Текст книги "Confessions of a Kleptomaniac"

Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Luna and I stay out on the porch, kissing for what feels like hours. I don’t take things too far, even though I desperately want to. I can tell she’s tense, and the last thing I want to do is make her feel like I’m pushing her.

“You’re so beautiful,” I hear myself saying over and over again as my hand wanders up her legs, across her smooth skin. My mouth leaves her lips to make a path down her jawline. A shudder vibrates through her body as I sweep her hair over her shoulder and place a soft kiss against the hollow of her neck. “And I don’t think you should cut your hair . . .” I murmur, sucking on her skin as my hand drifts down her arm.

“I don’t want to, but I’m not sure how . . . I’m going to get out of it. She said, if I argued, I had to move out.” She shivers again but winces as my knuckles brush her wrist, and I remember the bruises I saw there earlier.

Even though it kills me, I move back to look her in the eye.

“The bruises on your wrist . . .” I say, out of breath. “Where’d they come from? Because I know they didn’t come from trampoline springs.”

She stares down at the purplish-blue imprints on her skin. “I had an argument with my dad . . . He didn’t mean to, though. It’s not as bad as it seems.”

I hook my finger under her chin and force her to look up at me. “Luna, I know it’d be hard, but have you ever thought about just moving out?”

“I’ve actually thought about it a lot. I mean, I’m eighteen, so technically I could, but I don’t have a job, and my parents won’t let me get one. I think, in this twisted way, they like that I have no money of my own. I am going to be working for Benny for a while, but I’m not getting paid. My parents set it up so it looks like I’m helping, but really it’s another punishment for me.” She shrugs again, dejected. “It’s okay, though. I don’t mind doing it. I just wish I could get a real job, you know.” Sighing, she leaves my lap to go stand near the railing. “I feel like I can’t win either way. Either I break my parents’ rules and go get a job, which will instantly get me kicked out of the house, or I walk out and live on the streets.”

“There’s no one you could stay with for a while?” I get up and move beside her. “Just until you got on your feet.”

She lifts a shoulder, staring at a group of people passing a Frisbee. “Wynter offered for me to move into her pool house, and I kind of want to, but”—she rests her arms on the metal railing—“I’m afraid.”

“Of your mom and dad getting upset?”

“Of them getting upset, of being a burden to Wynter . . . of her finding out stuff about me that I’ve kept from her. I’m kind of coward.”

“You’re not a coward.” My tone comes out sharper than I intended, which causes her to glance up at me. “Not at all.”

“Grey, I keep so many secrets from people because I’m afraid of what they might think of me, and I can barely stick up for myself.” Her voice is heavy with doubt.

I completely disagree with her and feel this overwhelming need to prove it to her.

“Do you know what my father’s last words were to me?” I turn away from her to hide my shame. “He told me that I was a good son and that he was proud of the man I’d become. And you know what I did? I looked him straight in the eye and nodded. I didn’t tell him that I wasn’t the man he thought I was, that I was a horrible person who acted like he was better than everyone else. My dad was dying, and I lied to him. I let him believe I was the nice guy he saw when I was at home . . . That’s a coward, Luna.”

I wait for her to say something.

When she doesn’t, I concentrate on watching the Frisbee get tossed back and forth in an attempt to ignore the uncomfortable silence Luna and I have crashed into.

“Grey.” Her voice sounds firm when she speaks again. “I don’t think that makes you a coward. Your father was dying, and you let him believe he raised you to be a good guy, that he did what he was supposed to do as a father. There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, you took those words and made something out of it. You changed for your dad, so really, he was right. It just took you a while to make that happen for him.”

I turn to her, feeling ten times lighter than I did a few minutes ago. “I don’t know how you do it, but you always seem to be able to see the good in everything. Except for maybe yourself. I wish you could see that.”

“I do sometimes . . . It’s just hard when, every time I go home, I’m reminded of what a crappy person I am.” She picks at the cracks in the railing. “There is one thing I can’t always see the good in, though.” When she smiles up at me, I’m thrown off by her sudden shift in attitude. “And that’s losing at any game, whether it’s backgammon or checkers. I never, ever think it’s good to lose.”

“I still don’t know if I buy into that theory that you’re a sore loser,” I tease. “I think I have to see it for myself.”

