Sweet: (Intermix) (True Believers) (9 page)

“Don’t be crude,” I chastised.

“You’re the one who is suggesting I hook up with her five minutes after I met her.”

“Never mind.” I went to my room to get my purse and threw it over my head so that it dangled on my hip. I was wearing an old shirt with peanut butter and jelly high-fiving each other and basketball shorts I worked out in, but I didn’t give a shit. It wasn’t like putting on cuter clothes was going to change the outcome of this day.

“Are you jealous of your friend? Because that seems like a bad foundation for a friendship.”

“Why would I be jealous of her? And what do you know about friendship?” Verbal vomit officially commencing. I grabbed a cookie out of the Mystery Machine and crammed it in my mouth just to shut myself up.

“Apparently nothing.”

We went and got sub sandwiches, and Riley ate his footlong and half of my six-inch, along with two bags of chips and a soft drink that was roughly the size of my dorm room wastebasket.

“Do you have any pictures of your family on your phone?” I asked, an idea for the long hallway to the bedrooms popping into my head.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, like snapshots of the boys. Ones where no one is flipping off the camera.”

He grinned. “That may be a tall order.” But he dutifully pulled out his phone and started scrolling through pictures. “Here’s one of Easton on his birthday. I got him a giant cupcake.” He held it out to me.

Easton was smiling, his dark eyes shining, as he held his giant cupcake up to his mouth, about to take a bite. “That’s perfect.”

“Here’s Jayden with Rory.”

Jayden had his arm slung over Rory’s shoulder, and they both were smiling. Again, I felt a twinge of envy. “That’s cute.”

Then Riley’s smile fell off his face as he flipped through more pictures.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s my mom.” He studied the screen of his phone. “I know it sounds weird, but I do miss her in a way.” He turned the phone to me. “Maybe it’s because I remember her before the drugs, but she wasn’t a bad person. Not like my dad. He’s just a dick. But my mom was just, well, an addict.”

I thought of the picture of her in his bedroom at her prom, and I looked at the picture he was showing me. She looked shrunken, fragile, hardly any bigger than Easton, as she pulled him against her in a hug. He was making a funny face, but she was smiling, like she’d been caught in a laugh, her mouth open to show missing bottom teeth, her skin sallow. But there was genuine happiness there in her eyes.

“I understand,” I told him. “She’s your mom. I’m sure she loved all of you.”

“She did. She just couldn’t stay away from the smack. And it killed her.” He swiped past the picture. “So why did you ask, anyway?” he said, brisk, shaking more chips onto his sub wrapper.

“We can print some of those out at Walmart and hang them in the hallway. It will look great, and personal. You know, let the social worker see that you’re a real family.” I had a thought. “Let me take a close-up shot of your tattoo and we can use that one, too. It’s a tattoo that says you love each other.”

He made a face. “You make it sound so dorky.”

I laughed. “Sorry. I mean, it’s a very tough symbol indicating that you’ll kick anyone’s ass who messes with your brother. Is that better?”

“Definitely.”

By the time we got back to the house with more supplies I was already exhausted. Then we started tearing up the carpet, and I decided that I needed to find a career where I could just look pretty, because this shit was hard work.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, yanking on the piece Riley had cut that I was supposed to be rolling back. Sweat was dripping down my back, and the work gloves he’d given me kept slipping as I jerked the carpet.

“This was your idea,” he reminded me, using his boot to hold down one section while he tugged where he’d sliced with the knife.

“I was a fool.” An exhausted fool. I lay down on the filthy carpet to catch my breath.

“Man up.”

“I’m not a man.”

“I noticed.”

Well, that was something. I rolled onto my side and wished an ice-cold lemonade would appear in my hand.

“Men don’t whine as much as you do.”

Lovely. “You haven’t met my brother,” I told him.

“By the way, this is a perfect photo op,” Riley said. “You’re supposed to be rehabbing houses, right? Here you go. This way you can prove it. It might not be the exact same situation as what you told your parents, but it’s something.”

“Good call.” I dug my phone out of my bra. “Take my picture.”

“You keep your phone in your bra?” He took it from me. “Wow, this is sticky.” He wiped it on his jeans. “You might want to get off the floor if you want to look like you’re working hard.”

“Slave driver.” I peeled myself off the floor and then went back to rolling old carpet on my knees while Riley took a picture.

An hour later all the carpet was out on the front lawn for garbage pickup and we were in the midst of a dusty hell. Coughing and waving my hands in front of me, I threw open the windows, risking Riley wrath. I went over the floor with the broom to collect the piles of disintegrating carpet backing that had been left behind while Riley ripped out the boards that lined the edges of the wall, spiky nails sticking out of them. Another hour and we had mopped the floor and put the furniture back and it actually looked pretty damn good. The floor wasn’t perfect. It had grooves and scuffs in it, but it was a huge improvement over the nasty carpet, and it smelled clean and fresh.

