Raining Down Rules (14 page)

Chapter 30

Jordan

The world is spinning. There are so many faces here and I haven’t the slightest idea who any of them are. Someone shouts my name from across the room but it sounds more like they are talking through gallons of water. Two girls flank me on this couch, neither I’ve seen before. They both are stoned shitless and touching me, more like petting me. Their hands run down my arms and rest on my thighs. I’m so numb I can hardly feel them.

Again I hear my name being called from across the room. Glancing over the crowd of people, I think I catch sight of Randy and the gang. He nods and waves me over. I excuse myself from the pair of girls on the couch and make my way through the pulsating and gyrating bodies to Randy, who has an arm draped over Elise. His hand rests on her left tit and I have to wonder if she’s sober enough to know it’s there.

“Check this shit out,” Randy says as he pulls some white pills from his pocket. “This shit’s the bomb.”

“What is it?” I ask as I hurriedly take the four he’s given me.

Randy shrugs his shoulders and squeezes Elise’s tit hard enough she winces.

“Jesus, Randy. Stop living up to your name. God!” Elise plucks Randy’s hand off her chest and drops it.

“Come on, babe, let’s go get shit-faced and do the nasty in front of all these people.” Randy smiles, grabs Elise’s ass, and she just rolls her eyes.

“We’re already shit-faced, you dipshit. And I’m not putting on a show for just anyone.” Elise winks, grabs Randy’s hand, and pulls him through the crowd.

Pushing my way through the crowd, I walk back toward the couch and see the two girls have somehow increased to three. The one in the middle looks vaguely familiar but I can’t place her.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I ask, hoping one of the three will know.

“It’s her party,” the one in the middle says while jerking her head to the right.

The girl on the right has white-blond hair with pink and purple bangs, dark eye makeup that makes her eyes look small, and is wearing a nearly see-through white shirt and a miniscule skirt. She smiles to one side, uncrosses her legs, revealing her lack of underclothing, and suddenly my pants are too tight.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” The girl stands and her skirt is riding up so high she might as well be wearing nothing. “I’m Leah.”

I nod as I take in her name and watch her ass as she leads me through the crowd, then through a hallway, and then she knocks on a door. There is no answer from the other side so she opens the door and pushes me inside. She quickly locks the door behind us, grabs my shirt, and pushes me against the door. Her mouth is on mine in a matter of seconds and she’s working the button on my jeans until it pops open. She thrusts her hands down my pants, gripping my shlong, and practically rips him out of my jeans.

“Whoa there, Lee, Lil…” Her name has escaped me.

“Leah,” she whispers into my mouth. She pulls me away from the door to the bathroom counter where she bends over and hitches up her skirt. “God, I’ve always wanted to do this.”

My eyes practically pop out of my head. She is totally commando under that skirt and ready to go. Who am I to turn a girl down?

***

The days and parties keep raging on and the girls keep flocking to me like vultures to prey and I can’t fight them off fast enough. Between the sex and the shitload of drugs, I’m beginning to feel free of her. Here at yet another party with Randy and the gang, a girl who walks by me catches me off guard. She has long blond hair and from the behind is a dead ringer for Jemma. I push through the crowd, following her, my heart pounding in my head and chest. She stops to talk to a group of girls and without hesitation I place my hand on her shoulder. She turns around, obviously startled, and my heart nearly stops and falls to the floor.

“Hands off, freak,” she says with a look of disgust on her face that looks nothing like Jemma’s.

“Shit, sorry. I thought you were someone else.” I back away, find the keg, and down three beers and chase them with lines of coke off some girl’s midsection. Sometime in the night Randy gave me some more of the mystery white pills, and not caring how high I get tonight, I swallow four and down half a bottle of Everclear. The party is pulsing, the lights flicker on and off, and my head feels like it’s floating off my neck. Everything is spinning. Bodies turn into globs with blazing red eyes and fire breath. Words are indiscernible and…

Chapter 31

Jemma

I can’t believe how nervous I am. My chores are finished. I’ve showered and had breakfast with Gran on the porch. Choosing an outfit for the day is like choosing which carousel horse to ride. I have so many choices, yet none seem like just the right one. Why didn’t I go shopping for something new for this date?

“Gran! I have nothing to wear,” I shout down the stairs. I hear her slow steps shuffle across the floor downstairs, and sigh when I see her at the bottom of the stairs.

“If this boy likes you, I’m sure whatever you have will be just fine,” she says, trying to reassure me.

“What am I going to do?” My plea is beginning to sound more like a whine by the minute. I’m freaking out a bit with only having roughly twenty minutes before Vic arrives, so I send a quick text off to Trish, begging her for help. She calls moments later and walks me through choosing an outfit and I settle on pale pink capris, a white tank, and a sheer black button-up shirt. I shrug on a pair of black Toms and then grab a black cardigan and a small purse. I really hope this is good enough, which is a good thing because the chime of the doorbell echoes up the stairs. Voices carry up the hall and my nervousness increases exponentially.

“You didn’t tell me your gran was so good-looking, Jemma,” Vic says with a dimpled smile. My knees weaken at the sight of him wearing a pale blue button-down shirt tucked into his fitted jeans and leather belt. I laugh to myself when I see he’s wearing a pair of Toms as well.

