Graham (Scandalous Boys Book 2) (8 page)

He pulls me into his chest and strokes my hair. “Shhh … please stop crying. I’ll be downstairs; I won’t even be in the room. Just, please, for my sanity—trust me, there’s very little left. I just need you to stay here. For a couple of hours, and then I’ll take you back. I promise.”

I pull back a little, sniffle, and nod. “Fine, you win. I’ll stay, but only if you aren’t in here.”

“Okay.”

Chapter Eleven

Graham

I sigh as I adjust my body against the couch. It’s been a little over an hour since I left Sarah in my room. There isn’t shit on TV this early in the morning, just crappy cartoons, infomercials, and movies I’ve seen so many times it’s sad.

I should take a nap but for some reason can’t. My nerves are shot, and I’m worried she’ll try to sneak out of the house. She might think I’m being ridiculous or paranoid, but I care. Even though I probably shouldn’t give a shit, I do. No matter what, I’ll always care because she was the first person I said those damn three words to, and I meant them.

I push myself to a sitting position and scrub my hands over my face. Shoving myself off the couch, I make my way up to my room. I open the door slowly and step inside. Sarah is curled up on the left side of my bed with her knees practically brushing the wall.

Sitting in my computer chair, I flip open my laptop and check my email. My inbox is full of stupid shit like reminders about tests I won’t be taking, the last day to drop classes, and—my favorite—to make an appointment with your class advisor for your spring courses. I slam the screen shut. A small whimper pulls my attention away from my own frustrated thoughts.

Sarah stirs beneath the sheets and sobs, “Don’t leave. Don’t.”

I walk over to the bed and take a seat next to her. She still tosses around and cries for something or someone not to leave. “Sarah,” I whisper while wrapping my arm around her thrashing body. Pulling her to me, I continue, “I got you. Hey, it’s okay. I got you.”

She inhales deeply and relaxes against me. I draw circles along her back. “I got you, babe. I always do.”

While she uses my chest as a pillow I let my fears seep in. I can’t fall for her again, but here I am comforting her, protecting her, and for what? She’ll leave me as soon as she finds out the reason I’m here in town. She’ll think I’m just as bad as Tucker.

I shouldn’t do this. Either way, I’m going to suffer. Eventually she’ll move on, and I might be here to see it, and that doesn’t sit right with me. I brush some strands of her hair from her cheek and kiss her forehead.

She moans lightly, “Mmm, Graham.”

I can’t help but smirk. She’s either dreaming about me, or she remembers my kisses. Both have me feeling awesome. I continue lightly drawing circles on her back and close my eyes.

***

A rush of pain jolts me awake. Sarah’s heated glare has me pinned. I caress my jaw and ask, “What happened?”

“You … You … jackass!” She storms about my room flinging her hands in the air. “You promised to stay out of here.”

“I did,” I defend myself, but as her eyes narrow I know it was the wrong word to use. “I was. There was nothing on TV, so I came up here. I checked my email, and then you started—”

“Started to what?” She folds her arms.

“You yelled in your sleep for something or someone not to leave. Look, I know I’ve been coming off as a dick. But I’m not a complete asshole. You sounded like you were having a nightmare, so I laid down with you only to comfort you. It seemed to work, because you stopped mumbling and tossing in your sleep.” She’s eyeing me up like she’s ready to rip off my nuts, so I leave off the part where she whispered my name in her sleep.

She takes a step back and twists a lock of her own hair around her finger. “I need to go home. Take me back to my car.”

I nod and don’t say another word to her.

On our way to the grocery store, I put the radio on loud so we can continue the silent treatment between us. I glance over at her every once in a while during the drive. Her gaze is fixed on the passenger window. A couple of times I catch her shoulders rising and dropping quickly, as if she’s letting out frustrated breaths of air. She’s not the only one frustrated, that’s for sure.

What am I doing? I’m just supposed to do my hours and get my ass back to school, not worry about her. But lately she’s been on my mind more than I like.

