Текст книги "Crash into You"
Автор книги: Katie McGarry
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 27 страниц)
Chapter 30
Rachel
WITH A HUFF, I FLIP over in my bed again. It’s Sunday night, I have hours ’til school, and I can’t sleep. This does not bode well for me keeping my routine in the morning. The same thought circles my brain like one of those news tickers at the bottom of a TV screen: Isaiah.
He said he liked me. And the way he said it, the way his body was pressed against mine and how his hands held my body...that’s not the I-like-you-as-a-friend kind of like. It’s possibly the same like I feel for him. The type of like where I go sort of crazy when I don’t see him and then go crazier when I do. The type where he consumes my thoughts and then I can’t sleep.
Like now.
Isaiah said he liked me, and I didn’t say a word back.
The hurt in his eyes; the way his shoulders crumpled as he turned away from me...I am an awful person. I pull the covers over my head. What is wrong with me? A really great, really hot guy tells me that he cares for me, and I freeze. And to make it worse, the courage to contact him completely eludes me.
I now understand why so many deer are hit by cars.
I emerge from the covers and reach for my phone. The screen lights up the moment I swipe at it. One in the morning. Who else in the world would be awake at one in the morning? No one. The rest of the world knows how to sleep. The rest of the world wouldn’t blow the biggest moment of their lives.
I scroll through my contacts until I find Isaiah. Underneath his picture is his name and number. My mouth dries out as I ponder the possibility. I could text him.
Nerves cause my heart to beat faster. What if I text him and he doesn’t text back? But what if I text him and he does text back?
Not allowing time to overanalyze the decision, I quickly type and hit Send.
Chapter 31
Isaiah
THE STREETLIGHT SHINES THROUGH THE slats of the blinds, creating a light ladder on the wooden floor. I fell into bed an hour ago, and at one in the morning I still can’t sleep.
Noah’s mattress creaks as he rolls and throws his arms out as if he’s searching for something. More like someone. When he comes up empty, his eyes crack open into slits. Echo’s staying at the dorms tonight, and he’s here because he’s pulling an early shift this morning. Noah messes his hands through his hair then lets out a disgruntled sigh as he resettles.
I swing my legs off the bed and my bare feet hit the cold subfloor. I rub at my bare chest, hoping to wake the rest of me up. My body’s tired, but my mind won’t shut off. I want to chase after the girl, but I don’t know how. Short of going to her house and scaling the walls like a punked-out Romeo, I’ve got no idea how to win Rachel. Besides, that Romeo shit is not my style.
Maybe a drive will clear my head.
“What’s eating you?” Noah asks with his eyes closed.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
Except for the fact he said something, Noah appears asleep. He’s been working his ass off between school, studying, seeing his brothers and Echo, then squeezing in as many hours as he can flipping burgers to keep us afloat. The most I see him is when he sleeps at night. The kid is almost a walking corpse.
“You’re worried about the money for rent, aren’t you?” Noah mutters.
Fuck me. I slide both hands over my face then cup my mouth and my nose. On top of owing Eric, I owe Noah money for rent. I can’t believe I forgot. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I don’t want to fail you.”
“You won’t. You aren’t.” My shoulders roll forward like I’ve got a damn aircraft carrier on my back. I’ve thought time and time again about telling Noah the truth, but I haven’t. Only because there never seems to be a good time, but now I can’t tell him. I can’t let him shoulder this burden. Not when he already has too much riding on him. “It’ll work out.”
Noah opens his eyes and examines me. “Yeah, it will, so don’t do anything fucked-up over it.”
Pressure builds in my neck because I already know what he’s referring to. “Like what?”
“Like street racing. Seeing Beth in handcuffs gave me my fill of police stations for a lifetime. I don’t need you to be joining the ranks.”
My phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans on the floor. I close my eyes. It’s gotta be Beth. She’s the only one who’d text this late.
Noah throws his arm back over his face. “Answer her, Isaiah. Beth’s going nuts over your silence.”
“Not interested in making her feel better.”
“Here’s some crazy shit—maybe I’m more interested in you feeling better. If you could find a way to let her go maybe I’d see you happy again. Like you were the night you brought Rachel home.”
