For a second I’m stunned because he looks so serious. But then we both start laughing again. I cannot believe the amount of awesome brain chemistry I have floating through my system right now. I’m literally high on life, and it’s all thanks to Colin.
I’m bent over, holding on to his shoulder so I don’t fall on the ground, when the door to his apartment opens up.
Colin flicks the sheet down over the painting and stands up straight, causing my hand to drop back down to my side. I turn my head and see Rebel at the door.
“What’s up?” Colin asks, all signs of humor gone from his face and his voice. Suddenly it’s like that moment of sheer joy between us never happened.
“I need to talk to you for a minute. Let Mick take her home.”
Now my humor’s gone too. Stupid Rebel. “I’m not riding with Mick, thank you very much.”
“Then I’ll take you,” says Rebel. “And I’ll just talk to Teagan when I get back.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Well-played turd-basket. I glance at Colin but his face is a mask of nothing. Since I know that putting Colin in a position of going face-to-face with his brother is a bad idea, I sigh out my defeat. “Fine. I’ll go with Mick.” I grab my purse off the couch and walk over to the door. “But I’m not going to like it,” I say in Rebel’s face.
He doesn’t answer me or even act like he’s heard me, and I have to draw up my big-girl panties to keep from bapping him upside the head as I walk by. I grip my purse between my fingers for extra insurance.
When I get out into the hallway and the door shuts behind me, I stop. What am I supposed to do now? Go knock on Teagan’s door and tell Mick to take me home? Pffft. Like hell. Rebel’s not my father. Mick’s not my big brother. I do what I want, when I want. Fuck this place.
I text Teagan as I’m walking down the stairs.
I’m blowing this popsicle stand. Talk to you laters, taters.
I grit my teeth as I push open the door and go out into the night. I can do this. I can get a ride back. I’ll just call a taxi or something. I chew on my lip as I make my way through the parking lot, my heart beating faster and faster the farther I get from Rebel Wheels. It’s frigging dark out here and the shadows are coming to life around me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I’M WALKING DOWN THE STREET wondering how long it’ll be before someone either pulls over and offers me a fiver for a BJ or shoots me in the back.
Apparently, not long.
A car slows down next to me and I squeak with fright, jumping off the sidewalk and into the weeds. A man’s voice comes at me as I kick at the soggy cardboard boxes that are tangling themselves around my feet.
“Hey, sexy. Need a ride?”
I spin around, grabbing my purse to keep it close and ready to let loose a string of nasty cuss words, when I recognize the car. It’s a bright red mustang, one I’ve seen parked at Rebel’s place before. Mick is in the driver’s seat.
“Go away,” I say, getting my breath back and stepping onto the sidewalk. I walk as fast as I can in my heels.
He drives along slowly next to me, his arm hanging out of the window and hugging the side of the car. “Come on, Quinlan, don’t make me beg.” He’s laughing at me, I can tell by the tone of his voice.
“I don’t see what’s so funny. And stop calling me Quinlan. I’m not kidding.”
“Quin? Please? I don’t like you being out here alone.”
“I guess you should have thought of that before you acted so … stupid or whatever.” I’m worried he’s going to call me on my accusations, because looking back, I can’t really remember him acting stupid. In fact, right now my quickly sobering brain is telling me I might have been the one to act that way. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to blame him one hundred percent for it. I’m usually super cool when I’m not around him, so this is his fault, not mine. I cannot be held responsible for suffering from sex-brain-itis.
“I’m sorry,” he says, all traces of laughter gone. “Please forgive me.”
“No.” I don’t know why I can’t say yes. I want to say yes. I want to get in that car and get a safe ride home from a nice guy who stole a kiss from me earlier today. But something makes me keep walking away from whatever he’s offering. I’m not sure if it’s because I think he’s playing me or because I’m afraid he’s not.
The car disappears from my peripheral vision and a few seconds later the sound of a door shutting comes to my ears. I pick up my pace.
Jogging footsteps come up behind me.
I break into a high-heeled run. It’s not pretty. My purse is beating my ass, and my hair is turning into a giant dark frizzy helmet all around my head.
Mick pulls up even with me. “I can do this all night. Can you?”
I grab my purse off my shoulder and try to beat him with it as I run.
He ducks and swings around to jog on my other side.
I elbow him to try and shove him off the sidewalk.
He drops off at first, but then comes right up next to me again.
A shot of adrenaline surges through me when I hear him giggle under his breath, and I shove him like a football tackle dummy off to the side. As soon as his weight leaves my shoulder, I know I’ve pushed him too hard.
He loses his balance off the concrete sidewalk and trips on a pile of weeds and garbage next to it. He yells as he’s going down, and for a split second, he looks like Superman flying through the air.
I stop and scream, my hands flying up to my face as I see him hit the dirt.
“Oh my god!” I yell, jumping off the sidewalk and picking my way through the weeds over in his direction. “Mick, are you okay?” The guilt assails me. I cannot believe I just did that when all he was doing was joking around. Maybe I need to go to anger management class.
