The bell rings, ending lunch. Matt and his pack of wolves leave the table.
Haley closes her eyes and lowers her head into her hands. Not the reaction I hoped for.
Haley
I’m second bus run. When we lived in our old house, my home, I was first. That was back when things were simpler. Back before I started dating Matt and when Jax, Kaden and I weren’t at each other’s throats. Back when they could at least look at me...unlike now. Today, when they left to hop the city bus to train at the gym, they didn’t even mumble goodbye.
I sit away from everyone else. After my breakup with Matt, I can honestly say I don’t mind being alone. His version of attention left scars. I suck in a deep breath, missing the relationship I had with Jax and Kaden. Even worse? I miss who I used to be.
Both my knees bounce as I wait on the bench outside the loading dock. Blowing warm air onto my hands no longer helps. They’re frozen for good. We go so many days without seeing the sun during the winter it’s easy to believe it no longer exists.
“Haley.”
My heart stalls at the sound of West’s voice. Dear God, is he always so gorgeous? Especially now with his hat on backward and those ocean-blue eyes twinkling at me. Teeny-tiny wings flutter in my chest when he drops onto the bench beside me. He’s close. Superclose. Like his jeans touching mine close. Heat rolls off his body and I sort of crave to snuggle up to him and steal his warmth.
“West,” I respond. Good girl. Act casual.
I should move. At least an inch. Prove to us both that I have an inkling of self-respect. But I don’t. He’s warm and...well...dammit, he’s cute. I rub my hands together, half wondering if I should thank him for what happened at lunch or if I should punch him for getting involved or if I should press my fingers to his face and save myself from frostbite amputation. I seriously want to do all three.
“Would you like a lift?” he asks.
“You really don’t listen, do you?” I try to bend my fingers, but they’re so cold they’re swollen. “I told you Friday I don’t ride with strangers.”
“Well, you are my girlfriend.”
I choke on the laugh that bubbles up my throat. West smiles and I have to admit it’s a sweet sight on his face.
“You realize,” I say, “that after what happened at lunch we’re both undeniably screwed.”
“It was an interesting first day.” He stands and extends his hand. “Come on—let me drive you home.”
I accept the offer and I hate the way my insides palpitate when his fingers wrap around mine.
“Jesus, your hands are ice cubes.” West’s hand flinches away from mine, and, with red cheeks, I pull my hand back, but West denies my retreat and reclaims my fingers.
“Don’t. It’s okay.” I yank to free myself, but I’m unsuccessful. “I’m just cold.”
“No shit. Gloves could help.”
I don’t have gloves. If I did, I’d wear them, but I lost them when we lost the storage unit. Ticked off by the reminder, I start to inform West the exact route to hell he can take when he draws my hand toward his lips.
The world stills when he opens his mouth and blows hot air onto my skin. My eyes widen, my toes curl and my blood explodes with heat. Holy freaking crap.
Staring straight into my eyes, he blows onto my hand again. My fingers tingle with the warmth, with his touch. His thumb sweeps over my skin and my heart skips too many beats.
“You’ve got smooth skin,” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” I whisper. Yeah.
Um...what? I blink. We are overly close, like if either of us moved, clothes would be against clothes, and I like the thought of his body brushing against mine way more than I should. I extract my hand from his. “I don’t mind cold hands.”
He smirks. “You don’t?”
“No, I don’t.” I beeline it for his car and moronically stumble over a parking curb. Then, for giggles, I trip over my own feet. At least I stay upright—barely. “They’re always cold, even in the summer.”
West says nothing as he walks beside me, but he does watch me with an amused grin. Twice his hand flies out to grab me if I should fall. I hate him. I like him. I wish I wasn’t so pathetic.
“I’m used to it.” I glance around, wishing Marissa would pop out of thin air because friends shouldn’t let friends ramble and stumble. I massage the hand he blew on. It’s like the skin there is now hypersensitive. “It’s not a big deal since it’s normal.”
Because I can’t stupidly zip my lips, I go on to say, “My hands are always cold. It’s genetics. My mom has cold hands and her mom had cold hands. Bad circulation or something like that.” Shut the eff up, Haley!
West pushes a button on his key chain and the lights on his Escalade flash. Like a gentleman, he opens the passenger-side door. “Good to know.” There’s a sparkle in his eye that matches the smug smile.
“What?”
The grin widens. “The cold hands. The genetics. All good things to know.”
I smile widely because I don’t know what else to do. Kill me now. West shuts my door and I knock the back of my head three times against the seat. He climbs in and I smile falsely again. He chuckles and I die of mortification.
When he starts the car, rap pounds from the speakers, causing the frame to vibrate. He turns the radio off, turns up the heat and points the vents at me.
The rich smell of leather wafts in the air and every electronic and computerized gadget embedded in his dashboard intimidates me. “This car is quiet. It’s like the motor isn’t even on.”
“My sister, Rachel...” He pauses and switches the hand he drives with. In the short amount of time I’ve known West, this is the first time he appears unsure. “She’s great with cars. Anything good about this thing is because of her.”