Anger twists in my body. Noah’s talking about stuff he should stay away from. “Fuck you.”
Noah raises his hand and flashes me the finger.
I grab my shirt and start to lift off the bed, but when my eyes drift to my jeans my ass hits the mattress again. To hell with this. To hell with her. Beth fell in love with Ryan. For weeks she acted like she couldn’t stand him, but knowing her like I do...like I did...Beth didn’t like people who made her feel.
And damn me to hell, she felt something for him.
Without thinking too much about it, I snatch the phone out of my jeans. If Beth wants to talk, we’ll talk. I’ll tell her everything I think about her and Ryan and her idea that we can be friends.
The phone springs to life and my heart stalls out. It wasn’t Beth.
It’s weird how the anger and tension recedes. What rattles me the most is the flood of anticipation and nerves. Like swaying right on the edge of being high or drunk. The message from Rachel is simple, but the olive branch extended is weighted: Hi
I stare at it like it’s the answer to life after death. Shit, in my case it probably is: Hey
Can’t sleep?
No. You?
I can feel my pulse at every pressure point in my body. Seconds pass, and there’s a longer pause as I wait for her next message. Come on, angel. Don’t leave me hanging like you did on Saturday night.
At the dragway you said you liked me.
I lower my head. She’s going to make me put it in writing. I’ve never felt so much like a sideshow monkey as I do now: Yeah, I like you. A lot.
I pop my neck to the side. How fucking long does it take to write a response?
I like you too and I’m also scared.
I inhale air and release it like a man who’s been pulled from the bottom of a lake. She likes me. I want to see you tomorrow morning.
I have school.
I’ll meet you there.
You have school. Rachel texts back immediately. And your school starts before mine.
I chuckle. How have I ended up pursuing a girl as naive as her? It’s called skipping. What time do you get to school?
Isaiah!
I chuckle again as I imagine those beautiful violet eyes widening and her cheeks turning red at the thought of doing something wrong. I’m skipping. You’re not.
Noah turns over in bed to face me. “Did you just laugh, bro?”
“If I swing by the Malt and Burger tomorrow can you score me breakfast?”
He assesses me and the cell. “If it’ll get you to shut up and go to bed.”
A smile forms on my lips. “Go to hell.”
“Fuck you.”
“Original, man. Think I said that earlier.”
“Tell Rachel I said hi.” My best friend knows me.
My phone vibrates again. I can be there by 8.
I roll onto my back and hold the phone up as I text back: See you then.
Chapter 32
Rachel
I RELEASE A SHAKY BREATH as I pull into my school’s parking lot. One hour before the first bell, Worthington resembles a dystopian ghost town. I’ve trashed my morning routine, but it’ll either be really worth it or the resulting aftermath will send me into a panic attack never before seen by man. Only time will tell, but the mere thought of meeting with Isaiah is enough to force me out of my shell.
Bypassing every open spot, I turn down the one-lane road to the overflow lot and millions of butterflies spring to life in my stomach when I spot Isaiah leaning against his black Mustang. It’s seven-fifty in the morning. He’s early and he’s waiting for me. This is totally unreal.
I ease my car beside him and my hands tremble when I shift into Park and pull the keys out of the ignition.
Breathe. Air in. Air out.
Breathe.
Keeping the flow of air going, I fiddle with the keys in my lap. Driving here was the simple part. Simple. I wish I could make Isaiah and me simple.
I glance up, and he watches me through the windshield. The moment our eyes meet he holds up a white bag. The door feels heavy as I open it, and the cool morning air nips at my legs. As I approach Isaiah, I smooth out a lock of my hair and flatten my hands against my coat, then my skirt. I like him. He says he likes me. For the first time in my life, I really want to look my best for someone because...well, because I want him to see me as special.
In his worn blue jeans and a black T-shirt, the early-morning sun hits Isaiah just right, highlighting him like he’s a relaxed tiger bathing in the warmth. The light glints off his double rows of hoop earrings and there’s a twinkle in his eyes that makes me feel like he has a secret, but not the type kept from me. No, it’s the type that suggests I’m in on it, and that it involves a lack of my clothes.
And maybe some of his.