He’s not moving or responding.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” I continue to tiptoe through the not-tulips. “Shit, shit, shit, why did I do that?” I get to his side and squat down, pushing on his shoulder. “Mick are you okay? Seriously, wake up. You’re making me feel really bad.”
I’m not prepared for his sudden response. He flips over onto his back and grabs me by the upper arms at the same time.
As the ground gets closer, I scream, not at all looking forward to wrestling in the grimy dirt that borders the side of the road here. Out of the corner of my eye I see something that looks suspiciously like a used condom and scramble to keep from touching anything but Mick. That ain’t no deflated balloon animal.
I end up on top of him, my breath heaving out of my mouth and into his face. His hands are on my nearly bare ass because my dress has come up to gather around my waist.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he says, like we’re just hanging out on the beach or something, having a good old time.
“Mick!” I slap him on the chest repeatedly, frustrated with trying to beat him senseless while also trying to get up. “Dammit! Let me go, you ass monkey!”
He’s laughing too hard to respond and his hands stay put.
I finally get up on my feet, very unsteady, but mostly still dressed. I shove my skirt down to cover my unmentionables and adjust my purse so it’s slung across my body again. “You are a total penis, you know that?” I back up towards the sidewalk.
“Hey, don’t go,” he says, his arm held out and his voice still full of his good humor. He’s still lying on his back. “I need to apologize.”
I stop at the edge of sidewalk. “I’m pretty sure nothing you say will get me to forgive you for dropping my ass in the dirt with those condoms.”
He stands up and looks behind him, his laughter gone. “Condoms?”
“Yes. You have one stuck in your hair.” I storm off down the sidewalk, my mouth and nostrils twitching like mad as I try to hold in my smile of satisfaction. My last vision of Mick is him wiping and slapping away at his own head, trying to rid his hair of the imaginary condom.
“Nice one!” he says when I’m about ten feet away. And then he’s next to
me again. “I’m sorry, Quin. I’ll never call you Quinlan again, I’ll never scare your new boyfriends away again, and I’ll never do whatever else it was that pissed you off, ever again.”
My pace slows but I don’t stop. “You cannot apologize for things you aren’t even aware of. Those apologies don’t count.”
“I’ll be sorry for anything that makes you upset, I don’t care what it is.”
He sounds so earnest, I can’t keep running away. I stop and face him on the sidewalk.
“Mick, just what exactly are you after, huh? Just tell me. Let’s not play games anymore.”
“Games?” His half-smile is almost enough to make me forget what I was trying to accomplish, but not quite.
“Yeah, games. You know, where you pretend to be after me, you play around, maybe you get me and then you blow me off for the next conquest. Let’s not go there, okay? I have one more year of school left and I have to work my ass off to do it right, and I don’t have time to get my heart messed with or broken, especially by the brother of my best friend’s boyfriend.”
He stands there frowning at me for the longest time. When I’ve finally had enough, I hit him with my purse.
“Ow, what was that for?” He rubs his shoulder, but doesn’t move.
“For fucking with my head. Now, take me home.” I head back to the car as cool as I can, doing everything possible to walk straight and not look like a dirty hooker. A couple cars slow down before continuing on, so I’m not sure I’m doing a very good job of it.
Mick comes up next to me and walks with me, but says nothing.
My heart is burning in my chest. I’m not sure whether I should be proud of myself for putting it all out there like that or pissed that I acted like such an ass. I really want to call Teagan right now and ask her to psychoanalyze me over the phone so I can at least figure out which way is up. Being around Mick drops my IQ at least fifty points.
I’ve stunned him into silence, and I want to think that’s a good thing, but there’s no denying how crappy it makes me feel. Why am I so against just having a good time with him and damning the consequences? When did I suddenly become the kind of girl who cares whether a guy sticks around or not? I must be seriously PMSing. It’s probably one of those really bad menstruation cycles where I could have a psychotic break and go stab a neighbor with a garden hoe or something and wake up not remembering anything the next day. Maybe I should sleep handcuffed to the bed.
“What are you thinking right now?” Mick asks. I can feel his gaze on my face, even though I’m staring straight ahead.
I keep walking without looking over at him. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”
“I do, actually. Tell me.”
“I’m thinking I need to handcuff myself to the bed tonight.”
“Uhhh … okay. I guess I could arrange that.”
I try to whack him again, but he grabs my hand and won’t let it go.
“I wasn’t talking about with you, dipshit,” I say, trying not to smile.
“Oh. With who then?”
“Myself.”
“Now that’s just kinky.”
“Would you stop?” I turn to face him, still battling to keep the smile off my face. “Seriously. I know you’re a master player and I’m just not in the mood for it. I don’t have the strength to fight you off.”
He steps closer, keeping our clasped hands between us. “So don’t fight me off, then.”
I can feel his breath on my face. He’s had some alcohol to drink, but he’s not drunk. And now, looking into his eyes and feeling the heat coming from his body, I’m sure; he’s definitely making a move. The question is, what move is he making?
I lose my smile. “Mick, you need to understand something about me.”
“Okay, so tell me. I’m listening.” He moves just a fraction of an inch closer, and it makes me go hot all over in an instant.
