“Yeah.” Weirder than that? She was there at one in the morning and I hadn’t slept with her. I shove my hands into my jeans pockets and silently curse myself.
I glance at Rachel, and she quickly averts her eyes when I spot her spying on me. What the fuck does she see when she looks at me? If she saw what was inside, she’d be screaming. The outside is modest projection.
Rachel can’t like me because she doesn’t know me. The real me. For Rachel, life is still sunshine, rainbows and pink fucking fuzzy unicorns. I’m nothing but darkness, clouds and rats.
I should never have kissed her or brought her home. She deserves better than the brokenness inside me. I’ll hold on to tonight. Burn the memory of the way she’s looked at me into my mind because that’s as close as I’ll ever get to something like this again. Besides, if she saw me in daylight, away from the filth that I live in, she’d change her mind.
Just like Beth did the moment she left town.
Faster than I would have preferred, we reach the parking lot of the auto shop.
“What about your car?” she asks as I enter the security code.
The motor whines as the garage door lifts. “I’ll head over and fix the tire now.”
“Do you want help? I’m pretty crafty with a jack and a tire iron.”
I turn to tell her no and stop when I see her face. I swear, she glows. Her eyes shine like stars, and her smile radiates with a light all its own. My throat swells. I don’t want to give her up. “No. I don’t want you getting into trouble at home.”
“See, you are bossy.” She finally takes her hands out of her pockets and nudges my biceps with one delicate finger.
My heart stutters with her caress, and as she drops her arm, I quickly reach out and snake my fingers through hers. So close to letting her go, I shouldn’t touch her, but in my defense, she touched me first. “Not bossy. Concerned. Truth, Rachel, I want to know if you feel safe going home.”
“It’s fine. Ethan would have texted me if there were problems. Mom and Dad probably haven’t even come home for the night.”
Yeah. I knew all about guardians who stayed out late to party. I guess having money changes nothing in the realm of shitty parenting. “Tell me your brothers protect you.” Because if not, I’d have to meet them in a dark alley sometime and school them on how to treat their sister.
“More like they’re overprotective.”
I savor the feel of the smooth skin of her hand. No girl I have ever touched has had hands this soft. “That’s not a bad thing.”
Rachel releases a frustrated sigh. “You know, I’m starting to think I misjudged you. You sound annoyingly like my brothers.”
She’s right on one thing: she has misjudged me, but not in the way she thinks. “Good. I’m all for overprotection.”
“Bossy.”
I chuckle, and the sound makes her smile. I’m going to miss that smile. Tell her it’s over, asshole. Tell her that you come from two different worlds and that it would never work. Tell her that kiss meant more to you than she could ever imagine. Tell her that you’ll dream about her and think about her, but that’s where it ends.
The color drains from her face and her hand goes limp in mine. Did she figure out I’m bad news on her own? She heads for her car. “Do you have my keys?”
I fish them out of my pocket and toss them to her. With the click of a button, the car unlocks and she opens the passenger door. She keeps her back to me for a second then turns with a piece of paper in her hand. “Here’s my number. I almost forgot to give it to you.”
I swallow as I stare at the number. Tell her. Just fucking tell her. “Rachel...”
“You’ll call, right?” And the small amount of hurt in her voice stabs my heart.
I envelop Rachel in my arms and cup her head to my chest. She smells good. Like the ocean. Like her jacket. I try to memorize the feel of her body against mine: all soft and warm and curves. The paper in her hand crinkles as she links one arm, then another around my waist. Leaning into me, she lets out a contented sigh and I close my eyes with the sound.
Ten seconds. I’ll keep her for ten more seconds.
I want to keep her.
Two.
I shouldn’t.
Four.
Maybe she can see past what I am. We don’t have to be more. We can be friends.
Seven.
I can fix this.
Nine.
I can make anything work.
Ten.
“I’ll call.”
With bright eyes, she shoves the number into my hand. “Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I nod, and without another word, Rachel slips into the driver’s seat, turns over the engine and glides her Mustang out of the auto shop. Grasping my lifeline to her, I watch as her red taillights fade into the distance.
I smile, then groan as I inhale.
I can recognize three girls by their scent. Tonight I learned that Rachel smells like the ocean. Beth reminded me of crushed roses. And this girl—wild honey. I may not see her, but she’s there. Every ounce of happiness flees with the realization that my life can’t be changed. “What do you want, Abby?”
The shadow of a slim figure ghosts its way toward me from the side of the shop. “I hadn’t heard that you found a new plaything.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I haven’t.”
She steps into the streetlight, brushing her long, dark brown hair over the shoulder of her tightly fitted hoodie. “Why so testy, Isaiah? She seemed cute. Spunky. I like cute and spunky. I had a bunny like that once, one of those large fluffy ones.”
“You don’t seem like the bunny type.”
“I’m not.” Her dark eyes wickedly flash over me. “Hence the word once.”
“What do you want?” I repeat, glancing at the nonexistent watch on my arm. “It’s late.”
Abby and I have a weird friendship, which is odd since Abby doesn’t do relationships. The sarcastic curve of her lips indicates that, in this moment, she’s temporarily placed our friendship on the back burner. “My, my. We are emotional tonight. But to answer your question, I was on my way to your apartment because we have business to take care of, and I decided to stall our plans when I saw cute and spunky.”
She pauses, waiting for me to fill her in on Rachel. The only answer she receives is the buzzing from the overhead streetlight. “So does this mean you’re finally over Beth?”
If Abby were acting as my friend, I might tell her. But life for Abby, especially here recently, is all about business. Even though she’s only on the verge of turning seventeen. “Cut to the chase.”
“You are no fun,” she says as she reaches into the back pocket of her practically painted-on jeans and pulls out a wad of cash. “I saw Eric tonight. Well, I hid Eric tonight.”
That catches my attention. “You hate Eric.” And Eric hates her. Their “businesses” often collide on the streets.
“I like the idea of Eric owing me a favor.” Figures. Abby is always working an angle.
“What’s this have to do with me?”
Like a five-year-old on a playground, Abby grabs on to the metal utility pole with her outstretched hand and walks in a slow circle. “We had time to kill so we chatted.”