Текст книги "Something True"

Автор книги: Jessica Roe

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 7 страниц)

 Chapter 7

Ibbie

 

THE SECOND WALT'S lips touched mine, I forgot my own name. I forgot that we'd spent the last year hating on each other, that I'd dated his jerk hole of a brother, that his grandparents were just downstairs and this was super inappropriate. Because Walt, he knows how to kiss. He kisses like he knows every one of my secret desires and fantasies and is using them against me, to own me. And I. . .I want to be owned by him.

With a pleasured little grunt, he spins us around smoothly and presses me into the plush bed. His body leans over mine as he kisses me with more heat and power than I've ever been kissed in my whole life. I've kissed plenty of guys before, because hey, I love to kiss, but never has there been this passion with any of them.

One of my hands strokes the soft skin at the back of his neck, and the other clutches the material of his shirt, desperately holding him against me. His hands are everywhere; cupping my face, lacing through my hair, stroking my thigh, brushing the sides of my stomach. It's like he wants to touch every inch of me and he can't get enough.

I feel like I've lost all control of myself, of my lips, my body, my soul. This is the guy I've hated for an entire year. This is the guy who's hated me. The guy who's tortured me, who I've gone out of my way to screw with. And yet the moment his lips touched mine it was like none of that mattered anymore, like in a way, it had all been leading up to this. This right here, in this bed, in this room. I don't know if it's just the kiss though, because tonight I saw a completely different side to Walt, a side I've never seen before. I saw a guy who was sweet to his grandma, who had so much respect for his grandpops, who cared about his brother's fiancee and was more protective of me than anyone has ever been in my entire life. I like this Walt. I never thought I'd use the words like and Walt in the same sentence, but I do. I like him.

Walt's lips leave mine and I immediately crave the contact, but he kisses down my neck, pushing aside the sleeve of my dress so he can press his hot lips into my shoulder. I come undone, lifting my chin in the air and squeezing his waist between my thighs. How is it that he can make me feel this way when before today I've felt nothing but disdain for him?

“Ibbie,” he utters fiercely before he covers my mouth with his once more. He kisses me like. . .like I'm the air he needs to breathe, like I'm the light he needs to see, like I'm the heat of sunlight touching his skin for the very first time. He doesn't just kiss me, he worships me.

I open my mouth and welcome his tongue, brushing it with my own. I want this. I want him. So badly. A part of me wishes that I could rationalize this away as a hate kiss, but there's nothing hateful in this. Not from either of us. This feels like he needs me, and in this moment I feel like I need him too.

My hands move to his broad shoulders, clinging on, desperate to hold him against me – though I don't think he's in a rush to go anywhere. His body is heated over mine; heated and hard in places I'm soft.

I don't know how much time passes, minutes or hours or days, but eventually our kisses slow. Walt leans his forehead against my cheek for a moment, then pulls back to look down at me. His eyes give nothing away.

That was. . .

That was unexpected.

“What the hell just happened?” I ask when I can breathe again, my voice barely above a whisper. Now that his lips aren't fused onto mine and robbing me of all reasonable thought, bewilderment is firmly taking a hold of me. I'm not sure I even know which way is up right now.

Walt shakes his head silently, unable to speak. His eyes, those dark depths I'd always thought were so cold, are filled with so many emotions I can't even begin to sort through them. But they're not cold, not at all. How could I have ever thought they were? Obviously I wasn't looking hard enough.

“Ibbie,” he breathes finally when I cup his cheek with my hand. His expression is dazed. “I-”

“Walt, Ibbie!” his grandma calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Dessert is ready! Get down here before your ice-cream melts!”

Walt closes his eyes in defeat. “Be right down, Grandma!”

“I'm so confused right now,” I admit to him quietly when her footsteps move away.

“I know.” He nods as if he has so much more to say, but he doesn't offer up any kind of explanation as to why that kiss just happened. Instead, he rolls off of me and stands, holding out a hand to help me up.

“Oh my God,” I mutter when I catch a look at myself in the small mirror on the dresser. Nope. Just so much nope. My lipgloss has been thoroughly kissed away, my neatly styled hair is now wild around my shoulders and my chin is red from stubble rash. I look one hundred percent kissed. No, I look one hundred percent ravished. Doing my best to make myself presentable, I pat down my hair and reapply my gloss, but his family are going to know what we were doing up here for sure. Oh God, the shame. His grandma is going to think I'm such a hussy. And Aleix. . .he's going to know that I went from making out with one brother to the next and. . . Oh wait, I don't give a hairy monkey's bare butt about what Aleix thinks, the lying jerk. But still, they'll know what we were doing and that's just totally cringe.

I, on the other hand, have no frigging idea. What were we doing up here? Because we sure as heck weren't acting like the regular Walt and Ibbie. That's one thing I do know.