“Flattery will get you nothing,” Gran calls back as she shuffles back to her chair. Vic laughs and then I watch as his eyes rake over me and heat rushes to my cheeks.

“Ready to go?”

Nodding, I blow a kiss to Gran as Vic places his hand on my lower back and guides me out the door to his truck.

“You washed your truck?” I ask as he closes the door behind me. It was clean when I was in it on Saturday, but it’s now super clean, even the dash gleams. He smiles and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“I have a big day planned, are you ready for this?”

“Where are we going?”

“Ahh, a good magician never reveals his tricks,” Vic says slyly. “Besides, I’ve got you for the entire day. The possibilities are endless.”

Conversation is casual and simple, ranging from his job to my horses.

“How come you never asked me out in high school?”

Vic’s dimples deepen as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Pretty much because I was a senior and you were a freshman. At the time, as much as I admired you from afar, I thought I was too old for you. You know, life experiences and all.”

“But now that I’m twenty, it’s okay?” His logic could very well be flawed.

“Sure. We’re both older and age doesn’t seem to be as important anymore.”

We continue the drive and when we’re fifteen minutes out of town, Vic pulls off onto a dirt road that cuts through some green fields and winds down between farmland. The road is so rough I grab hold of the
oh shit
handle and hope he knows where he’s going. The road grows narrower and tall pine trees begin flanking the sides as though we’re driving through an open-roofed tunnel. We continue to drive deeper into the trees and at the bottom of a hill we stop at a sparkling stream that cuts through the narrow valley.

“We’re here,” Vic says, smiling ear to ear.

“Where is here, exactly?” My door swings open and Vic helps me out of the truck. The crisp, fresh April air fills my senses and I’m overwhelmed with the beauty of the landscape. The tall grass is green and lush, wild daisies and mustard flowers are in full bloom. And the stream, it looks like diamonds flowing through the grass.

Vic drops the tailgate of his truck and jumps in the back, pulling out a black duffel bag.

“Are you up for a little walking?” Vic asks as he hops down. “This way.” I follow beside him as we walk upstream through a narrow trail that wanders parallel to the water.

“This place is amazing,” I say in awe. “How did you ever find it?”

His shoulders straighten and he smiles. “It’s mine.”

I stop in my tracks. “Wait, what? You own this land?”

He nods as he reaches for my hand. “It’s just a little bit farther.” His hand is warm and reassuring in mine. There is no awkward out-of-sync rhythm to find, it’s just there and natural. We climb a small grassy rise and come upon a piece of flat land with a house in the middle of construction. There is a cement foundation, framed walls, and a roof covered in plywood.

“Welcome to my home.” Vic beams with pride and I’m speechless. We’re standing outside the front entry and I can’t help but take in the view from here. Even though the walls are not yet solid, I can picture the windows and how they frame the trees and stream like a beautiful piece of artwork.

“Vic, I don’t know what to say. This is amazing.”

His cheeks flush and he looks down at our joined hands, his long lashes brushing his cheeks. “I’ve been building this house for three years, working when I can.”

“You’ve built this yourself?”

“Yeah, though sometimes my dad or brother helps.”

“Will you show me around?”

Vic lays the duffel bag on the front steps and leads me through the framed-in front door. He walks me through the entry, which turns into the main living space for the kitchen and family room and the dining area. Then he takes me through a small guest bedroom and bathroom with an exit to the backyard. His hand squeezes mine once in a while, and every time he does, a shock of something electric bursts through me. The woodsy scent of the pine two-by-fours reminds me of the pine shavings I use in the horse stalls for bedding, and I feel at home.

We walk up the stairs by the entry to a large loft space with two bedrooms and a bathroom on the left. Then he walks me through the doorway to the master bedroom on the right. I gasp at the view from the windows. It’s breathtaking. The stream flows through small boulders and grassy inlets and just a few yards upstream is a small, glistening waterfall. The lush pine trees and wildflowers frame the stream and surrounding hills like a watercolor painting. When I turn back to Vic, the pride he feels for this home he is creating and one day hopes to live in is reflected in the lines on his face and the glimmer in his eyes.

“Vic, I—”

Before I can finish my thought, Vic squeezes my hand, pulls me into his chest, and softly brushes his lips over mine. I fall against him, closing my eyes as his hands move to my jaw. His lips move away and I open my eyes and see the intense blue of Vic’s eyes and how focused they are on my lips. Not wanting the kiss to end, I close the distance and press my lips to his. I reach one of my hands to the back of his neck and the other rests on his shoulder.

Our kiss is like our conversations, natural and easy, but there’s so much more. As his lips press against mine, and his tongue sweeps over them and then through, it’s like my entire body has been electrified. Every inch of my skin wakes up as if suddenly I’m truly alive. The hairs on my arms stand up and my heart begins to race as though I’m sprinting a mile. Vic’s hands caress my back and arms as he backs me across the room and against a two-by-four stud. His tongue goes deeper and heat rages through my body like the current from a battery. I’m charged up and kissing him with all I’ve got.

