Devil May Care: Boxed Set (133 page)

While she was talking, Penelope was staring at me. She really was a cute baby. I had been around a few in various foster homes, but she was probably the cutest of them all. Her eyes were really familiar. Beautiful eyes. She’d have all the guys calling her one day…if they were willing to put up with Walter’s shit.

Roslyn shifted slightly, breaking whatever spell the baby had on me. Was Roslyn trying to help me? Or trap me? I couldn’t tell.

Suddenly, she was standing and placing the baby in my arms.

“What…” I moved my arms, shifting her around, afraid I’d drop her. She wasn’t a newborn, but she was still small.

“Have your arms like this,” she instructed, adjusting my elbow. “There. Oops. Up higher. Yes, that’s it. You’ve never held a baby before, have you?”

“No.” I held my breath, not wanting to move, afraid of jarring Penelope.

The baby was so small in my arms, felt so light. She was smiling and drooling a little bit, babbling. Every so often she said a few real words, or at least they sounded like real words.

A strange feeling came over me. A rush of warmth toward this baby. I felt protective of her. Was I…yeah, I was already enamored with her, my innocent baby step-sister. With her, everything was so different than it was with April. I wanted her to be safe and happy. I wanted that for April too, but with Penelope, I wanted to protect her from Walter and the rest of the world, put her in a bubble so she could be given everything she wanted. I kind of wanted to set an example for her, to be someone she could look up to. Not that I would be here long enough for her to remember me. The thought saddened me.

And I hated to think she’d be trapped in this house for years and years. Would she have to grow up in a hellhole like I did? Like April seemed to have?

Another desire bubbled up within me, geared toward April, but it had nothing to do with sex. I wanted to steal April away, to save her from this place. It wouldn’t be good for her to stay her longer. She’d never be free to learn who she could be, to become the woman she could be.

She deserved a chance to live her life the way she wanted to—not the way Walter wanted for her, not the way Roslyn wanted.

Not the way I wanted.

She should be free to make her own choices, to do what she wanted, to fail and succeed.

April would never have that here, but she’d never leave. Not on her own.

April

I thought it would be easier and easier to ignore him, but it only got worse, especially right now. I was spying on him as he was sitting on the couch, tenderly holding the baby. I couldn’t believe it. Stripped away was his bad boy nature, and it was forcing me to think of him in a new light.

A light that would never go away. I wanted to be the one he was holding, to be sitting on his lap, for us to not be wearing any clothes.

Unreal. I was even more sexually frustrated. How could I get him out of my system? Something was wrong with me. Really wrong with me. I was beginning to get concerned. I had never been like this with Adam or any of my previous crushes. I’d never been…obsessed. There was no other word for it. I was hyperaware of him at all times, always wondering what he was doing, if he thought about me as much as I thought about him.

But why would he be? He had new friends. And
Lizzy.

I never had a problem with Lizzy before Wes befriended her. Our social circles didn’t mix much. She was uber popular and hung out with the jocks and cheerleaders. I was beneath the likes of her, and I didn’t care. Popularity didn’t matter to me. I would rather have more quality friends than desperately needing a bunch of people to cling to me as if I was a queen. I didn’t think highly of Lizzy, and she probably didn’t think highly of me either. We just didn’t mix. She slept around. I didn’t. She dated a new guy every two weeks or so. I didn’t. I wanted a meaningful relationship. She just wanted sex.

Well, I kind of wanted sex too, or at least I was curious about it. I’d been kissed a few times, but they hadn’t been on the lips so they didn’t count, and the one boyfriend I dated for a substantial amount of time I didn’t allow to touch me. That had been three years ago, when I had been naïve and unwilling to touch myself, let alone think about actually having sex. I’d never seen a penis, let alone touched one.

Penis. Cock. I mulled the words over in my mind. Penis seemed too vanilla, too goody two shoes-like. Cock. More vulgar. More fitting.

I wanted to touch a cock.

Not just any cock.

Wes’s.

Adam was a good guy. He did volunteer work, he was bright, and he was hot. He was perfect for me.