I flopped on the couch. “I have to leave for work in thirty minutes. This is going to be a hellish night.”

“Sorry, kid.” He did look like he felt bad for me. “I can drive you to work.”

“Thanks. You’re going to take a nap when you get back, aren’t you?” I asked, feeling very envious.

“Probably not.” Then he grinned. “Okay, yeah, totally.”

But not only did he drop me off, he picked me up at eleven, when I was dragging ass. I laid my head on his shoulder and yawned while he drove.

“Poor princess,” he said, and it actually sounded sincere.

I fell asleep before we even got back to the house and didn’t wake up until he lifted me into his arms.

Whoa. For real? That woke me right up. “You don’t have to carry me,” I said. “I’m awake.” But I snuggled in closer to his chest. There might never be another moment like this to feel his body that close to mine.

“Babe, if someone is offering you a free ride, take it.”

He had a point.

“I’m too heavy,” I said, because that’s what we say as girls. We love the thought that a guy can carry us, but then we worry that he’ll start thinking with each step that you were way heavier than he expected and that maybe you should lay off the ice cream. It’s also maybe a slightly passive-aggressive way of seeking the reassurance we need. Toxic, sure, but it slipped out before I could stop myself.

But Riley didn’t play the game. There was no reassurance. He just said, “Shut up, Jessica.”

The words were harsh, but his voice wasn’t. If fact, when I looked up at him, I saw something that took my breath away.

When he set me down on the front step to open the door, I tugged down my shirt, which had ridden up, all sleepiness gone because I knew what he was considering. He wanted to kiss me.

I knew that look. It was unmistakable.

And I wanted him to kiss me more than I had any other guy who had given me that look.

“Don’t be mean,” I murmured.

He cupped my cheek with his hand and said, “The last thing I feel right now is mean.”

And despite the warm night air, I shivered in the dark, the feeble porch light glowing over us, bugs knocking into it.

“Good,” I said, and I smiled up at him.

Chapter Eight

For a few seconds, he just studied me, until I started to get nervous. What was he thinking?

I said, “What are you doing? Are we going in or just going to stand here all night?” If he wasn’t feeling mean what was he feeling? Riley wasn’t as easy to figure out as other guys.

“I’m wondering if I kiss you if somehow your father will know and smite me. That’s the word, right? Smite? Smited? Smitten?”

Smitten? No, that had not just come out of his mouth.

But my body started to tingle in anticipation, relief surging through me. He was asking for encouragement. I could do that, no problem, because I most definitely wanted him to kiss me.

“Are you
going
to kiss me?” I asked, completely confident he would now, with a little coaxing. “And no, you won’t be smote. My dad is a preacher, not God.”

“So what if I am going to kiss you? Are you down with that?”

“I’m good with it, but I thought you hated me,” I teased him, leaning on the door frame out of his touch, amused that he was asking for permission. It made me feel more confident, less at a disadvantage in that I probably liked him more than he liked me. “You said I’m like a little sister to you.” I wanted him to kiss me, but I also wanted to hear him say out loud that he was attracted to me. Hey, guys aren’t the only ones who need their egos stroked.

“Hate is such a strong word,” he said, reaching out and fingering the cross I wore around my neck, the one that had been a gift from my father for my sixteenth birthday. Pure gold. “I never said I hated you.”

Desire started to simmer as he leaned in close to me, as I anticipated the kiss I had somehow known we’d been heading toward all week, or at least hoping for. I opened my mouth and crossed my ankles, the tight ache between my thighs distracting.

Then he ruined it.

“I mean, I find you annoying and bratty, but I don’t hate you.”

Really? I tried to pull away, but he put his hands on the wall on either side of me, trapping my body against the house as he grinned at me.

“You’re an ass,” I said.

“I’m just being honest. Because you
are
bratty, even you have to admit that, but I also find you intelligent, sexy as hell, and strong. I like that you’ll take the public bus even though you have no clue what you’re doing and you’re scared. I like that you’re staying in this dump when you could probably call up Daddy and get money for a hotel, even if he doesn’t know where you really are.”

The last bit wasn’t even close to the truth, but I was too busy enjoying his compliments to correct him. Because Riley was right—I was all those things. I could be annoying and bratty, yet I liked to think I was somewhat smart, and I knew I was strong, tenacious. That he saw me for who I was did weird things to my inside that had nothing to do with sex.

“I admire that you’re willing to pitch in and pull up nasty carpet to help me keep my brother.”

“It’s no big deal.” But it was a big deal. All of it. All of this.

His lips barely brushed mine in the most innocent kiss I’d shared since middle school. It made me shiver again.

“Now you can tell me what you like about me,” he prompted, while I stood there struck silent.

