Holy hell, he is serious.
It’s a crazy idea. Tempting. But crazy. May be fun.
Frigging insane.
I sigh. “My parents believe going out will solve all my problems. I only have to change, get out of my shell.”
When I look up, I see a flash of emotion in his eyes I don’t have the time to decipher before it’s gone. “I don’t think you should change,” he says. “You’re just fine as you are.”
I blink at him. That’s not the reaction I was expecting. It was either a guffaw, or him agreeing with my parents’ assessment.
“I am?”
“Yeah. Why should you pretend to be something you’re not? To like something you don’t? Like parties. If you hate them, then why pretend you don’t?”
God, good question. “Because then I seem like a freak? I mean, everybody likes parties, right?”
“You’re not everybody, and you’re not a freak,” he says, his smile faint, but I think I like it even more than his smirks and wide grins. It feels more real.
And wait, hasn’t he said this before? About me not being everybody? It’s obvious, and yet another meaning lurks between his words, something he’s trying to tell me.
Yeah, or I’m imagining things.
“Come on.” He raises his mug, clinks it with mine. “Say yes. Help me out here. Otherwise I’ll show up at the wedding naked.”
And of course my gaze immediately flicks back to his sculpted chest and arms, and my mouth runs dry. I lick them. He’s putting me in a tight spot there.
“Okay, on one condition.”
He puts down his mug, wary. “Spill.”
“You will answer three questions from me.” And why the heck am I doing this? Curiosity, I think. It’s gotten the better of me.
He stills, not even blinking, for a long unnerving moment. Then he shrugs. “A game, huh? Well, why the hell not? I’m in.”
Wow. I realize I didn’t expect him to agree. What do you know… and what have I gotten myself into?
Too late to back out now, though. “Then it’s a deal.”
PART II
“One day,” Helen says, “our luck will turn. You’ll see. Life can’t keep fucking us up. Something’s gotta give.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, hands in my pockets, trying to pretend I don’t give a fuck about tomorrow, though I know she sees right through me.
She sucks on a cigarette, her slight body leaning against a brick wall. Her black boots are scuffed, her skirt almost non-existent, and her cleavage dips low. She’s badass, she’s fierce, and every time she climbs into a car with a guy, my stomach drops to my feet.
“Believe it, kid,” she whispers conspiratorially, leaning toward me. “Trust in the demon. The demon watching over you and me.” She winks. “Because it sure ain’t no angel.”
~ Jesse
Chapter Ten
Jesse
Absently twisting the leather band on my wrist, I lean back on the wall outside Damage Control and pretend I’m resting my eyes.
Not watching the street like a hawk, waiting for Amber to show up.
Maybe she changed her mind. I wouldn’t blame her one fucking bit. What the hell was I thinking when I suggested this idiotic plan? I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem. Or thinking with my dick and that cold space inside my chest that feels warm when she’s around.
Fuck.
Besides, how will it help if she’s with me? Short of handing my money over to her, I don’t see how I’ll be convinced to spend it, and I’m not handing my money to anyone, not even to pretty, grumpy girls. So, what the fuck, right? I should turn around and leave.
But I don’t move, instead checking the street obsessively, tapping a rhythm with the heel of my boot on the wall and humming a song I hardly recall under my breath.
Until she appears.
A blue summer dress hugs her curves and she wears leather sandals that lace up to her knees. Her toenails are also painted a light blue, and goddamn, it’s sexy. She’s sexy. With those curves trying to burst through the cloth, her dark hair pinned up and her mouth in a small pout, she’s enough to make me forget my doubts.
Hell, if she asked for my money, I’d pass her my wallet right now, I wouldn’t even care.
Did I mention she’s dangerous? I have to fight to catch my breath as she approaches me and that small pouts turns into a hesitant smile. My jeans are fast growing too tight over my hardening dick, and for the first time since I can remember myself, I’d give my right arm to kiss a girl.
This girl. Only this girl.
Jesus F. Christ.
“Ready?” She adjusts the strap of her leather bag on her shoulder. “We’ve got a bus to catch.”
“Where are we going?” I start after her as she makes a beeline for the bus stop, fascinated by the sway of her ass and her swinging ponytail. It catches the sunlight, breaking into strands of ebony, auburn, copper and gold.
But fuck, that ass…
“It’s a shop Kayla told me about,” she says, “run by a friend of hers. Trust me, it will be good.”
“How so? Have you ever been there? Have you seen their stock?”
“No.” She throws a smile over her shoulder at me, and I hastily look away from her sexy backside. “But I’ve seen photos. And I trust Kayla.”
“You hardly know her!”
Yet that smile stays with me, breaking down my resistance as I jog to keep up.
“Ev vouched for her before I moved into the apartment, and despite some weird glitches in the Matrix, she seems very nice.”
I chuckle. What a strange girl. “What about you? Do they have girly clothes there, too?”
“Girly.” She makes a face as she checks the bus timetable. “If you mean women’s clothes, yes, they do, and no, I still don’t know what to wear. This sucks.”
“I’ll make sure you have fun this time at the reception,” I tell her back, studying the light spattering of freckles on her shoulders. “You’ll see.”
She turns around, her mouth opening in a startled “o,” but she says nothing, and I wonder why. One thing’s for sure: I’d love a glimpse inside her mind. I bet it’s just as devastatingly complex and beautiful as the rest of her.
Yeah… Dammit. Told you. She’s fucking dangerous.
***
We step off the bus and turn into a quiet side street. Cold slithers down my spine as I trudge after Amber. This place looks somehow familiar. I can’t put my finger on it, though.
It’s not a pretty part of town. The walls are covered in bad graffiti—which makes me itch to redo them—and there’s trash piled up on street corners. The entrances to the buildings are dirty, strewn with paper and plastic, with puddles that looks like piss. Smell like piss, too. The humid heat is unforgiving, lifting the sour stench of rotting meat and other trash, waving it into our faces.
Familiar smells. Familiar sights. I frown, shoving my hands into my pockets. So much familiar. Can’t say I feel nostalgic, though. The itch under my skin is more like remembered fear. I haven’t missed that.
“What happened to department stores?” I ask as we reach the end and find ourselves in another noisy, main street. “Shopping malls? Does that ring any bells?”
She bites her lip. “Remember I don’t like parties?”
“Yeah. What’s that got to do with it?”
“Crowds?” She shrugs. “I hate crowds.”
Right. I knew that, dammit. “So where’s this famous shop?”
“Come.” She grabs my hand, and the rest of the walk goes by in a haze, the press of her slim fingers in mine burning like a fresh brand. The fire spreads through my limbs, gathering speed as her fingers clench around mine. I catch a whiff of her scent—sunshine and coconut—and the heat shoots straight to my dick.