“Beck’s got a whole closet full of board games.” A challenge dances in her eyes. “But I have to warn you about the risks first. When I lose a hand, always keep an eye out for objects I can throw. If you win a hand and you’re smug about it, duck for cover because you’re more than likely going to get pegged in the face with a game piece, card, or maybe even a die. And if at any time you think about cheating, be prepared to get a lecture on how cheating can lead to more severe crimes like robbery.”

“What statistics are those based on?”

“They’re not based on any statistics, per se. I just like to get people really thinking about who they are because it distracts them, and a distracted opponent is a weak one.”

“Wow, you really are vicious.” I pretend to be horrified when really I think she’s freakin’ adorable.

“But at least I’m warning you about my viciousness, right?” she states innocently. I have a feeling the innocent act is a ruse to throw me off my game. “I mean, that’s got to count for something.”

“I guess so,” I say, “but just so you know, none of this scares me. I’m not holding back my mad board-game skills, no matter how ugly things get.”

She grins like that’s exactly what she’s hoping for. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

One hour later, I’m sitting on Beck’s bed with cards surrounding me. After Luna lost her tenth hand of Blackjack, she proceeded to—and very spitefully I might add—declare that I needed to play fifty-two card pick up and then threw all the cards in the air.

Instead of picking the cards up, I relax back on my elbows and stretch out my legs. “You know what? I’m kind of turned on by this sore loser thing.”

A flush creeps across her cheeks, a look I’m starting to really like. “It’s not supposed to turn you on. It’s supposed to get you as irritated as I am.” She flicks a card at me then crosses her arms. “I really suck at Blackjack, don’t I?”

“You kind of do, but that’s okay. At least you throw the cards in the air with great accuracy. I mean, not everyone can get them as scattered all over the place as much you can.” I glance at the cards all over the bed and on the floor. There’s even a few on the dresser that’s across the room. “Think about how long it’s going to take me to pick all these up. Then again, once I do, I kind of win the game, so it defeats your point.”

She struggles not to smile. “Maybe I won’t let you pick them up.” The challenge rises in her eyes again.

A second goes by before I dive for the cards, picking up a handful. She leaps after me and ends up landing on my back. I laugh then easily stand up, carrying her piggy-back style as I bend down to pick up the cards from off the floor.

“Now you’re just showing off,” she says with her arms and legs wrapped around me.

“Maybe a little bit.” I stack the cards in my hand. “Are you impressed?”

“Maybe a little bit,” she admits.

“Just a little bit?” I set the cards down on the computer desk and grasp onto her legs. “I guess I’m going to have to take it up a notch, then.”

Without warning, I spin around and around, and she busts up laughing, her arms tightening around me.

“Nope, still not impressed,” she says through her laughter.

“Man, you’re a tough crowd to please.” I stop spinning, lift my arm, and in one swift movement, swing her around and drop her on the bed.

She lands on her back, bouncing against the mattress, laughing. “Okay, that was a little impressive.”

I climb on top of her, putting a knee on each side of her hip. “You think so?”

She nods her head, her laughter dying as she gazes up at me.

I play with a strand of her hair, raveling it around my finger, slowly drawing her up to me. Her tongue slips out of her mouth, wetting her lips, and I stop moving slowly and attack her with my mouth.

Our bodies conform as I shift my knees between her legs, and she grinds her hips against mine in response. She gasps, her fingers fumbling as they trail up my spine and cup my shoulder blades.

I slow the kiss down, taking my time, but my hands are all over her, wanting, needing, wanting. Eventually, I slip off her jacket, and she tugs off my shirt over my head. Then we move up the bed toward the pillows.

I pull on a string on the front of her dress, opening it up so I can place a kiss on her neck, her chest, kissing, tasting, savoring. I’ve never felt like this before, never wanted someone so badly yet didn’t just want to take it.

“I want to take things slow,” I whisper between kisses. “I don’t want to rush everything like I normally do . . . I want to . . . experience this . . .” God, I sound like a babbling idiot.

Thankfully, Luna doesn’t think so.

“I get what you mean,” she whispers against my lips.

I relax and go back to kissing her and exploring her body. We only pull away when Luna’s phone starts ringing from her jacket pocket. At first, she ignores it, but when the damn thing won’t shut up, she pulls away, grunting in frustration, which may be the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

“That might be my grandma,” she grumbles, scooting out from under me.

I roll onto my back as she climbs off the bed and picks up her jacket. My lips feel swollen, and I feel high, even though I haven’t even had one drink tonight.

“I think I should probably get home,” Luna says as she sits on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone.

I sit up and slide over beside her. “It’s not from your grandma, is it?”