It was hard to think with his arms engulfing me like they were, his mouth so close to mine. I wanted to run my fingers through the stubble of his beard and bite his bottom lip. But I managed to focus long enough to say, “You are definitely an asshole, but what I like is that you are so responsible, you take care of your brothers, you do what you have to do, and yet you still laugh. You have a sense of humor, and you don’t take yourself too seriously.”

“I guess we’re pretty fucking awesome, aren’t we?” he asked.

I nodded.

Then, without any clear signal from each other, we both went for the kiss, and it was a hot collision of mouth and teeth. It was hot and wet and perfect. Wow. And then wow some more. His stubble was rough on my skin, his hands gripping me tightly, and his mouth fought to dominate mine. It was a sexy, skilled kiss, and I was breathing hard and wanting more when we paused.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all week,” he muttered.

“Oh, yeah?” I hadn’t really known that. I wanted that, but I hadn’t been sure. At all. He had kept making it seem like we were friends and nothing more, and I had believed him. I had never been more glad to be totally wrong in my life. Feeling a little smug, I ran my tongue across his bottom lip. He gave a soft groan.

“Yeah. Every night I’ve been beating my dick like it owes me money.”

Really? I snorted. “Shut up and just kiss me. You’re better at that than talking.” But the truth was, I didn’t care what he said. I was excited, relieved, ready to take what he was offering and give him whatever he wanted, because I had managed to fall hard for him, fast, in a way that I never did.

He laughed.

As Riley pressed me against the house, hungrily kissing me, I clutched at his T-shirt, enjoying the feel of his hard chest. I had always been a girl who liked a muscular guy—not the juiced-up gym hardbodies—but a body like Riley’s, earned from lifting heavy materials and sweating through a day of manual labor. Going lower, I slipped my hands under his shirt, groaning a little into his kiss as my fingers touched that smooth, hot skin of his abs.

“Feel free to keep going lower,” he murmured, pulling his lips from mine.

Amused, I said, “That’s so nice of you.”

“I’m a giver.” But then he pulled his head back. “But maybe we should go in the house before the neighbors get jealous.”

He had a point. He took my hand, and pulled me inside, the door closing softly behind him. I let him push me back against the door, fingers entwined with mine, his mouth doing delicious things to my insides as he kissed me again and again.

Not every guy can kiss, and not every guy knew how to use his tongue, but Riley and I seemed to be a perfect fit, our tongues teasing in a perfect give-and-take.

I let my hand wander down and I found his erection, hard and thick in his jeans. “Hmm, what’s this?” Stroking him, I felt the tug of desire and wondered if we were really going to do this, take it further than just a kiss. I wanted to physically, there was no doubt, but there seemed to be a lack of urgency on his part.

But that was Riley. He did everything with that swagger and that smile, and why should this be any different? Yet I’d seen him burst out in anger, and I’d thought, somehow, that he would attack me with passion. Or maybe that was just my fantasy—that he wanted me so badly he had to have me
now
.

Instead he was now lazily nuzzling my neck and keeping his hands just above my ass.

Yet I was the one stroking his penis. Suddenly doubting myself, I wondered what he really wanted, how he really felt about me. So he didn’t hate me. And he liked certain things about me. But was that it? I was afraid to ask, so I went with what I knew would almost guarantee a positive response.

I popped the button on his jeans, hoping for a more aggressive reaction. “What’s in here?”

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

That’s what every guy said. I was sure in his case it was true, given what I could feel beneath my palm, but I wanted something more from him, and I wasn’t sure what it was, exactly. So I kept fishing. “Are you pierced like Tyler?”

I meant it as a sexy tease, but his lips stilled on my neck and he pulled back. “Tyler has his junk pierced?”

“Yes,” I said, surprised. “You don’t know that?”

“Why would I know what my brother does with his dick?” Riley looked repulsed by the very thought. “And by the way, how do you know?”

Uh-oh. He didn’t know I had hooked up with Tyler. How could he not know? “Well . . .”

“I can’t believe the shit you girls talk about. I wonder if Tyler knows Rory is spilling about their sex life. And no, I am not pierced. I have no desire to have a needle shoved through my dick.”

I wasn’t sure what to do. I had to tell him the truth, or it would come out later and bite me on the ass hard, but how exactly did I say that? Then again, it wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It was all pre-Riley and me, so who cared, right?

So I told him, “Rory didn’t tell me.”

Now his expression turned puzzled. “So then how do you . . .” And then he got it. He recoiled away from me. “
Oh my fucking God!
Are you telling me you’ve had sex with my brother?”

“Yes,” I said because I wasn’t a liar and I wasn’t ashamed. “I thought you knew.”

“Why would I know that?” he asked, his hands going up to push through his hair. “I don’t get detailed sex logs from Tyler. God! I can’t believe you were going to let me do this without knowing.”