I grip the steering wheel tighter. The damn grocery store is coming into view. I pull up next to her car, expecting her to bolt from mine as soon I throw it in park. She doesn’t. She lingers, and I bite back a smile that wants to appear. “Well, you’re here.”

“Thanks for the ride.”

I shrug like it’s no big deal. I’m such an asshole. “Yeah, well, it was whatever.”

She glares at me, opens the door, gets out, and slams the door closed. I roll down my window as I watch her stomp her sexy ass over to her car’s driver’s side. “Hey, you don’t have to throw a tantrum at my car door.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Graham!” Then she gets into her car and fires the engine.

I watch her peel out in the parking lot as she drives off. I would go after her … but I don’t. What I need to do is clear my head. Of her. My thoughts. Of just everything.

Chapter Twelve

Sarah

It’s been a week since I’ve seen Graham. I hope I never see him again. Him and all his gorgeous smiles … and sexy abs. Ever since he’s rooted himself in my life again, he’s been nothing but trouble.

On my way to sociology, I spot Tucker, leaning into some other girl, playing with a strand of her hair while she giggles and smiles at him. It fuels my anger. That should be me. So what if Tucker is a huge player? Graham obviously is a huge player too.

Ah! I shouldn’t think about Graham or compare him to other people.

I trudge on to class, plop down in my seat near the back, and wait. Within three minutes the class fills up, and Professor Wilder starts speaking. “Good morning. Today, I’m handing out our end-of-the-year project. Now remember, this is worth two exam grades, so if you bombed any tests earlier this year, this project will definitely give you a boost. If you fail this project, I regret to say you will also fail this class. Please take this seriously. There is no rush on turning it in.”

Professor Wilder makes his way down the aisles handing out thick packets of paper to each of us. I take mine and read the title.
Project: Investigate social behavior. Great.

“I will have each row come up to my desk and draw from the bowl. Inside the bowl is your assigned behavior. No, you cannot
choose
a behavior. No, you can not ask for another. This is to help you grow and learn. Step out of your comfort zone.” He stops near his desk. “I know some of you have parents, siblings, or even friends who experience one or more of these behaviors. I know that we might have identified with them.” His eyes seem to lock on me, and I quickly look away. This class has opened my eyes to a lot of things I guess I should have recognized as wrong, or even misguided, in my parents’ behaviors. Throwing cash at your teen daughter in order to apologize is frowned upon. Trying to identify with your daughter by wearing clothes that are not age-appropriate? Again, this is frowned upon. Compulsive lying, always trying to make bets out of everything, all of these things are bad, yet my parents did them all.

Professor Wilder strides across the room and motions to the row in line with the exit. “This row will go first. Step on up and claim your behaviors.” I can’t help but notice how his brown eyes twinkle as he says these words.

I’m in the third row, and he finally calls us up to the front of the room. As we slowly shuffle our way to him, I keep praying whatever behavior I grab isn’t something relatable to me or my past.

My hand drops into the bowl and swishes about the oddly shaped papers. They all feel different too. Some feel fatter than others. Some a little smoother. “Tick-tock, Miss Morris. Just pluck one from the bowl and go.”

I grab a thin, slightly crinkled one from the bowl and take it back to my desk. Unfolding the paper, I read:
Alcoholism
. Whew. I don’t know anyone who has this problem.

The girl in front of me, Mindy Lo, asks, “What did you get?”

“Alcoholism. You?”

“Aww. You got a good one. I got aggressiveness. Where am I supposed to find that kind of person?”

I could think of a few places. But I doubt Mindy wants to spend her time at a boxing gym or even at one of those anger management places where they treat aggressive behavior. Hell, I don’t want to go hang out at a frat party or even at an AA meeting, but it looks like that’s exactly where I’ll be heading.

***

Michelle nudges my ribs. “So. I need to know something. What’s the deal with you and mister … complicated?”

I roll my eyes. “There is no deal. Whatever happened between us last year is apparently where it needs to stay—in the past. So how is Jared lately? I haven’t heard you complain about him or tell me any stories about having to visit the school.”

“No. I haven’t visited the school lately. But give that boy a few more days and I’m sure I will be telling you about all the hell he’s caused.”