But I didn’t want him as much sexually as I did Wes. Life would be so much easier if I did. Why was I so drawn to Wes?

I shouldn’t be worrying about this. I should be forcing myself to think about anything other than Wes. I definitely shouldn’t be analyzing my feelings for him. But I lingered there, watching him with Penelope, and I thought I figured it out.

Adam didn’t need me. Not like Wes did. Wes was damaged and hurt and betrayed. His life had been so hard. He needed some goodness in his life.

He sure as Hell didn’t need a girl like Lizzy in it. But could I help him? Or was I just falling into that mysterious bad boy trap? People didn’t change, right? That only happened in movies and books. Not in real life.

Head down, I walked past the living room and went straight up to my room. I lay on my bed and tried to forget about Wes, to blot him out of my mind. But I couldn’t. As I drifted off, my last thought was if he ever masturbated while thinking about me and hoping that he had or that he would in the future.

***

Friday rolled around, and as soon as I walked into school, everyone was buzzing about Lizzy’s party—who was going, who was wearing what, what kind of drinks they planned on having, what drugs might be available to try.

I hadn’t been invited—not that I wanted to be—but Wes had to have been. Was he going? I tried to tell myself it was step-sisterly to care, but my worry was a little deeper than a sister should feel for a brother. It was more than just concern. It was almost obsessive.

At lunchtime, I went to sit with the girls when I spied Wes entering the cafeteria. Before he could go sit with his friends, I rushed over to his side. “Hey, Wes.”

He paused and glanced over at me. “Wes?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. He sounded amused.

I tried my best not to blush. “If you prefer Wesley…”

“You can call me whatever you want.” His lips twisted into a slow, easy grin, and my stomach did a flip-flop. He leaned closer, and I resisted leaning back. “You can scream my name too, if you’d like,” he whispered sensually.

Now I was definitely blushing. Was Lizzy watching us talk? The likes of her would never feel threatened by the likes of me. Wes loved to watch me squirm, that much was very clear, and I wanted to turn the tables on him, or at least try to. “Ever wanted to scream my name?” I countered.

“While I’m stroking my cock you mean?”

I gaped. Yes, I had been thinking and wondering this all week long, but for him to say it out loud, for him to be so vulgar and foul-mouthed around so many people…it was such a turn-on.

Time to change the subject. “Are you…are you going to Lizzy’s party?”

He pulled back, and I immediately missed his closeness. I was sick. There was something wrong with me. He was toying with me. He didn’t really want me. Not like I wanted him.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked causally, maybe with a little attitude. But then he grinned again, cocky as ever. “Are you planning on going?”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head emphatically. “No real reason. I was just wondering.”

He eyed me, and I couldn’t tell if he bought it or not. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

I blinked. That really surprised me.

And it also made me absurdly happy.
You haven’t sunken your claws into him, Lizzy.

“You shouldn’t go either,” he added.

Was he looking out for me?

“You’ll get eaten alive,” he finished. Without waiting for me to respond, he walked away and joined his friends, sitting next to Lizzy of course.

Or was he saying I wasn’t in their class? He was definitely more popular than I was, but popularity wasn’t something I ever wanted. I would rather be happy being me than faking it, like some kids did to be a member of the cool kids.

Then again, was I happy being me? I wasn’t sure how I felt about Wes, but I did like that he challenged me. He kept me on my toes. No one ever did that to me before.

A phase. I was just going through the same phase most girls did—falling for a bad boy, the one off limits. It would pass. Maybe then I could finally get Adam to really notice me. Start something with him. Because I shouldn’t start anything with Wes. I was a smart girl, and that just wasn’t smart.

You’ll get eaten alive.

A warning? A threat?

Or a challenge?

***

Dinnertime. Twice a day, I was forced to have meals with Wes and the rest of my family. It reinforced how much I shouldn’t want him, that he was a part of my family. I found it easier to ignore him when we were forced together, so I tended not to talk much during breakfast or dinner anymore. Wes hardly spoke either. P and P and all of the adults more than made up for our silence.