She hands me the phone, and I read the message on the screen.

Wynter: Hey, princess, it’s way after midnight, which means that your carriage has long turned into a sober, rejected, depressing pumpkin and really needs to get home. Meet me out front soon?

“My friends and I have this rule where we can’t leave someone at a party by themselves,” she explains, combing her fingers through her hair. “Ari already went home, and I’m guessing Willow bailed out, too, and Beck’s probably passed out somewhere, which counts as him being MIA.”

“I love how you guys are always looking out for each other.” I give her back the phone. “I should probably get home, too. I don’t have a pact with my friends or anything, but I do have to go to work tomorrow. It’ll be my first day, and I’m already nervous that I’ll fuck up somehow. The last thing I need to do is fall asleep on the job. Benny does seem pretty cool, though. He might not even get upset if I take a two minute power nap.”

“You’re working at Benny’s tomorrow, too?”

“Yep.” I grin, brushing strands of her hair out of her eyes. “I guess you’ll have to put up with me for two days in a row.”

“I think I can handle that. And”—she rubs her hand across her arm, erasing goose bumps.—“maybe you can keep an eye on me. I’m a little worried about being in a store.”

“Absolutely. In fact, maybe I should keep an eye on you twenty-four seven, no matter what you’re doing, just in case.” I wink at her.

She shakes her head, wrestling back a smile as she gets up and laces up the front of her dress.

I watch her fingers move, gradually covering up her skin, only looking away when she ties the end in a knot. Then I pick up my shirt and pull it on while Luna puts on her jacket.

As she’s putting her shoes back on, I wander around the room. Beck’s room looks a lot like mine used to, with sports equipment everywhere, nice furniture, and a big-ass stereo system. It makes me miss my stuff, but what really makes me choke up is when I see the baseball I gave him balanced on top of a shelf.

I want to reach up and touch it one last time, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to let it go if I do.

“What is it?” Luna asks, moving up beside me.

I bottle down the pain choking me. “It’s just an old baseball.”

“Is it . . . Is it yours?”

“It was.”

“You gave it to Beck for money.” It’s not a question. She knows Beck well enough that she probably understands the deals he does more than anyone else.

“Yeah.” I inhale and exhale as quietly as I can, making myself relax before I turn to her. “Ready to go?” I offer her my hand.

She looks up at the ball then at me before lacing her fingers with mine. “Sure.”

We leave the room together, and it causes a few strange looks and stares.

“Let me take you home,” I say as we push our way down the hallway, winding around people doing almost the same thing Luna and I just did in the bedroom.

“That sounds nice, but you can’t drop me off at the door or anything,” she replies, disheartened. “You’ll have to pull up to the corner of my street.”

“I’m okay with that.” But I wish it wasn’t like that. I wish she wasn’t so trapped in her own home that she has to sneak out to pretty much do anything.

She sends Wynter a text, saying she’s going to ride home with me. Wynter responds that Luna better message her the moment she gets home so she knows I didn’t try to murder her.

“She thinks I could be a murderer?” I ask, slightly offended but mostly entertained.

She laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t take it personally. She always says stuff like that. She says it’s so we won’t forget that bad stuff can happen. Really, I think it’s because she spends way too much time watching crime movies.”

I chuckle, pulling her to me, and brush my lips across her forehead. “I promise I’ll get you home safely.”

“I know you will,” she replies without an ounce of doubt.

Everything seems to be going great—I’d even go as far as calling it the perfect night—until we reach the bottom of the stairway, and Logan blindsides us, blocking our way to the front door.

“Babe, take a look at this,” Logan says with his arms crossed and wearing his famous my-shit-don’t-stink smirk. “I think you might’ve been right. Herpes does make you lose your damn mind.”

Piper ambles away from a group of her friends and toward us. “Whoa,” Piper mutters, blinking her glazed-over eyes at Luna and my interlocked fingers. “Am I hallucinating?”

Great. She’s drunk, and a drunk Piper means a sloppy, even more annoying Piper. I’ve seen her wasted before. She likes to make scenes and throw tantrums to get attention.

My hand constricts on Luna’s as I start to swing around Logan, but he sidesteps us, getting in my path.

“Back the fuck off,” I warn, leaning in.

“Back the fuck off,” Piper mimics then erupts in a fit of giggles. “God, Grey, you’re so uptight.” The heels of her boots click against the floor as she stumbles closer to me. “Let me loosen you up, baby.” Her fingers wander toward on my chest, but I step back. “Why are you acting like I’m diseased or something? You’re the one who’s gross!” She teeters to the side, bumping into the banister. “You have herpes.”