When I turn back to Walt, needing answers, the expression I catch on his face steals my breath away and stops me in my tracks. There's so much longing in his eyes as he looks at me, though he quickly hides it away, shoving it back behind a blank mask. But I saw it there. He was. . .he was longing for me. For me. The guy who hates me was longing for me.

Oh boy, the confusion. It's eating me up.

He moves forward to stand in front of me, putting his forehead on my shoulder. “We should. . .uh, we should get downstairs,” he says quietly. “Don't want the ice-cream to melt.”

All I can do is nod in reply.

+++

AFTER DESSERT, WALT'S grandma hugs me for the longest time and tells me to come back whenever I want. Even without Walt. She's so nice.

Walt and I are silent when we climb into his car. I almost feel like throwing a barb at him just for old time's sake.

“Where are we going?” I ask a minute later when he doesn't take the road that leads back to the city. Instead, he circles back around behind his grandparents' house and turns off on an old dirt road.

“Just wait,” he replies softly. “We're almost there.”

He's not lying. Only a minute later he takes another turn into a field that no one seems to have claimed for years. The grass is overgrown and ahead of us, on the opposite end of the field, an old, wooden windmill stands. “Are you going to murder me?” I question doubtfully. Damn it, I should have slipped a weapon in my purse when I knew I'd be going on a car journey with Walt.

“Yes, Ibbie. I brought you here to kill you and dump your body,” he replies dryly.

I fold my arms, sincerely unamused.

He stops the car just inside the field, leaving the headlights on. The sun has long since set and the cold winter weather has stirred up a spooky mist in the air around us. The fog swirls and dances in the glare of the headlights. With the silhouette of the windmill before us, the effect is beautiful in a creepy, eerie way.

Walt sighs, looking straight ahead and not at me when he talks. “This is where I used to come when I was a kid – the windmill has been abandoned for years and no one bothers to come out here anymore. Aleix and I would camp out in this field during the summer, then we'd hide out and make forts inside the windmill when the winter came and the weather got colder. I still come here sometimes when I need to get away and think.”

I swallow, turning my head to study his profile. Though it's dark inside the car, the headlights cast a faint glow and I can just make out his shadowy face. He looks startlingly handsome like this. His hair and eyes, already as dark as night, are nothing more than shadows. I trace the sharp angles of his jaw with my eyes, the curve of his cheekbones, the soft lines of his lips. I realize that he's choosing to share something with me here, something that's special to him. This Walt, the one I've spent all this time with tonight, is so different to the Walt I've known for the past year. Yet I think it's this one that might be the real him. I. . .I hope it is. I like this Walt so much.

“What do you think about?”

One of his shoulders lifts. “Stuff,” he answers mysteriously.

It doesn't escape my attention that we still have yet to talk about that kiss.

“Come on,” he says suddenly, unbuckling and climbing out of the car.

“What are you. . . Walt! What are we doing?” There's nothing else to do but follow him out. I rub my arms when the icy November air hits my skin. “It's cold!”

Grinning at my pitifulness, he grabs his jacket from the trunk and puts it around my shoulders. His fingers brush the sensitive skin just below my neck for a little longer than necessary as he straightens the jacket out; it sends bolts of warmth sizzling through my veins. I look up into his eyes. He's not overly tall, maybe five nine or ten, and with my heels on I'm almost the same height as he is.

I squeak in surprise when he grips my waist and lifts me up to sit on the hood of the car. The metal is cold on my butt, even through the material of my dress. “So there's that,” I grumble, and he laughs as he hops up next to me.

We lay down next to each other, our heads touching as we look up at the dark night sky. His black hair is such a contrast to my own blonde locks. Though it's cloudy out, I can still see a few stars here and there.

“Blair knows all the constellations,” I say conversationally.

He nods. “Yeah, and the stories behind them too. Except I like her versions better than the real ones. She's pretty cool.”

“Well duh.”

Waiting a moment, he says, “I spoke to Aleix before we left.”

“Whappened?” I ask too quickly, fumbling my words. “I mean, what happened?”

“He's gonna talk to Fauna tonight, come clean about everything. He knows he acted like a shit to both of you.”

“Think she'll forgive him?”

“Not that he deserves it, but probably. She loves him a lot, and I guess they weren't technically together when he was seeing you.”

“And we never slept together.”

“Yeah, and there's that. That helps.” That's an odd choice of words, but I choose to say nothing.

“I feel so frigging bad.”

He turns his head to look at me, his eyes sharp. “Don't you fucking dare try to blame yourself for his screw up. It's not your fault.”

“I know.”

