness for the covered porch. Hugging myself, I walked to the edge nearest Jared’s house and took another look. I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a small gasp at the sight of Madman whining and clawing at the front door. He was soaking wet, and I could tell from here that he was shivering. Luckily, he had a small awning protecting him from the thunderous downpour.
Without a second thought, I dived out into the storm and ran across our yards to Jared’s small front stoop. I only wore my sleep shorts and a tank top, so, like Madman, I was now shaking with the cold rain splattered on my bare legs and arms.
“Hey, buddy. How’d you get out here?” I bent down to pet his head, and he licked my hand excitedly. “Where’s Jared, huh?”
A shiver shot down my body, making my shoulders twitch.
The last thing I wanted to do was knock on the dickhead’s door, but there’s no telling what bullshit I’d wake up to if I took Madman home with me. Jared would probably accuse me of trying to steal his pet.
Madman had been collateral damage in Jared’s and my fallout. As much as I loved the dog, it just seemed like he should be with Jared. A few things had been like that after he came back from that summer away. One of our favorite hangouts was a fish pond at Eagle Point Park. When Jared and I stopped being friends, he stopped going there.
I got the pond. He got the dog.
“Jared? Ms. Trent?” I called while ringing the doorbell. The rain pounded to the ground, giving a flood-feel to our street. The howling wind forced the rain sideways, which soaked my shoes and calves, even under the awning.
I doubted anyone could hear someone scream in this ruckus, so I pounded on the door and rang the bell two more times. The house remained dark and silent. “Well, Madman. You may be coming home with me.” The little guy yelped again, clearly unhappy being outside.
Before I walked away, I gripped the door handle and turned. To my surprise, the door opened.
Not locked? Weird.
Madman darted inside, pushing the door completely open like he was running from a fire. His claws against the hard wood floors echoed down the hall. He’d gone to the kitchen, probably to his food dish.
I took a hesitant step into the foyer. “Hello?” The house was nearly pitch black except for the streetlights that cast a dull glow through the windows. “Ms. Trent? Jared?” I looked around and felt a chill shoot down my arms.
Something’s not right.
The house seemed almost dead. No ticking clocks, no hum of a fish tank. I wasn’t even sure if they had fish, but an occupied house makes some kind of noise, even in the middle of the night.
Madman barked, and I took a step towards the kitchen, but I stopped when I heard a crackle under my shoe. Taking a closer look, my eyes having adjusted to the dark, I noticed broken glass or…maybe it was pottery, on the floor. I surveyed the area and took in more disarray that I hadn’t noticed when I’d entered.
Chairs were overturned, a lamp was broken, and couch cushions lay about the living room. Even the framed pictures of Jared on the wall by the stairs were shattered and hanging by a corner.
Jared?! My heart pounded in my ears. What had happened here?
Madman continued to bark, more persistently this time. I ran down the hall and into the kitchen. The dog sat looking out of the open backdoor, whining and wagging his tail.
As I looked through the door, I could see Jared sitting on the top step leading down to the backyard. I let out a breath.
His back was to me, and he was drenched. Water poured down his bare back, and the hair on his head stuck to his scalp.
“Jared?” I called out, stepping up to the doorframe.
He turned his head enough to see me out of the corner of his eye, which was almost completely covered by his soaked hair. Without acknowledging me otherwise, he turned back around and lifted a liquor bottle to his lips.
Jack Daniels. Straight.
My first thought was to leave. He was safe. The dog was safe. Whatever he was doing wasn’t my business.
But my feet wouldn’t move. The house had been vandalized, and Jared was drinking alone.
“Jared?” I stepped outside, thankful for the covering over the backdoor as well. “The dog was barking outside. I rang the doorbell. Didn’t you hear it?” I guess I felt a need to explain my presence in his house.
When he didn’t answer, I walked down the stairs to face him. Rain cascaded down my face, drenching my hair and clothes. My muscles tensed with the urgency to get back inside, but, for some reason, I stayed put.
Jared’s head was level, but his eyes were downcast. His arms rested on his knees, and the half-empty bottle was secured i
n his left hand where he swung it back and forth between his fingers.
“Jared? Would you answer me?” I yelled. “The house is trashed.”