Did he spend his dinners thinking about Lizzy? She had an awful habit of hanging all over him at lunch every day. Obviously he hadn’t told her to stop. They weren’t dating, but was it only a matter of time? She had to be much more his speed. No way was he a virgin, not with his arrogance. Maybe he’d already slept with a Lizzy-type before. Whatever. If he wanted to associate with trashy girls like her, he could go for it. I wasn’t about to stop him. He could make his own decisions, his own mistakes. Because Lizzy and those types were mistakes. They never did anything for anyone other than themselves.

Tonight, the dinner table was quieter than normal. I pushed the peas around on my plate. While I was glad Wes wasn’t going to the party, the more I thought about it, the more his comment bothered me. He thought I was so removed from his friends. Eaten alive. Like I couldn’t handle myself at a wild party. Like I was a child.

“Wesley,” Yvonne suddenly said.

I glanced at her. She hardly ever talked to him. She didn’t talk to me that much either, for that matter.

“Your hair. It’s a little long, don’t you think? It might be time to get a haircut. A buzz cut might look…nice on you.”

I wrinkled my nose. I liked Wes’s hair. It was the kind a girl could run her fingers through. Lizzy had already. Man, I was so jealous of her. I was thinking about her as much as I was Wes, but for a completely different reason.

Dinner was quickly becoming awkward. Even P and P noticed. They were glancing from Yvonne to Wes.

“A buzz cut, yes,” my dad agreed. He nodded several times.

A buzz cut? Really? It was too military for Wes. At least he wasn’t back talking them. It would only make things worse, although Dad might view his silence as ignoring them, and that wouldn’t be good either. Why were they bringing this up now?

He took a bite of his spaghetti.

“And your clothes.” Yvonne shook her head. “Your jeans hang a little too low, don’t you think, Jacqueline?”

His mom shifted in her seat a little uncomfortably. “Maybe a little,” she murmured, staring at her plate rather than her son.

“Yes. Your clothes, your looks, your appearance…you might want to try a little harder.” Dad put down his knife and fork. “How you present yourself is important. First impressions mean everything. How do you want people to think of you? Do your clothes and appearance work for you or against you?”

Dad’s tone suggested Wes needed to change and yesterday. Still, Wes didn’t respond, but his knuckles were whitening as he gripped his fork. He was furious, and I didn’t blame him. They were ganging up on him, and he was expected to take it without complaint.

“Really, Wesley, you should talk more. We’re having a discussion here, aren’t we?” Yvonne glanced at Dad, who nodded again. “There’s no reason to be so quiet all the time.”

“Your personality is a little…lacking,” Dad said.

Ouch. How could he say that? That was downright cruel! I wanted to say something, to speak up, but I couldn’t. What if I blushed and stammered? I didn’t have a poker face, and if they figured out my secret desire for Wes…

And I knew better than to speak up for another reason. I didn’t want their watchful eye on me. Sometimes it was better to keep your head down. Of course, when they were making comments about your anti-social behavior, it might be the time to speak up.

“If you shaved more,” Yvonne suggested.

“Wore clothes that fit and weren’t ripped,” Dad added.

“Maybe wore some cologne.”

Was she trying to suggest he smelled? At least Mom wasn’t saying anything, and other than the one comment, Wes’s mom was quiet too. This was terrible. I wasn’t even the subject of their criticisms, and I still felt like I was being scolded. They had that way about them, like they knew best, and we were stupid.

No, they only wanted to help us, even if they were talking down to us. While I thought Wes looked good with his slightly wild hair and his stubble, and he looked hot in his clothes, they weren’t exactly the style that screamed professionalism, and I knew Dad was serious about Wes finding a job. Putting one’s best foot forward was the best way to get ahead in life, like Dad would always say.

“Why don’t you ever tell us about your grades?” Yvonne asked. “You can talk to us about anything.”

“Grades or your friends. Do you have any friends?” Dad asked.

Wes maintained his silence, for better or worse. He had to think they were jerks. I had been on the other side of their criticisms before, but never like this, never to this extent. And they weren’t really giving him much of a chance to respond either, not that I thought he would. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably stay quiet too.