Chapter 8

Ibbie

WE FALL INTO a comfortable silence as we both turn back to the clouds and the stars, the only noise coming from the rustling of the grass as it moves in the soft breeze. Our breaths mist out in front of us. I tuck my cold fingers into the sleeves on Walt's jacket, wondering how he isn't freezing his frigging nips off right now in that shirt.

I want so badly to ask him about the kiss, to demand where it came from and what it means. Because I don't have any answers, and even though he was the one who instigated, I most definitely didn't push him away. But for the first time in my life I find that words aren't coming easily, like I've spoken so many in my lifetime already that I've simply ran out. Now that would be a tragedy.

“Was your boss pissed about you missing the show tonight?” Walt questions eventually, folding his hands across his stomach comfortably.

“He was pretty cool about it actually. As long as I only make it a one time thing. Not that I'd be wanting to skip again. I'm lucky enough that I actually love what I do.”

“I think it's great,” he confides. “You know, how you're following your dreams. That you've always just known what you wanted to be doing with your life so you worked hard at it, made it happen. Most people don't have your determination to follow their dreams like that.”

“Thank you.” He just keeps on surprising me. I get curious then, so I ask, “What are your dreams?”

His silence stretches on for a full minute before he turns to look at me again. “My dreams?”

“Sure.”

“How do you know being a tattoo artist isn't my dream?”

I tilt my head, because I don't know. “A feeling, I guess.”

He stares at me for the longest time. “Funny how well you know me,” he muses quietly. “after everything we've thrown at each other. You're right. Not that I don't love tattooing – being able to create art on a person's body is incredible. But it isn't what I want to do forever, not like Digby and Reid.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“I want. . .” He pauses, turning back to look up at the sky as if he's too embarrassed to meet my eyes when he tells me. “I want to be an artist. I don't want to just hide my art at home where nobody else can see it. I want to show it, maybe even sell it.” A long sigh escapes him. “I've never told anyone else that before.”

I'm touched that he shared it with me. Something flips over inside my stomach, because he's such a frigging cutesicle stick when he's all shy and bashful like that. “You've never tried to sell it before?”

“No fuckin' way,” he replies automatically, shaking his head like that's the most absurd idea he's ever heard.

“Why not?”

“I don't know. I'm probably not good enough anyway. It's just a dream.”

“Please, I've seen your work. You're amazing. Your tattoo work,” I amend, when he looks at me suspiciously like he thought I might have sneaked a peak earlier while he was in the shower. But it's true. Fábia once showed me the elaborate tattoo on her back that Walt must have spent so many hours on. The tattoo spanning right across her shoulder blades is of a fiery avenging angel riding on the back of a fearsome Manticore. It's seriously hardcore yet so unbelievably beautiful. I lean up on my elbow over him, suddenly very excited as a thought forms in my mind. “You know one of Silver's best friends owns an art gallery, right?”

“He does?”

“Yeah, Nathan. I think you met him once when he came up to the city. It was the night you told that guy I was flirting with that I was actually a guy in drag and you kept pointing at my crotch and telling him to look for a bump.”

He chuckles fondly at the memory. “Ah, good times.”

I pointedly ignore that. “So Nathan. You gonna give him a call?”

“And say what? Hey, guy I've only ever met once before. We don't know each other but do you want to show my art in your gallery?”

I shrug, because it's not like I know how the process goes or anything. Jeez Louise. “Nathan's pretty cool. I just think it wouldn't hurt to give him a call, is all. I can get his number from Silver for you. If you don't do it, I will.”

He smiles sweetly over at me, a strange look on his face.

“What?” I want to know.

“Just. . .” He shakes his head. “. . .you hate me, yet you still get excited over the idea of me following my dreams. I just think you're incredible, that's all.”

Despite the cold night, my cheeks warm considerably at the compliment. Nice Walt is harder to handle than asshole Walt on so many levels. “I don't hate you.”

“You don't?” He raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Fine,” I admit. “The other Walt – the one who calls me mean names and steals my underwear – maybe a little. But the Walt who's sweet to me and takes me to dinner at his grandparents' house and punches a guy in my honor – that Walt I definitely do not hate.”

His eyes light up like I've just made all his dreams come true. I don't know how to handle an expression like that. “Well that's. . .good to know.”

“I like this side of you,” I tell him softly. “It's new. I feel like most people don't get to see it often, which is just a damned fine shame.”

He glances down at my lips, and for a moment I think he's going to kiss me again. And in that moment I realize I'd probably let him. But instead he quickly sits up and slides off the car. He bows dramatically in front of me and holds out a hand for me to take. “Milady.”

Pursing my lips in amusement, I take his outstretched hand and let him help me off the hood. Without a word, he reaches into the car to steal my iPod from my purse, and a second later What's Up by 4 Non Blondes comes on over the speakers. I grin, because this is my favorite song and I had no idea he even knew that.