As if I spoke the thought instead of keeping it internal, Isaiah lifts his shirt to scratch at a spot right above his hip bone. Good Lord, he’s pretty. I soak in the sight of the muscles in his abdomen like I’m a plant in the Sahara Desert, except it doesn’t quench my thirst. It only causes my mouth to run dry.
Isaiah smiles like he knows what I’m thinking, and heat licks up my body and pools in my cheeks. What really causes my blood to curve into itself is the wicked gleam in his eye. It’s a spark that says he’s done very naughty things I’ve never even heard about.
“I brought food,” he says.
My stomach growls at the words and my head falls back because he had to hear it. God, why am I always a walking disaster? “I missed breakfast.” And the rest of my morning routine. “So this is awesome.”
The bag crunches in his hand when he holds it out and I step close enough to take it from him. My mouth waters as the scent of bacon, toasted carbs and sausage wafts into the air. I peek inside. “That’s a lot of food. Do you also eat small children as appetizers?”
“I didn’t know what you liked so...” He trails off and takes a sudden interest in the nearby football field.
I brush my bangs away from my face and have to force myself not to bounce. He bought me breakfast. I bite my lip to stop the smile, but then let it go. I’m happy and I don’t care if he knows. “Thanks.”
“S’all good.”
In the middle of the bag is a half-wrapped bagel with cream cheese oozing down the sides. It’s like I died and went to heaven. I pull it out and hand the bag to Isaiah while motioning at him with the bagel. “Do you want some of this?”
“Not a bagel guy.” Isaiah chooses a breakfast sandwich that’s more meat than biscuit. I break off parts of the bagel and eat them while he bites into his. Everything about us is different, yet from what little I know there are some things that are the same—like how we love cars.
But that’s probably the problem. I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me. I like what I’ve seen. I like most of what I’ve experienced with him, but is it enough? Halfway through one side of the bagel, I lick my fingers and wrap it back up. “I’m sort of a mess.”
Isaiah slows down his chewing, and I watch as he swallows. “I have to say that is the first time a girl has used that as a come-on line.”
I laugh without thinking then slam my hand over my mouth because it shocks me that it popped out. “I wasn’t coming on to you.”
His eyes linger way too long where my uniform skirt ends above my knees. “You sure about that? Because those legs are telling me something different.”
My knees rub together as I shift. I have never been as aware of my body as when I’m around Isaiah. My outside, my insides, everywhere—even places I never thought much about before. Places that sort of wake up in his presence. “I was trying to tell you something. Something important.”
Isaiah tucks the rest of his sandwich in the bag and places it on the hood of the car. I still hold the bagel and it becomes that obvious thing in my hand that I don’t know what to do with. Nerves have tightened my throat, making finishing it impossible, but there’s no way I’m trashing it. Isaiah brought it for me.
Playing mind reader, Isaiah holds out his hand. “It’ll stay warm in the bag.” I hand the bagel to him and he asks, “So what are you trying to tell me?”
Why couldn’t I have just been happy eating the bagel? “I’m complicated.”
He shrugs like it’s no big thing. “So am I.”
“No.” My fingers close into a fist. “My family is really, really...” Messed up. “Complicated.”
“You told me that,” he says. “At my apartment.”
Yeah, I did.
“Are you in danger at home?” he asks.
“No,” I answer immediately. “They just expect a lot...from me.”
He nods like he gets it. “Will seeing me be a problem?”
While there’s this overwhelming voice screaming yes in the back of my mind, there’s a smile twisting on my face and I bring my hands together in front of me, feeling suddenly shy. Did he just say...? “So we’re seeing each other?”
Isaiah touches an earring. “Yeah. I guess we are.”
My head bobs back and forth because I so need more. “Like more than friends?”
“We can be friends if you want. But...”
“But what?” My stomach begins to plummet. Did I misread all of this?
His gray eyes bore into mine with an intensity I’ve never seen from anyone before. “But I want more.”
“More?” I whisper.
“I want to kiss you again.”
A heat wave crashes into my body and I tug at the collar of my winter coat. I could take this thing off and probably still sweat. The memories of his mouth moving against mine and how his hands pressed into my body flood my brain. I lick my lips in anticipation. I crave for him to kiss me again, but... “Are you going to call me after?”
