I didn’t know why that comment about Tate having another man’s babies had gotten me so angry. My father had accomplished what he’d set out to do, and I’d fallen for it again.
I couldn’t think of myself as a father, now or any time in the future.
But one thing was for certain. Whether it was now or ten years from now, I didn’t want Tate having anyone else’s kids.
But someday she’d want them. Most people did.
And I swallowed the baseball-size lump that it wasn’t going to be me in her future.
It was Monday morning, and I was breaking and entering for the first time in my life. Of my own free will, anyway.
My hands weren’t even shaking as I loaded the key into the lock and walked into the Brandts’ empty house. Tate had left for school a half hour ago, and I was a little aggravated that I was late for school, too. I’d hoped she’d be off early this morning, doing whatever she did in the chemistry lab, but not today. She’d left late, and now I was behind.
Tate’s dad wanted me to find out what she wanted for her birthday like we were friends or some shit, and he knew better. The only way I was going to find out the answer was to ask her, and our relationship wasn’t on good foundations.
So…I decided to snoop.
Yep, that’s what I thought was a good idea.
Check the history on her laptop, sift through her fucking journal, maybe look through her drawers for open boxes of condoms…
My leg tingled, and I took out my vibrating phone.
Where r u?
Madoc.
Late, I typed.
Closing the back door and slipping my keys back into my pocket, I walked through the kitchen and over to the stairs.
She was everywhere. The smell of her shampoo—like warm strawberries—made my mouth water.
I hadn’t seen or heard a thing from Tate all weekend. The truck had been in the driveway, but she seemed to be in hiding since Friday night.
I sucked in a long breath before I entered her room. Not sure why.
All I knew was that I felt turned on and perverted all at the same time.
I decided to be quick about it and get out.
I wasn’t a pussy. I had the guts to sneak through someone’s shit.
Clothes were strewn throughout the otherwise neat room, and she’d added some more pictures and posters to the walls since I’d been in it.
My eyes roamed the space as I slowly walked around, and I saw her laptop but bypassed it and sat down on her bed instead.
My throat was dry.
Fuck.
I picked this moment to develop a conscience?
Her computer history might reveal exactly what I needed, or it may show me shit I didn’t need to know. She could be Googling face creams and designer umbrellas. Or she could be emailing some jerk she’d met in France or admissions offices for colleges far away.
I decided to start slow and opened her bedside table drawer instead.
There was some hand lotion, a small bowl full of rubber bands, some candy, and…a book.
I pinched my eyebrows and picked up the tattered, faded paperback that I hadn’t seen in years, but it seemed like just yesterday.
Memories poured in all at once.
Tate stuffing it in her backpack on her first day of junior high.
Tate trying to read some poem about Abraham Lincoln to me after swimming at the lake.
Tate’s dad taping the binding when Madman had run off with it.
The book—Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman—was older. Like twenty years. It had belonged to her mom, and Tate always kept it close. She used to take it with her anytime she left town for a trip.
Flipping through the pages, I searched for the poem—the only poem—that I liked. I couldn’t remember the name, but I remember she’d underlined the passage.
No sooner had I started flipping through when some pictures spilled out. I forgot the book and picked up the photos off my lap instead.
My heart pounded in the back of my throat.
Jesus.
It was us.
The pictures were of her and me. There were two, both when we were twelve or thirteen, and a ton of fucking emotions fell on me at once.
Tate kept pictures of me?
They were in her mother’s book that she treasured.
And she’d most likely taken these to France with her along with the book that held them.
I shook my head, my feet feeling like they were stuck in a bucket of cement.
She kept pictures of us like I kept pictures of us, and I smiled, feeling like I’d just won something.
And then the tiptoeing-through-the-fucking-tulips feeling that I was enjoying crashed to the ground as soon as I spied a black lace bra lying on her dresser. The tingling sensation of someone roller skating across my heart moved south, and now, I wanted to leave here in search of her.
My jaw moved, and I almost bit my tongue to keep my dick in check.
Well, well, well…Tate wore lingerie.
Her sleek body dressed in black lace blanketed my brain, and then I blinked.
Wait.
Realization dawned.
Tate wore lingerie.
Tate. Wore. Fucking. Lingerie!
What the hell for? And for who?
I ran a rough hand through my hair and felt the sweat on my forehead.
Fuck it.
Let her dad give her some money. That’s what every other teenager wants for their birthday, isn’t it?
I threw the book back into the drawer, stalked out of the room and down the stairs, and out the front door.
I don’t even remember driving to school.
The images of Tate wearing lingerie for some needledick asswipe were the only things I saw for a while.
My morning classes passed in a fog. I either sat there with my arms crossed and my eyes on my desk top, ignoring those around me. By fourth period, I gripped my desk, chair, or anything else to keep my ass from storming into her French class and picking a fight.
Teachers didn’t call on me, so I didn’t worry about paying attention. My grades stayed up, and I smarted off when they did ask me questions, so they ended up saving themselves the trouble of engaging me.