I laugh. Her little boy is the cutest, but man, he’s a little devil.

“Well, speaking of nothing going on between you and hot complication, he’s heading over here. And I love you like a sister, so take this to heart: you look like hell, and you only seem to smile when he’s around.” I start to protest, but she throws up her hands. “Nope. I don’t want to hear it. Listen, even when you are fighting with him, there is a happiness to it. It’s strange as all hell, but your eyes light up. And so do his. Now go up there and help him before I kick your butt for ruining my entertainment for the hour.”

I roll my eyes and growl. “Fine.” I’m half tempted to stick my tongue out at her as I walk away.

Stepping up to the front of the customer service counter, I ask, “How can I help you?”

“Look,” he says, “I don’t know what to do here anymore. I’ve tried getting you out of my head. I’ve tried hooking up with other people just to forget you.”

Seriously? That’s just what every girl wants to hear. What an ass! As I scowl, he continues, “But you know what happens?”

I don’t answer him. I just fold my arms because he’s just making me really mad.

He sighs. “I see their faces and think, ‘This isn’t what I want.’ What I want is some damn girl who used to have blond hair but dyed it this fiery red color. She has blue eyes and a small freckle on her right cheek that I want to kiss.”

“Um … what?” My heart is melting a little. Dang it!

Graham looks left, then right, and then back to me. “When are you on break?”

“She is on break right now,” Michelle says.

“No, I’m … you …” She slaps a hand over my mouth so the rest of my words are muffled.

“She’s on break right now.” To me, she whispers, “Entertainment for the hour.”

She pushes me out of the box, and I head out of the store to the parking lot. Graham follows me to my car and plops down in the passenger seat. I turn to face him from the driver’s side, but he grabs my face and pulls it toward his mouth before I can say one word.

As his tongue slides against mine, a small moan escapes me. God, this boy can kiss. I mean really kiss. He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it gently before releasing it. He leans back with a little smirk. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now. Sarah, I’m tired of this. I don’t want to keep fighting myself every day, looking for reasons to stay away from you. Go out with me?”

“But … you said … ”

“I know what I said. It still hurts, and trust me, the doubts are still there. But I can’t keep seeing you or thinking about you and wondering if maybe this isn’t finished.”

I nod. “I can’t do this hot-and-cold game with you anymore either. If you want to do this, you have to be all in. The whole back and forth, it’s making me insane.”

He smiles. “Okay. So what are you doing Friday, say, around seven?”

“Working.”

“Okay. Saturday?”

“Same answer. I work in the evenings Friday and Saturday. I’m on the afternoon shifts Monday through Thursday. Sunday is always a questionable day. Sometimes I get the morning shift; sometimes it’s the evening shift.” I shrug.

He nods. “We’ll figure something out. I have some things I have to do in the afternoons.”

“I’ve got homework. Oh, and this stupid project.”

“What’s the assignment?”

I chew my lower lip. “I’ve got to write a paper on alcoholic behavior.”

Graham instantly pales. “Oh.” He scratches the back of his head. “Um … I gotta go. I’ll call you.” He hops out of my car like the seat is on fire.

That was
…
strange.

Chapter Thirteen

Graham

I hate avoiding her. What else can I do, though? Her recent assignment is too close to my secret. I just want to serve my time without telling anyone besides my mom and Bryce.

However, each AA meeting somehow reminds me of Sarah. From her sweet scent of apples and cinnamon to her luscious lips. Each person speaking is like blah-blah-blah. I’m bored, and that’s why my mind keeps wondering to thoughts about her laugh, her smirk, and her soft skin.

Why the hell did she have to pick an assignment on the shit that’s tainted my life? Sure, I’m not an alcoholic, not like these people. But if she saw that video … If she found out everything, she’d see me differently. Like my mom does.

I can’t have Sarah thinking of me like that. So this move is the best. I’ve ignored her texts. Ignored her phone calls. And it sucks. There were so many times I wanted to answer. She deserves better. Which is strange for me to say, because she cheated on me.