A small grin plays on his lips. “You aren’t going to cut me any slack, are you?”
It’s like he’s begging me to tease him, and without thought, I slide back to the braver girl at the bar. “Is that a problem?”
He shakes his head. “Not from you.”
Isaiah pushes off his car and invades my personal space. His dark scent envelops me and my heart literally trips several times as it tries to continue to beat. Even though he doesn’t touch me, it’s like Isaiah is everywhere. Only centimeters separate us, but his warmth surrounds me like a bubble.
I have to force myself to lift my chin to look at him. His gray eyes soften, and there’s this playful aura to him, accompanied by a devious tilt of his mouth.
“I feel like a mouse with you,” I whisper. “The one that’s already been caught by the cat.”
That’s when he touches me. Isaiah runs his hand through my hair, and every cell in my body vibrates with the gentle pull. “Rachel.”
“Yes.” It’s hard to breathe.
“Kiss me.”
Isaiah doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead his lips meet mine and his arms wrap around my body. All the hesitancy I felt the first night we kissed evaporates like mist on the heels of a summer storm. Within seconds, our mouths open, and Isaiah slips his tongue against mine. I get lost, liking the way my body curves around his, liking the way my hands explore as if they have a mind of their own, and loving how Isaiah grips my hair while tracing my spine.
Tingles and shock waves and earthquakes and hurricanes. All of it takes place at the same time as our mouths move not nearly fast enough. Nothing seems fast enough. The closer I become, the closer Isaiah presses, and the more he presses, the more I want to crawl inside and live in this delicious world of warmth and fantastic hunger.
Isaiah hooks an arm around my waist, and I suck in a breath when he turns us and shifts me up against the door to his Mustang. My eyes widen and I stare up at him as he stares down at me. Our chests move in unison, as do our breaths. My fingers curl into the muscles of his arms, and I briefly close my eyes, loving how his body fits into mine.
As much as I love it...this is so, so new. “That was a pretty awesome second kiss.”
“I agree. How about a third?”
I giggle, and that rare genuine smile spreads across his face.
“How about we try out our third kiss somewhere other than my school’s parking lot?”
Isaiah rubs that sensitive spot on my shoulder right near the curve of my neck. “I think that sounds like a plan.”
I glance over at the main parking lot and note that cars have begun to fill the first few rows. As much as I wish this moment could last forever, it can’t. Especially when I have two brothers who would lose their minds if they caught me like this with Isaiah. “I don’t know what to do about my family.”
“You like me, right?”
I nod.
“That’s all that matters. Let’s figure this out, pay off Eric, and then we’ll tackle the rest.”
The blood drains from my face at the mention of Eric and I slip my hands down from his shoulders to wrap around his stomach.
As if knowing that Eric haunts me, Isaiah brings his arms around me, creating this protective blanket. I rest my head on his solid chest and listen to the sound of his heart. I could get very used to this.
After a few seconds, Isaiah kisses the top of my head. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“I trust you.” I regretfully slide away. “You’re going back to school, right?”
“Yeah.” Isaiah pulls out the bagel and I take it as the need to bounce again returns. “Go on to class, Rachel. One of us shouldn’t break all the rules.”
“I think I’m a rule breaker,” I say. “I mean, I did drag race.”
Isaiah chuckles. “You’re gangster for sure.”
With a silly smile plastered on my face, I retrieve my backpack from the passenger side of my car and wave at Isaiah before walking away.
Midway across the student lot, my phone rings, and I have to juggle the bagel in order to reach it before the call goes to voice mail. Quickly swallowing a piece, I answer. “Hello?”
“Hey, Rachel?” Isaiah says.
I spin around and in the distance I can spot him leaning against his car again. “Yes?”
“I called.”
Joy blossoms through me, from my toes up into the rest of my body to the point that I look down to see if I’m flying. “Yeah, you did.”
Chapter 33
Isaiah
I LEAN AGAINST THE FRAME of a ’76 Nova and listen as the guys from class shoot the shit during the last remaining minutes of school. Today, some other guys from class and I taught the freshmen how to strip the paint. With the paint job done, they continue their jacked-up conversation about some jock from school caught juicing. Life must suck when you have parents and money to blow on steroids.