I don’t know if it’s the lack of kissing that has my body so ready to throw all my rules out the window, or if it’s just the fact that I like this man, but I force myself to dial back. I’m still working on relaxing on rule one: no dating. Vic slows down, ending the kiss, leaving me feeling exhilarated yet somehow on edge.

“I’ve wanted to do that since Saturday,” Vic says, smiling. Heat rises to my cheeks as I look down at our toes before I follow Vic downstairs and out the front doorway. He scoops up the duffel bag and we walk a little more to a rise next to the waterfall I could see from the master bedroom.

“This place and your house are amazing,” I say, feeling guilty for ending the kiss.

“You keep saying that,” he says as he unzips the bag and begins removing its contents. “My parents farm the land on both sides of the stream and I’ve wanted to live on this spot my entire life. So, after I graduated high school, they gave me the land and told me to start building my dreams. It took a couple years before I could do anything, but it’s been an adventure to say the least.”

Vic pulls out two small handguns after he’s unloaded the bag and suddenly I’m feeling slightly nervous about what he plans to do with them. He places them both in the back of his jeans, bends down, and picks up some disassembled metal things and some papers and begins walking across the flat toward the base of another hill. I watch as he unfolds the metal things into long L-shaped rods and then drives them into the ground. He clips the paper to the rod and then I realize the papers have big black targets on them. Crap. He walks back with a spring in his step and a sideways half smile framed by dimples.

“Ready?” he asks as he pulls both guns from his pants and hands me one.

“Um, Vic…I’ve never shot a gun, let alone held one.” Holding it between my two hands like I’m carrying a measuring cup full of liquid, I notice that the gun is surprisingly heavy for its size.

Vic removes the gun from my fingers and places it in my right hand, folds my fingers around the grip, and then places my left hand under the small barrel so it cradles my right hand.

“Hold it like this, not like this.” Vic demonstrates the wrong way to hold the gun, which is to say, like I was holding it a second ago.

“Is it loaded?” I ask, making sure I keep my fingers clear of the trigger.

“Hell no.” Vic steps away, works some magic with the gun, and the cartridge falls out of the grip. He bends down and grabs a handful of bullets and loads up the cartridge. “Okay, first things first.” Vic points out features of his gun, which is the same as mine. “This is the barrel and where I put the bullets is called a magazine, or clip.”

Oh, now I feel dumb for thinking it was called a cartridge.

“This is the trigger. And see this thing here? That is what releases the clip. Try it.”

There’s a small nub on the grip and I press it as hard as I can and the clip falls out, hitting the ground before I even think to catch it.

“Sorry,” I say as my cheeks flame in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it, happens all the time.”

“Really?”

Vic laughs. “No.”

My cheeks redden even more as Vic hands me the clip and eight small bullets.

“The pointed end faces the exit of the barrel like this.” Vic places a bullet into the top of the clip and then waits for me to load the others. “Okay, check that the safety is on, right here. It is. Go ahead and put the clip back into the gun.”

The clip slides in seamlessly and closes with a click. The weight of the gun increases enough for me to notice a difference in the way I support my shooting hand.

“This gun holds eight in the magazine and one in the chamber. I’ll put that one in for you.” Vic opens a slot up in the gun and slips the bullet into the chamber. “Okay, you are ready to shoot.”

Shaking my head, I try to hand the gun back to Vic. “I’ve never done this before,” I say with a slight stutter. “I’m not sure I can.”

“I’ll help you,” Vic says softly as he comes to stand behind me. “Grip the gun like I showed you earlier.”

I place my hands how he showed me, right hand on the grip, left hand cradling my right. “Is this right?”

Vic nods and then he tells me to face the target and spread my legs to about shoulder width. His hands glide down my arms and a shallow gasp escapes my lips as his hands fall to my hips, where he rotates them slightly.

“Hold the gun up and point it at the target.” His breath tickles my ear and it’s all I can do to concentrate on the gun and target and not how his hips brush against me. Vic’s arms wrap around me to support mine from underneath. His hands hold mine and then his thumb reaches up and turns the safety off. My breathing is shallow and with each breath my body comes alive from Vic’s proximity. “I’m going to cock the gun. Look at the target, aim, and when you’re ready, pull the trigger.”

“But—”

“Don’t think too hard, just take a couple deep breaths, relax, aim, and shoot. I’ll hold you steady. Whatever you do, though, don’t drop the gun after you shoot.”

Following Vic’s advice, I breathe deeply, focus on the target, and find the trigger. Vic’s arms brace me tighter, reassuring me, and then slowly I pull back on the trigger. The gun jerks back in my hands, but Vic holds me tightly and the kickback is controlled. The sound of the gun firing echoes through the narrow valley and a thrill rushes over me.

“That was amazing!” I say as I turn to face Vic, who jumps away and pushes my hands in the opposite direction.

“Hold on there, cowgirl. This is a semi-automatic handgun. Never point it in my direction. Ever.”

“Oh my gosh, sorry.”

Vic and I laugh and he helps me shoot a couple more rounds and then he lets me shoot on my own. We alternate shooting for a while longer, and then after we’ve both emptied two magazines, we put the guns away and walk back toward the truck.