“That’s cool.” And unusual. I’ve never heard of a female mechanic, but who has ever heard of a female fighter?
West grows grim and we sit in awkward silence. His sister must be a sore subject and, because of Kaden and Jax, I can highly appreciate that.
Murphy’s Law dictates we hit every red light. After one particularly long light, I tap my fingers against the door and replay the events of the cafeteria. Should I be mad or grateful to West? To be honest, I’m both, but still, there’s this nagging inside me that if he had gone along with the original plan...
“Why didn’t you listen? Friday night or in the cafeteria? If you had just listened to me once you wouldn’t be in this mess and I wouldn’t have to bail you out.”
His head jerks. “Did you say bail me out?”
“Yep. Bail. Like a bucket and a boat with a leak.”
“Nah. You’ve got it wrong.” West readjusts the hat on his head and his jaw solidifies into steel. “You don’t like accepting my help.”
“I don’t need your help. What I need is for you to listen to me.”
The incredulous glance from the corner of his eye causes my skin to crawl. Cocky bastard.
“If you had acted like we were talking,” I say, “I would have made it and we wouldn’t be here.”
“You don’t know that.” He floors the gas when the light turns green.
I stop tapping and bang my hand against the door. “I got hurt anyway. I got hurt and I lost my father’s medication and I had to hit someone. Something I swore I’d never do again. Now my father is a wreck, my cousin and brother hate me more than normal and I have to worry about you dying in two months.”
“I am not weak!” He slams on the brakes at the next red light.
My body lurches against the seat belt then smacks into the seat. “I never said you were.”
“Yes.” His blue eyes burst into twin flames. “You did. The moment you begged Matt to back off, you announced to the world I’m weak.”
A grunt of disg
ust leaves my throat. Boys. Stupid boys with their stupid egos. “You’re mad because I saved you.”
Because a girl saved him. Revolted, I cross my arms over my chest. God, the countless times I’ve seen that same look on the faces of guys at school. I’m the fighter—the girl who can throw a punch. Sure, they’ll say it’s cool, but their egos require that they be the protector.
The light switches to green and West floors it again, causing his engine to roar in anger. “Even if I had pretended to chat it up with you, they still would have followed.”
“It would have worked.”
“And you know everything?” he snaps. “If I didn’t follow, then I would have thought about how they beat the shit out of you and how I was to blame—that I failed. Again!”
I’m mad. Shaking mad. So mad, I shouldn’t open my mouth, but I do, and I scream at the top of my lungs. “I obviously can take care of myself.”
“How the fuck was I to know that?”
The car behind us blares his horn when West cuts him off.
“I hate you,” I mutter.
“Right back at you.”
He pulls into the neighborhood and before me is the spot where our worlds collided. One second earlier or later and maybe I could have avoided Conner and his friend. One step in the other direction and West would have never almost plowed me over.
Nausea disorients me and I lay a hand over my stomach. Is this all we are? Continual actions and reactions? No control over our futures? One pink slip and we lose our house and I lose my father? One decision to date the wrong guy and I lose Jax and Kaden? One step off the wrong curb and my life is entangled with a stranger’s?
If that’s true, then life is one pathetic and sick game.
West eases into the lot and shifts the SUV in Park. “We can’t leave it like this.”
“I know.” A pause on my part. “I don’t hate you.” I fidget with one lone long fingernail. I’ve never been able to grow them long or figured out how to paint them properly. I totally stink at all things girl. “That was mean to say.”
“I don’t hate you, either, and, trust me, I’ve been told worse.” He releases a breath. “I’m in this, Haley, whether you want me or not.”
The gray day makes the dismal shopping plaza more depressing. A woman too thin and barely dressed hauls a crying toddler by her arm, practically breaking it. The child trips over a curb and the woman drags her against the blacktop. I hate this place. Not West. Just my life.
“I keep searching for a way to fix this so you can be free and I can’t think of one.” Not when he insists on continually butting in. “I’m not looking to argue again, but can you please tell me why? I’m a stranger. I could be a serial killer or I could collect road kill and turn it into stuffed animals or own two million porcelain dolls and hang their decapitated heads from my ceiling—”
“The dolls would creep me out.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Just the dolls?”
West smiles again, like he did outside school, and that sweet, sweet sight causes me to smile in return. “I have a high threshold for creepy.”
I laugh and the high feeling plummets when I search for the last time I laughed before today. Last month? Six months ago? Years? “My point is, you don’t know me, yet you volunteered to become a modern-day gladiator without an ounce of training.”
“Cool. Does that mean I’ll get a sword?”
“I’m being serious! This whole situation is utterly and completely serious!”
“You need to learn how to chill.” West exhales, then slides his hand over the steering wheel. “I don’t know why I’m doing this.”
“Please?”
He’s silent, but it’s the type of silence that tells me he’s sorting his thoughts. My dad, before he was laid off, had that same expression whenever we had a discussion. Dad always answered me and I have no doubt West will, too...if I grant him time.