I pull out my phone and reread last night’s conversation with Rachel. The two of us text. Sometimes we talk on the phone. Because of her parents and brothers, it’s hard for her to get out to see me, and I don’t want her taking a risk that’ll raise flags when we have other days that require her being out of the house.
I try not to overanalyze what’s going on with Rachel. I like her. She likes me. At some point, she’ll change her mind, but for now I’ll enjoy the ride.
In another world, she would have been the kind of girl I would have taken to dinner and a movie. I would have knocked on her front door, met her father, charmed her mother, brought flowers and done all that wooing shit that guys are supposed to do when trying to win the girl.
But all that crap means I would have lived another life. One with parents who gave a damn. One where I had a home and maybe a bed frame, maybe a room. In the span of one week, I’ve done the two things the system taught me never to do: felt too much and dreamed of a different life. Wandering thoughts and feelings lead to an impending wreck.
I shove it all away. I’ve had a past that promises no future so it’s better to stick with the present.
Last night, my remaining favors came in. I bring up Rachel’s name in a text message. It’s time for me and her to meet again.
Me: where r u
The right side of my mouth tilts up with Rachel’s immediate reply: intern in library 4 last period
Me: got the parts I need 4 your car. Come tomorrow.
Rachel: Thursday w Mom, remember?
She mentioned earlier in the week that she had plans with her mom that night.
Me: Friday, right after school.
Her: K
Because I don’t want to let her go yet: Saturday we race.
Her: :)
“Isaiah,” says Zach from the middle of the group. “You smiling?”
Yeah, guess I am. I slide my phone back into my pocket and the smile off my face. My image has kept me alive, and I play the part to perfection: badass, loyal, ready for a fight. “You staring, man?”
He raises a hand. “No offense meant. Are you taking the ASE certification next week?”
I nod and watch the second hand of the clock. Only a few more seconds until the bell.
“Some of us are worried,” Zach says. “About passing.”
I’ve failed a lot of tests in my life, but this is the one I know I can kill. The ten guys I’ve gone through the program with since my freshman year focus on me. For most of these guys, myself included, the ASE is our key to avoid becoming minimum-wage car-wash attendants. “Holden gave us a study guide.”
“We all know you’re gonna pass,” says Zach. That humming sensation that informs me something’s not right vibrates below my skin. Several of the guys glance cautiously at each other.
As if preparing for a fight, I widen my stance. “What’s this about?”
Most look away or shuffle back. Zach also averts his gaze, but he keeps talking. “You know it’s computerized, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And we’ll all be in the same room?”
“Yeah.”
“What if we could find a way where you could offer us assistance during the test?”
The muscles in my shoulders flex, and the guys closest to me take an interest in the equipment behind them. “I’ve carried your ass for four years, showing you the same shit with cars over and over again. I think that’s been enough assistance.”
The bell rings and everyone bolts for the door—everyone but me and Zach. Cheating on this test could cost me my certification, and I will not permit anyone to fuck up my future. His shoulders slump and I head for the exit.
“Isaiah,” he says as my arm smacks into his. “I hear you’re in debt to Eric.”
I freeze, our arms still touching. “So.”
He shrugs, but he’s anything but uncaring. “Just repeating what I heard. Wouldn’t want things to become worse.”
I shift so that we’re chest to chest and tilt my head so that I’m in his face. “Is that a threat?”
Zach wilts because the ass has always been a coward. “Not if you remember who your friends are.” He slinks toward the hallway and turns at the last minute. “And if the person you were texting was Rachel, tell her I said hi.”
Certain truths are always self-evident: on the streets there is no such thing as a friend. Zach could be playing odds right now, knowing I’m in debt to Eric and trying to ride the coattails of my fears, but Zach’s never been the creative sort.
That sick sixth sense continues to rattle around in my brain. If Zach’s become Eric’s lapdog then my life and Rachel’s life just entered another realm of complicated, because that means Eric has upped the stakes of the game.
Twenty buck says that while Rachel and I have been moving pawns, Eric just moved his rook.