“Thanks for the health update.” I sling my arm around Luna and tuck her against me. “Do yourself a favor; go drink some water and have someone take you home before you make more of an ass out of yourself.”

“I’m not the one making an ass out of myself!” she shouts, her face reddening. “You’re the one who traded this”—she runs her hands over her hips then narrows her eyes at Luna—“for that freak. Now that’s making an ass out of yourself.”

“I didn’t trade; I upgraded.” It’s a low and stupid blow, but I’ve spent enough time with Piper to know how to kick her where it counts. She gets off on making people feel beneath her. Take that superiority away, and she’s lost.

“That’s bullshit!” she screams with her fists clenched at her side. It’s amazing how many people don’t look in our direction, probably because they’ve witnessed Piper act like this at parties before. “And I’m going to prove it to everyone that your little upgrade is nothing more than a freak loser, just like you used to think she was.” She sucks in a breath at the end and grins, going from hot to cold in two seconds flat. Then she spins around and staggers away with her chin held high, walking a crooked line all the way back to her friends.

I turn to Luna. “Let’s get out of here.”

Luna eagerly nods, and we step for the door. But Logan moves in front of her, and she ends up running into him and almost falls down.

“I just want to understand why he’d go for you over her,” he says, coming at her again with his hand out. “Maybe it’s what’s under that dress? Is that it? Do you have a magic pu—?”

I slam my hand against his chest and roughly shove him back. “I warned you not to fucking touch her, man.”

Logan stumbles back and crashes into the door. His eyes blaze with rage as he growls and charges at me. “I’m so tired of your shit!”

I gently push Luna out of the way and put my hands out to stop him, but he grinds to a halt at the last second and sucker punches me in the jaw.

My ears ring as my teeth knock together. “Goddammit!”

Logan grins and raises his fist again.

This time, I duck and counter-punch him in the stomach then uppercut his jaw. He grunts as the wind gets knocked out of him and collapses to his knees, cupping his chin. I inch toward him with my hand balled into a fist, ready to strike again, but fingers fold around my arm.

“Just let it go,” Luna says. “You’re better than that.”

I’m better than that?

I used to not be. I used to hit and fight with people whenever they pissed me off, but hearing those words come out of her lips—you’re better than that—it makes me think I am. I’m better than what I used to be.

I realize I hate getting into fights, always have.

I lower my arm, and she tangles her fingers through mine. Then we leave the party without a second glance back and get into my car. Neither of us say anything as I back out of the driveway, maneuvering through the long line of cars, and out onto the road. Eventually, I have to say something, though.

“I’m sorry.” I blow out a breath as I stop at a red light. “I feel like I just messed everything up.”

She twists in her seat and brings her leg up, tucking it under her. “Are you kidding me? You were so far from messing that up. You were calm up until Logan decided to take the first swing, and you stood up for me when Piper was tearing me down.”

“It feels like it wasn’t enough, though.”

“It’s exactly what my friends would’ve done for me, and they’re really great friends.”

“Is that what we are?” I search her eyes through the darkness of the cab. “Friends?”

She shrugs. “Being friends means you trust the person, and I trust you.”

“Okay, we can be friends.” My disappointment shows in my voice.

“Or we can be more if you want,” Luna says casually, staring out the window at the houses lining the street.

I line our palms together. “Up until that thing with Piper and Logan, tonight was one of the best nights of my life,” I admit.

“Really?” she asks, completely shocked.

I nod. “I’ve never been so comfortable with someone. You make me feel like I can be myself, and that’s enough.”

“Tonight was pretty amazing for me, too,” she says, smiling, but then her mouth sinks. “Is your jaw going to be all right? He hit you pretty hard.”

“I’m sure it’ll leave a bruise.” My fingers skate across her wrist. “It’ll heal in a few days, though, just as long as I don’t let anyone hit me again.”

She nods, getting my full meaning.

As I drive forward, the heaviness Logan and Piper put on the night fades away. But the second I pull up to her street and park at the corner, a blanket of worry gets thrown over me again as she kisses me then gets out of the car, hurrying up to the side of her dark house. Knowing the people who live there hurt her makes it almost impossible to drive away.

I make another vow to myself, one I know my dad would be proud of.

I’ll help Luna get out of that house, no matter what it takes.