“What are you doing?” I demand, laughing.

“Asking you to dance.” He holds out his hand to me again.

Unable to hold in my smile, I take it, and Walt pulls me out into the overgrown grass. The long blades are damp and they brush against my legs, soaking my cold feet and calves, but in this moment there's no place else in the whole world I'd rather be.

We sway to the music, grinning uncontrollably at each other. Walt spins me around and out, then pulls me back to his chest as he laughs. The tall grass doesn't exactly make an ideal dance floor so mostly we just sway, but I like the way he holds me close against his hard body.

This is. . .perfect. Too perfect.

Suddenly I can take it no longer. I drop his hands like they're on fire and step back, ignoring the hurt on his face.

“Ibbie, what-”

“Shut your face hole for a minute. Just. . .what the eff, man?” I demand. “What was that kiss about?” Waving my arms around me at the field and the car and the music, I add, “What is this about?”

“I. . .” His mouth opens and closes as he fights internally for what he wants to say. He runs a hand through his neatly combed hair, spiking it up again. That little bit of familiarity is oddly reassuring. “Can we sit again?”

I nod and follow him back onto the hood. We sit at the edge this time, our legs dangling over. Walt is so close to me that our thighs and knees press tightly together and I don't find myself moving away. The heat coming off of him seems to seep into my skin; it feels incredible. One of his hands come up to cup my cheek and he turns my face, making me look at him.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks huskily. “Before we talk?”

Obviously I should say no, because if I let him kiss me again then I'm not going to be able to put two coherent thoughts together and that would be bad, as none of this is making sense as it is. But instead of being a sensible girl, I find myself tilting my face up to meet his and parting my lips. He takes my mouth softly this time, savoring me. His teeth graze my bottom lip as he pays that one attention first, and then my top lip. He kisses my chin, my cheeks, and then my lips once more.

Our kiss quickly heats up until we're practically lipbanging as we try to get more of each other. Walt presses forward and soon we're laying down again. Like a wanton hussy, I hitch my leg over one of his, gasping into his mouth when he grips my thigh with his strong hand. I kiss a path down his cheek and chin, wanting desperately to feel the skin of his neck with my mouth to find out if it tastes just as good as it smells. It does. His stubble scratches at my skin in a way that makes my whole body break out into goosebumps and sends sparks of pleasure shooting throughout my entire being. Oh man, how did I ever dislike his stubble? His stubble is the best thing ever. A soft moan escapes from the back of his throat when I kiss his neck, his hot breath brushing over my skin. He grabs my face between his hands, crushing my lips back onto his.

I could just kiss this man for hours and hours and never get tired of it.

There's not a sliver of confusion in his eyes when he pulls back to look at me this time, none at all. Clearly he's not experiencing a complete and utter mental breakdown like I am.

“It shouldn't have taken seeing you with my brother for me to work up the courage to do that,” he murmurs, pressing my swollen bottom lip with his thumb. “I've been such a fucking coward.”

“Whuh. . .” His kisses have successfully robbed me of my voice. Is he saying that he likes me? That he's liked me since before I dated his brother?

“If I'd known kissing you was all it took to get you to stop talking then I might've tried that the first time we met,” he teases.

But I'm in no mood for jokes. “Walt. . .”

“I want you to give me a chance.” He squeezes his eyes shut as if it's too hard to look at me as he says it. “Fuck that. I need you to give me a chance. I need to prove to you that I'm not the asshole you think I am.”

My heart pounds. “A chance for what?”

“For us,” he replies simply, and my mouth drops open.

“You want to. . .to be with me?”

His eyes snap open, filled with a new determination. “Not right now, okay? Not tonight. I'm gonna give you a month, Ibbie. Not because I think it'll take you that long to get over my schmuck of a bother, but because I want him so far gone outta that head of yours that you barely even remember his name. So a month.”

“And then what?” I almost hesitate to ask.

His dark eyes seem to penetrate right to my very soul. “And then I'm coming for you, Isabel Ibbot. I'm coming full force, and I'm going to win you over. Then I promise I'll never, ever lose you.”

I blink. My mouth gapes open and closed like a fish. This was not how I expected tonight to go. There are a thousand things I could say right now. A million. There are a thousand things I want to ask, to demand an explanation for. But once again I've been shocked into silence and the only thing that comes out of my mouth is a pitiful, “Oh.”

Walt leans closer and kisses me once more. This time it's a closed mouth kiss. It's soft, sweet, yet spine tingling. Then he rolls off the hood and lifts me down.

Neither of us speak a single word as we climb inside the car. Neither of us speak a single word as he shuts off the music and starts up. Neither of us speak a single word as he pulls out of the field and we make the drive home. And then neither of us speak a single word when he drops me off at my apartment an hour later. I guess that's just how we roll.