None of my business. Just leave.
Jared licked his lips, and the raindrops on his face looked like tears. I watched him as he raised his eyes lazily and blinked away the water.
“The dog ran away,” he mumbled, matter-of-factly. His voice was calm.
Stunned by such a cryptic reply, I almost laughed. “So you threw a temper tantrum? Does your mom know you did that to the house?”
His brow narrowed as he looked me dead in the eyes. “What do you care? I’m nothing, right? A loser? My parents hate me. Weren’t those your words?”
For a moment, I closed my eyes, feeling guilty all over again. “Jared, I should never have said those things. No matter what you’ve—”
“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted. Swaying as he stood up, he adopted his usual sadistic tone. “Groveling makes you look pathetic.”
Asshole!
“I’m not groveling!” I snapped as I followed him into the house. “I can just admit when I fucked up.”
I stood inside the doorway while he put his bottle on the kitchen table and grabbed a dish towel off the counter. Walking over to Madman, who was huddled underneath a chair, he wrapped the cloth around the dog and slowly dried him off. He continued to ignore me, but I couldn’t leave until I’d said what I needed to say.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you, and it won’t happen again.” There, I’d said it. No need for me to be here anymore.
But I didn’t stop there. My gaze fell on the not-yet-empty bottle of Jack, and I was worried. His mom was a recovering alcoholic, and hard liquor could be dangerous in large quantities. By the looks of the house, he was not in control of his faculties.
Snatching the bottle off the table, I walked to the sink and started dumping its contents down the drain. “And I’m not letting you hurt yourself, either.”
“Son of a bitch!” Jared heaved at my back, and I shook the bottle nervously when I heard his quick footsteps behind me.
Jared snatched at the container, which was still a few sips from being empty, but I spun around to face him, keeping hold.
“This is none of your business. Just leave,” he growled. His breath fell on my face, smelling of whiskey and rain, and his wild eyes made my arms go weak. I almost released the bottle, overwhelmed by the force he used to get it away. As he yanked, my whole body jerked.
Well, this is new.
The Jared I’d gotten used to walked around calm and collected, but this Jared was desperate and reckless. I should be scared, but, for some reason, I was intoxicated with the face off.
I wanted this confrontation with Jared. I hungered for it.
We both breathed hard as we tried to get the bottle away from each other, but no one was giving up. His arms flexed with the struggle, and I felt the bottle start to slip out of my fingers. I knew I was going to lose.
“Stop it!” I cried. Was the fucking bottle that important?!
Get a grip, jerk! He’d obviously lost control, and I needed to snap him out of this.
I let the bottle go and slapped him across the face. His head twisted to the side with the impact, and my hand stung. I’d never hit Jared. Not even when we were kids and playing around.
Stunned and furious, Jared dropped the bottle to the floor, forgotten, and turned his vicious eyes on me. I gasped when he hoisted me off of my feet by my waist and slammed me down on the hard edge of the sink. Before I knew it, he had locked my wrists in a hold behind my back and positioned his body between my legs. He pulled me to him, roughly, and I was trapped. My chest rose and fell quickly, desperate for air.
Oh, God. “Let me go!” I screamed.
My body was constricted between his arms in back of me and his torso in front. His grip was tight, enough to keep me still but not enough to hurt. I tried to twist and wiggle my way free, but he only jerked me harder against him and tightened his hold.
“Jared, let me go.” I tried to make my voice sound forceful, but with the struggle, my strength had dwindled.
His eyes met mine, our faces less than an inch away from each other. Several moments passed as he held me, trying to stare me down.
But it didn’t work.
Once my gaze met his, it was impossible to look away. His eyes were like the cover of a book—giving you hints but not the whole story. And I wanted to know the story. If I searched his eyes long and hard enough, maybe what I craved would seep out.
Damn it!
Even with the liquor on his breath, he smelled incredible. Like some kind of bodywash that I wanted to wrap myself up in forever. My thighs were cold where his wet pants rubbed, but the rest of me was on fire. Heat spilled from the pores on my neck, and a drop of sweat glided between my breasts where my chest touched his. Dizziness fogged my head with the pressure he was putting between my legs.
Our breathing matched up, and his expression was no longer angry.