I took my time getting to lunch.
She would be there, and I didn’t want to sit back and watch us both try to ignore each other when I just wanted her next to me.
“Tatum Brandt!”
What the…?
I halted in the lunchroom at the sound of someone calling her name.
I had spied Sam and his friend Gunnar at our usual table, and I’d just gotten done grabbing a drink and sandwich when I’d heard a low voice yelling very loudly.
I zoned in on Madoc, facing away from me, fucking kneeling in the middle of the room!
“Will you please go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he shouted, and when I followed where he was looking, I clenched my fingers, destroying the sandwich in my hand.
Shiiiit.
A very surprised Tate had turned around, her shoulders tensed and eyes avoiding everyone else’s like she was more annoyed than embarrassed.
Tate couldn’t stand Madoc.
Oh, what the hell was he doing now?
The packed cafeteria hushed to a silence.
Madoc walked on his knees up to Tate and took her hand.
A few giggles sounded around the room, and a push and pull force was battling in my limbs.
Move! He’s pursuing her. He’s always wanted her.
No, stay put. He’s your friend. He wouldn’t do that.
“Please, please! Don’t say no. I need you,” he yelled, more to the audience than Tate, and everyone erupted in laughs and cheers, egging him on.
“Please, let’s make this work. I’m sorry for everything,” he continued, and I could see Tate looking down at him, wide-eyed and flushed, like she was sick.
Sick and pissed.
She mumbled something to him I couldn’t hear, and then he shouted, “But the
baby needs a father!”
WHAT. THE. FUCK?
My stomach dropped, and everything in the room turned red.
Tate’s face fell, and the crowd hollered their enjoyment of Madoc’s spectacle.
Her lips moved, but only just barely.
What the hell was she saying to him?
He seemed fucking pleased, because he stood up and enveloped her in his arms, swinging her around to the delight of the audience.
Everyone whistled and applauded, and I threw my lunch in the trash without even looking.
She’d said yes?
I turned around and stalked out before he’d even put her down.
“Goddammit!” Madoc howled as his hand shot up to his face, and he crashed backwards to the row of lockers behind him.
We shared P.E. together, and I hadn’t even waited for him to make eye contact before I’d run up and clocked him right in the eye.
The class in the locker room got out of the way, and I stepped over the bench to sit down in front of my best friend who’d slid to the floor.
I rested my elbows on top of my knees and looked down at him.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed out, and it was the truth. “But you do know you’re pushing me, right?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, squinting with one hand over his eye.
He always pushed me, and it pissed me off, but I knew why he was doing it. He wanted me to act. To grovel at Tate’s feet and make her want me.
But she’d said yes.
That pissed me off, too.
Me not even thinking to ask her to the dance myself pissed me off.
I hated dances.
I hated dancing.
But thanks to me, Tate didn’t go to things like that in the past, and she obviously wanted to.
A bitter taste settled in my mouth.
It’s the taste you get right before your choke down a mouthful of pride.
“Hey, Dr. Porter.” I ran into my sophomore year Chemistry teacher in the hallway after school. “Is Tatum Brandt working in the lab today?” I gestured to the door behind him.
“Yes,” he blurted out, wide-eyed and looking oddly relieved to see me. “She is. But it just occurred to me that she’s alone. Are you free? Would you mind spotting her? I’m usually there, but I have a meeting.”
“Alone?” My jaw twitched with a pent-up smile. “No problem.”
He kept walking, and I opened the lab door, my heart already rushing with the promise of the kind of trouble I wanted to drown in.
The room was empty, but I heard shuffling and clattering coming from the supply closet, so I took the seat at the teacher’s table and propped my feet up, waiting for her.
The lab was on the larger side of the classrooms at the school. It held about twelve tables with two to three seats per table. The tops were lined with beakers and flasks, burners and sinks.
I liked the tables.
They were a good height.
I half-laughed, half-sighed at the images floating through my head.
Jesus Christ.
I’d never fantasized about a girl the way I did with Tate, but I was getting ahead of myself. She may never let me get to second base again, let alone third.
Running my hands through my hair, I hooked my fingers behind my head and tried thinking about the Lifetime Movie Channel to keep my dick in check.
The closet door swung open, and Tate stepped out with a crate of supplies in her arms.
Her hair was parted in the middle today, and it flowed around her face and body, partially obscuring her eyes.
But she saw me.
Even through the blonde wisps, I could pick out the storm.
Her legs stilled, and she looked surprised, unnerved, and a little pissed.
We had the same effect on each other.
“Not now, Jared. I’m busy,” she warned as she carried her crate to a table off to my right. Her tone was steady and curt.
She was putting me in my place.
“I know. I came to help you.”
It was a lie, but I guess I could help her. I knew my shit in Chemistry as well as Math. It was the touchy feely subjects like English and Psychology that bit my ass.
“Help me?” Her eyes lit up like I’d said the most ridiculous thing. “I don’t need help.”