“I’m involved now because that Conner kid hit you.”
My stomach sinks. “West...” God, I hate admitting it out loud. “I hit him first.” Because he wouldn’t relent against West.
He holds up his hand. “He hit you. I don’t care if you backed over him with my Escalade two hundred times. It’s not okay to hit a girl. Besides, you had my back. I don’t forget that type of thing.” His lips slant. “Granted, I’m usually saying this to a guy.”
There’s more. I can see a pain etched on his face...in his eyes.
“You said earlier you couldn’t live with the idea that you failed. What did you mean?”
“We all have demons.” He stares at the bar situated at the end of the strip mall. “How about we leave it at that.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve walked yourself into?”
“In two months I’m going to be in some tournament. For all I know, I’ll be throwing knives at this kid and he could be tossing them back at me.”
“No knives. Though that could be faster and less painful.”
“Good to know.”
The school bus rumbles on the road behind us. “I need to get home. Can I explain everything tomorrow at lunch? Then we can devise a plan to keep you alive.”
“Sounds like a date.” West puts the SUV in gear and I give him directions to my uncle’s. He leans against his door as he drives and watches the road intently. Something tells me he’s not focused on the road as much as he’s trying to digest the world he’s thrown himself into.
West stops in front of the box house. “What are you trained in?”
The instinct is to divulge nothing because my fighting days are long over.
“I saw the damage you did to Conner. You’re trained in something.”
If West is going to survive, I’ve got to wade through the charred and ruined bridges I’ve burned and find a way to rebuild them. Might as well start with the truth. “Muay Thai.”
“And that is?”
“Kickboxing.”
West releases a paralyzing grin. “Holy shit, my girlfriend’s a kickboxer.”
I sort of giggle, but it’s so halfhearted it falls flat. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined I’d be sitting in such an expensive car with such a gorgeous guy. Taking a page from Marissa’s book, I tuck my hair behind my ear and suddenly care what I look like.
I wish I was wearing something nicer. Something more than ripped jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. Something that would make me “girlfriend” material for a guy like West. “Look, the whole relationship thing—”
“Yeah,” he cuts me off. “Sorry. No one was buying what we were saying so I ad-libbed. Can we keep up appearances for a while? We can ‘break up’ in a couple of weeks after they believe the reason I went after Conner was because I was into you.”
The glare I throw him causes him to toss his hands in the air. “I swear to God, I’ll keep my hands to myself. I highly respect that my girlfriend can throw a punch.”
Which is the reason why the only guy I’ve ever dated or kissed has been Matt. Boys are repelled by strong girls. “Have you considered transferring to another school? This was your first day. You could start fresh someplace else. I can play dumb and say I have no idea where you lived because it’s true. If you leave now, this could blow over.”
“You mean it could blow over for me.”
I nod.
“And leave you hanging? Not happening.” The crazy expression I often see on Jax and Kaden spikes across his face, and suddenly I don’t care what I look like anymore. I’m not interested in becoming involved with another fighter.
“It’s not my style to run from a fight,” he says. “Besides, I’m not sure if you heard, but my new girlfriend is going to teach me some of her kick-ass moves.”
“Assume much?”
“I’m not telling you anything y
ou haven’t already thought yourself.”
True. I reach for the handle and ask one last question. “Curious. Is my new boyfriend a drug dealer?”
West laughs. It’s deep and smooth and gives me beautiful shivers. “No.” He pauses. “I’m not much of anything anymore.”
The ache from earlier returns to his eyes and it reflects the hurt tucked deep inside me.
“Whatever it is that’s going on with you,” I say, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m good.” His eyebrows furrow and he stares out the front windshield.
He’s obviously not good, and I bite my bottom lip. For strangers, West and I have become uncomfortably familiar in a rapid amount of time. Our worlds didn’t just collide; they merged as paint spilled on a sidewalk and it’s like neither one of us will be the right color again.
“You can tell me—that is, if you want to talk. If you’re worried, I’m not a gossip because I’m not exactly—” my fingers flutter in the air “—popular.”
West opens and closes his mouth a few times and I hold my breath. Whatever he has to say, it’s big, and somehow, it feels right for him to tell me. “My family threw me out Saturday.”
The air rushes out of my lungs as if I got steamrolled by a front kick to the chest. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”
“Yeah.”
But I’m not sure I believe him. For months, I’ve been the queen of chaos. I’m a mist, a vapor. Belonging nowhere yet stretched everywhere.
This boy drops into my life with his clothes and car and attitude that suggests he’s rich and affluent and the king of the world. With one small yet enormous statement, the gap that existed between us disappears. I slide across the divide, placing my fingers as tightly as I can around his. “I get it, West,” I whisper my secret to him. “I understand not having a home.”
West
I’m used to people talking, saying words aloud to prove they know more than me, that they’re better than me. But they’re just words. Syllables strung together between breaths to fill uncomfortable silences.
Meaningless words.