He spoke shakily, almost sadly. “You fucked me up today.”
I assumed he was talking about the monologue. “Good,” I bit out.
He jerked me again. “You wanted to hurt me? Did you get off on it? It felt good, didn’t it?”
Was he talking about me or him?
I tried to keep my face even, but my body tingled everywhere. His scent was all around me as he leaned in. Our bodies were melting together, our lips were so close. When I felt him harden between my legs, I squeezed my eyes shut, too afraid of why I wasn’t struggling anymore.
Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and stared boldly at him, my pulse throbbing in my ears.
He’s nothing to me. Nothing.
“No, I didn’t get off on it,” I answered calmly. “I feel nothing. You are nothing to me.”
He flinched. “Don’t say that.”
The heat from his mouth wafted around me as I leaned in. “Nothing,” I repeated, barely a whisper. “Now, get off—“
His mouth crashed down on mine, drowning out my protest.
His lips devoured me, hard and fast, like I was being eaten alive. His tongue dived into my mouth, and I let it, needing to feel all of him. The pulsing sensation in my core quickened, and I wrapped my legs around his waist before I closed my eyes, savoring the release.
I tried to think, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. All the years that we’d been apart filled this one moment.
He released my arms, threading one hand roughly through my hair and the other gripping my ass. Pulling my hips harder against his, he assaulted my mouth like he was starving. He sucked on my bottom lip and then turned his attention to my jaw and neck in hot, frenzied kisses. A legion of butterflies took flight in my stomach, and I moaned with the pleasure.
And I kissed him back.
Oh, my God! I was kissing him back!
“Jared,” I gasped out. He should stop. We should stop. But I forgot why.
I was lost.
I tightened my legs around his waist and grasped his wet hair, holding him to me, while he sucked on my neck. His left hand ran down my thigh, and I brought his lips back up to mine again, needing more. Pressure was building as he pressed our centers together. He groaned, and I didn’t want him to stop. Ever.
When he bent his head to nibble under my ear, images of him and K.C. in the hall yesterday flashed through my mind.
This is what she felt.
Everything came flooding back. My eyes popped open as realization dawned.
He hurt me.
He hated me.
“Jared, stop.” My tone was meant to be stronger, but it only sounded desperate. He ignored me as he kissed and lightly bit my shoulder, while his hand moved underneath my shirt.
“Jared! I said ‘stop!’” Putting my hands on his chest, I pushed him away. He stumbled back a few steps, breathing hard and eyeing me like an animal.
Too far.
Jumping off the sink ledge, I nearly ran out of the
kitchen and the house. It felt like steam coming off my skin as the cool rain hit my arms and legs outside. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest as I made it to my front porch.
What are you doing?! I screamed to myself.
A hollow ache settled in my stomach, and a horrible void filled my arms where he’d just been. I’d let him kiss me. And feel me.
And I’d done the same to him.
I tried to catch my breath. How could I have let that happen? It was like I hadn’t even been in control! I knew what we were doing was crazy, but the feel of him made me forget everything. Even now, my body still craved him, and I hated that. Shame burned my skin where he’d touched me.
Jared always calculated his moves. Did he plan this? This was lower than I thought he’d ever go. He was probably in there laughing at me right now, knowing that he’d gotten my pride.
A thousand questions filled my head, but I pushed them away. No. One thing was certain: Jared couldn’t be trusted. He hadn’t even begun to make amends, and I was nauseous with humiliation.
That wouldn’t happen again.
Chapter 20
I rushed from one class to another the next day. My heart was in my throat—knowing that at any minute I could run into Jared—so I kept my eyes focused straight ahead. Literally.
All through French class it had been almost impossible to keep my mind off last night. His hands, his lips, his…
Nope. Not going there.
I had liked it. That much I was willing to admit. But why did he kiss me if not to prove that he could? And why the hell did I let him?!
I’d decided to treat it as a drunken move on his part, and an emotional breakdown on mine.
As I headed to lunch, I hurriedly stuffed my crap into my locker and jetted around the corner to the cafeteria, trying to keep my eyes from wandering.
“Oomph.” The air was knocked out of my lungs, and I stumbled to the ground.
What the…?