“I wasn’t asking if you did,” I shot back.
“No, you’re just assuming,” she retorted, not meeting my eyes as she continued to unload her supplies.
“Not at all. I know what you can do.” My voice cracked with amusement, but I wanted her to look at me.
“I thought that if we’re going to be friends,” I continued, “this might be a good place to start.”
Getting off my chair, I walked towards her, hoping she would know I wanted anything but friendship.
“I mean…” I kept going when she didn’t say anything. “It’s not like we’re going to be able to go back to climbing trees and having sleepovers, is it?”
Her chest filled with a quiet breath, and she stopped unloading for a split second. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought she’d let me plant her ass on the counter and let me show her how a sleepover between us would work.
But then she narrowed her eyes and talked more with her teeth than her lips. “Like I said, I don’t need help.”
“Like I said, I wasn’t asking,” I repeated, not missing a beat. “Did you think that Porter was going to let you conduct experiments with fire by yourself?” I had no idea what her experiment was, but after catching sight of some of her materials and Porter’s apprehension about leaving her alone, I gathered that it would involve the burners.
“How do you know about my experiment? And who said we’re going to be friends?” she sneered before bending down to get something out of her bag. “You know, maybe too much damage has been done. I know you’ve apologized, but it’s not so easy for me.”
This was not the Tate I knew. Tate was tough. Even when I’d made her cry over the years with my pranks, she held her head high and moved on.
Tate didn’t need grand gestures. Did she?
“You’re not getting girly on me, are you?” I was trying at sarcasm, but I wanted a fucking miracle.
Yes, Jared. Thank you for apologizing, and I forgive you. Let’s move on.
That’s what I really wanted.
But she buried her face in her binder and ignored me. Or tried to look like she was ignoring me.
My fingers were humming, and I balled up my fists to try to erase the urge to touch her.
She kept staring at her papers, but I knew she wasn’t reading anything. She was feeling me like I was feeling her.
Finally, she sighed, giving up the petense, and looked up at me like my mother did when she’d had enough. “Jared, I appreciate the effort you’re putting in here, but it’s unnecessary. Contrary to what your ego is blowing you up with, I’ve been surviving just fine without you for the last three years. I work better alone, and I would not appreciate your help today or any other day. We’re not friends.”
My pulse throbbed in my throat, and I swallowed.
Fine without me?
And I hadn’t breathed a single day without her on my mind.
She leveled me with her resigned expression and flat eyes. I wondered if she’d believed what she’d said.
I wondered if it was true.
She turned back around to her work table, not giving away anything until she knocked her binder to the floor, and its contents spilled everywhere.
I stepped behind her, and we bent down together to pick up the papers.
Was she nervous?
Tate wasn’t usually clumsy.
Gathering up the papers, I pinched my eyebrows together and studied the internet printouts of cars for sale that were among the papers. “You’re looking at cars?” I asked.
The selection included a Mustang, a Charger, a 300M and a G8.
“Yeah,” she snipped. “I’m getting myself a birthday present.”
> Birthday. I nearly said it out loud.
I guess now I knew what to tell her dad she wanted.
She’d want the car soon. Her birthday was coming up in less than a week. I wondered if he’d trust me to tag along with her to go buy one instead of making her wait.
Would she trust me?
“Jared?” She held out her hand for the papers.
I blinked, coming out of my thoughts. “I forgot your birthday was coming up,” I lied. “Does your dad know you’re looking to buy a car so soon?” I asked as I came up beside her at the table.
“Does your mom know you provide alcohol to minors and sleep around on the weekends?” she retorted, serving my shit back to me.
“‘Does my mom care’ would be a better question.” I couldn’t hide the disdain in my tone as I started helping her unload her crate.
Even before I’d met Tate, my relationship with my mother was broken. I roamed, left to stick up for myself or my mom on the few occasions one of her asshole drinking buddies got rough. Not that I could throw much weight around at that age, but I tried.
In her monologue, Tate reminded me of how she healed me when she thought I’d healed her. We were both fighting for happiness. Fighting to just be kids when we met.
Those four years we spent together were the best I’d ever felt.
I snapped my head to the side when I heard glass shatter to the floor.
What the…?
Tate had whipped around, probably having tried to catch the flask, and leaned on the counter looking down at her mess.
What the hell was going on with her?
She stared at the damage, almost looking like she was in pain as her chest rose and fell in hard, deep breaths.
Tate wasn’t what I would call “controlled,” but she’d been holding her own with Madoc and me since her return.
Until now.
“I make you nervous,” I said regretfully, looking at the shattered glass on the floor.
“Just go.” I heard her pained whisper and flinched.
Looking up at her, I saw the embarrassment and frustration in her eyes. She didn’t want me here. I didn’t know if it was because she hated me and needed me gone or because she wasn’t sure what she wanted.
I was finally seeing how I had twisted her up. I was playing with her, even though I didn’t mean to. I thought I hated her, so I pushed her. Now, I wanted her, so I was pulling her back in.