Sweat breaks out between my shoulder blades. Is it humid out here or is it just me? “I am not in a good place right now. Normally I’d be all over this … whatever it is … but right now … I can’t. My best friend is wondering what the hell is going to happen with the rest of her life, I have to figure out a way to become self-sufficient soon so that someday in the probably not-too-distant future I can have Jersey move in with me, and I have to graduate and get a real fucking job. That leaves me exactly zero minutes in my day to get my heart broken. Do you get what I’m saying?” I want to cry right now. This totally sucks. I’m so lame.
“We all have shit that needs to get done. That doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun at the same time.”
“Maybe not for you,” I say, feeling bitter over my circumstances. Usually it just energizes me to think of all the things I’m going to do, but now all I feel is regret and unfairness at it all. Why can’t I just be a party girl who doesn’t give a shit about her future or her family? Just for one night, even?
Mick responds. “Definitely not for me and definitely not for you either. How about you just give me a chance and we take it from there?”
My new smile has a tremble to it. I’m afraid to hope for what he might be proposing. “Did you just ask me out?”
He smiles back. “I think it was more me asking for permission to ask you out. I’m a little to scared to go right for the asking at this point.”
“Permission not granted.”
“Come to the movies with me tomorrow night. My treat. I’ll take you out to eat after at a really cool place.”
“No.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
“No. I’m busy. Washing my bedspread … and stuff.” I have no idea where that came from. My brain has a tumor in it, apparently.
“Okay, then, I’ll just take Jersey instead.”
I yank my hand out of his, all my flirty happiness dissipating into thin air. “No!” I take two steps towards the car, beyond pissed. “See? This is what I’m talking about! You can’t ingratiate yourself into my family like that!” I feel like I’m about to lose it. If I don’t get a grip on myself soon, I’m going to be screaming and crying at the same time. Looney bin city.
“Why not? I like your family.”
“So?! Who cares! Go get your own family!”
His face falls and he steps back, like I physically rammed into him or something. “Yeah. Okay. I got ya.” He goes over to the car, leaving me standing there on the sidewalk like the total asshole I am. God, I hate myself right now. What is wrong with me?
“Mick, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” Who tells a foster kid to fuck off her own family and go get one of his own? Yeah. That’s me. I’m the dirtbag who someone should run over right now.
He opens the door and gets in, starting the engine up. It rumbles to life as I stand outside his door.
“Are you just going to leave me here?” I ask. I fully expect him to drive away and leave me in a cloud of exhaust, and I wouldn’t blame him for a second if he did. I’m definitely going to get a blue ribbon for biggest bitch of the night.
He faces out the windshield, his expression serious. “Get in the car.”
I want to stand there and beg for his forgiveness, but I don’t. Because I’m a coward, I do what he says instead and ride all the way to my house without saying anything.
When he pulls up to the curb, I put my hand on the inside door handle and turn to him. “I really am sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, staring out the front window. “I got the message loud and clear.”
I sigh and get out. There’s no point in trying to smooth this over. Besides, it’s for the best if he decides I’m a bitch and better left alone. The two of us getting together would only lead to heartache, and not just for me. I cannot imagine the pain Jersey would go through losing Mick when Mick decides he’s had enough of my nonsense. It would probably be worse than my own pain, and for that reason, I have to cut this thing off before it grows into something bigger and harder to end.
“Thanks for the ride,
” I say as I go up the front walk towards my door, walking backwards.
He drives away without a word, and my heart feels like it’s bleeding in my chest, it hurts so damn much.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MY MOM STICKS HER HEAD in the door to my room. I can see her through a crack in my covers. “Teagan’s here, sweetie. She brought you lunch.”
I close the crack made by my bedspread so I can’t see her happy face anymore. “Tell her I have ebola virus and to stay away.”
I hear some whispering that includes Teagan’s voice. The door to my bedroom shuts.
“Get up, you skanky ho. I have Taco Bell,” she says.
I peek out of my covers. I have always been unable to resist the siren song of The Bell, and she knows it. I’d pretty much dive into a pool full of oh-my-god-those-are-not-Baby-Ruths for home-delivered Taco Bell. Dammit. Teagan has brought out the big guns.
The fact that she barely has any money to her name tells me how far she’s willing to go for me right now. I resign myself to the fact that I have to respect that kind of dedication and eat every crumb of whatever she’s brought me. That’s what friends do for friends. I will just have to sacrifice.
“What kind of Taco Bell?” I say.
“Do you even need to ask?” she says with extreme confidence. “Meal deal number three … three tacos supreme with extra sour cream, a caramel apple empanada on the side, and a large root beer.” She holds the bag over my face. “Go ahead, smell those delicious meat byproducts. Try and resist my power.”
My hand snakes out of the covers to snatch the paper bag out of her hand. Once my bounty is secure, I sit up, dangling the steamy goodness above me. “You had me at Taco. Sit down, would ya?”
She takes a seat on the end of my bed.
Once I’m fully upright, I reach into the bag. I hand her everything that wasn’t just described to me as part of meal deal number three and hold my hand out for one of the sodas she has in a cup holder. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”