“I thought you knew!” I said, starting to get pissed off. There was no deception or cover up. Nathan and Kylie and Rory all knew, so I just assumed Riley did, too. I was still against the door and I moved forward, but he took two steps back, hands coming out in a defensive posture, like I might attack him or something.

“What’s the big deal?” I asked, upset that I had opened my mouth and said anything, upset that instead of having him look at me like I was amazing, like he had been ten minutes earlier, he was eyeing me like I was a circus freak. World’s Sluttiest Girl.

“You fucked my brother! That’s a big deal!” Riley’s legs ate up the room in long strides as he went over to the coffee table and pulled a cigarette out of a pack lying there. I hadn’t seen him smoke all day, so it was a clear indicator he was stressed out. Cramming it in his mouth, he looked at me over the lighter as he flicked it on. “He’s . . . touched you. That’s messed up.”

“So what?” I still didn’t totally understand why he was so upset. “It was before I even met you.”

“He’s my brother!” He sucked hard on the cigarette and blew it out. “This isn’t just some random guy. Every time I look at him I’m going to think about the fact that he nailed you. That he had his dick in you first.”

Way to be rude about it. “Okay, I get that. But what am I supposed to do? It happened. We’re adults. Rory doesn’t have a problem with it and we’re best friends. Tyler doesn’t have a problem with being around me knowing I’m best friends with his girlfriend. None of us make it weird. Why are you making it weird? None of us walk around thinking about it.”

I waved my hand in front of me to break up the cloud of smoke. “And I thought you said you wouldn’t smoke in the house.”

“This requires nicotine.” Anger was simmering below the surface of his expression and he glared at me.

What did he have the right to be pissed about? “What do you want me to say?” I snapped. “I couldn’t predict that we would wind up here. Tyler’s my friend and we hooked up a few times.”

“You seem to fuck an awful lot of your friends.”

Oh, no, he didn’t. “Excuse me?” I asked, eyes narrowing, my voice cold. He was one wrong word from finding my hand on his cheek. I’d never slapped a guy before, but this might be the perfect opportunity to go all Scarlett O’Hara on him.

“Have you fucked Nathan? I know you’ve fucked Bill. And my brother. What about Grant? Am I the only one you haven’t had sex with? Forget about sloppy seconds, it’s more like sloppy fourths.”

There it went. My hand just flew up without me even thinking about it and connected with his cheek in the most satisfying slap of skin on skin. It knocked his cigarette out of his mouth and his head snapped to the side. I was shocked I actually did it, but at the same time, I was glad. Tears of anger and humiliation floated in my eyes and I blinked hard to make them disappear.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t. And never over a guy. Not happening.

When his head turned back, his eyes were dark and angry.

“Don’t you ever refer to me as sloppy anything.” I bent over and picked up the burning cigarette off the newly revealed hardwood floor and stubbed it out in the overflowing ashtray that I had been meaning to banish outside, my hand shaking from fury.

“Jessica . . . ,” he said, sounding contrite.

“Save it,” I told him. “I’m taking my slutty ass to bed. You can go fuck yourself because I never will.”

With that, I stomped down the hall. He started to follow me.

“Wait, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

I walked faster. “You meant it exactly the way it sounded.” When I sensed his arm reaching out for me, I started running. Once in Jayden and Easton’s room, I slammed the door shut in Riley’s face and locked it.

“I’m sorry.” He tried the knob and then pounded on the door. “Let me in, Jess. I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re a slut.”

“Yes, you do! Now go away.” I wiped the tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand, my stomach tight. Asshat. He had no right to talk to me like that.

“Come on! We need to talk about this.”

“Talk to someone who gives a shit.” Resolutely, I put my phone in the speaker dock, blasting bouncy pop music that I knew would irritate the hell out of him.

After a minute, the knocking on the door stopped and I figured he had retreated to get away from the bubbly sultriness of Britney Spears. I could practically hear the sound of him popping open a beer, which is what I knew he would do. I had gotten to know Riley over the past week. Or so I’d thought. Okay, I could see that it might be weird to hear about me and Tyler at that particular moment, but what was he expecting? There was no purity ring on my finger, and what I did prior to him was no one’s business but mine.

I could have lied about it. But I had wanted to be totally honest with him and what had that gotten me?

Sitting on Easton’s bed, back against the wall, I bit my fingernail and hated on men and their goddamn double standards. When the glass of the window suddenly rose, I jumped. Riley’s head appeared in the open space.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, getting up to turn down the music. “Are you insane?”

He shoved the window completely up. “You wouldn’t open the door,” he said, like that was some kind of explanation. “We’re not done with this conversation.”

“Oh, I’m done.” But I watched in fascination as he yanked out the screen and it disappeared behind him, and then threw his arms over the window frame and started to haul his body into the bedroom window. “What are you standing on?” That window was a good eight feet off the ground.