Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl (25 page)

“It’s go-fuck-yourself-and-leave-me-alone. I’m trying to help a friend,” I retort back before stepping out and letting the door shut.

Willow chuckles with her face pressed against my shoulder. “That was kind of rude.”

“No, what was rude was her making a big deal when it was clear I was in there helping out a friend who is having a really hard time.” I make my way past the tables, disregarding the stares we get.

“Yeah, I guess you might be right.” She lifts her head, her muscles tightening. “Maybe you should put me down. People are staring.”

“Well, people need to mind their own business,” I say loudly enough for everyone to hear then smile when some of them look away.

Willow rests her head on my shoulder with her face turned toward my neck. “You know, I’m always saying you’re my hero, but you really do feel like one right now … carrying me out of here like this. It seems very hero-ish.”

“That’s because I am secretly a hero. A superhero, actually.” As I reach the front doors, I turn around and walk through backward.

When I step outside, I head for the crosswalk. Neither of us speaks, we only hold on to each other as I cross the road and hike across the grass toward the parking lot. When I reach my car, I open the passenger door with one hand then set her in the seat and place her bag on her lap. Keeping my eyes on her, I close the door then hurry around to the other side.

Once I get in and start up the engine, I back out of the parking space and steer out onto the road. The longer we drive in silence, the more I want to say something. But I’m not sure what to say, and honestly, I want her to talk first so I know she’s ready to talk.

“She broke my snow globes,” she says so abruptly I jump.

Gripping the steering wheel, I let my heart settle before I speak. “Who did?”

She turns her head away from the window, her eyes glassy with tears. “My mom. When she asked me for money yesterday, she broke them ... all except the one you gave me, which was completely by accident, but I was still so glad.” She rolls her eyes at herself and sighs. “I don’t know why I just said that. Out of all the things I could’ve said, that’s my opening line.”

“I’m glad you told me.” I reach over and lace our fingers together, hoping she doesn’t pull away. “What I don’t like is that she broke them. I know how much they meant to you.”

She stares at our interlaced fingers. “They only meant something to me because my dad was gone and I thought I’d never see him again. Now that I have … I’m kind of glad they broke.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling before lifting her gaze to mine. “How bad of a person does it make me that I want to forget my dad exists?”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t make you a bad person at all. I want to forget my dad exists, and he didn’t even walk out on me.”

She angles her body toward the console. “Yeah, but he treats you so poorly. He doesn’t even deserve to be in your life.”

“And neither does your dad if you don’t want him to,” I tell her, skimming my thumb along the back of her hand. “You earned the right to hate him the second he bailed on you. You don’t owe him anything, just like you don’t owe your mom anything. The only person you do owe something to is yourself.”

“I don’t agree with you,” she mutters. “I haven’t done anything to deserve anything.”

I think she’s referring to that job again. When she told me about it, I wanted to track her mom down and scream at her for being a shitty parent and making Willow think she needed to do anything to take care of her, things that are causing her self-torment. And her dad isn’t any better. He never should’ve left her to begin with. Although, after telling me about the creeper he chased off last night, I’m glad he decided to try to come back into Willow’s life. But fuck, the fact that she was even in that situation makes me want to lock her up and keep her safe forever, even if that does make me sound like a controlling asshole.

“Can I ask you something?” I approach cautiously.

“Yeah …” She hesitates then nods. “Go ahead. I owe you that much.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I want to make sure you’re not planning on going back to that place.”

Humiliation pours from her eyes. “You mean the club?”

I nod, grazing my finger along the back of her hand again. “After what you told me … with what happened with that guy … and then with your boss wanting you to …” I take a composing breath. “I just want to make sure you don’t plan on going back there.”

Her fingers tighten around mine. “I was never planning on doing that … I mean, the whole …”—her cheeks turn bright red—“stripping thing. I can barely stand being near the stage, let alone on it.”

“So, you’re not going back?”

“No … But I do have to go back to get my final paycheck.” Her shoulders slump. “God, I’m picking up my final paycheck, and I don’t even have a job lined up yet.”

My lips part. “That’s okay. I can—”

“No, you can’t,” she says.

Goddammit, she’s so stubborn.

“I don’t know why you can’t just accept my help. I mean, I do know why since I understand you. But I really wish you’d just move in with me and let me help you like I
want
to.”

She stares down at our interlaced fingers again. After a moment or two, a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. She quickly clears the look away before I can figure out what’s got her smiling.

“Did you mean it?” she asks quietly.

I slow down the car to make a turn into my neighborhood. “Mean what?”

“All that stuff on the list,” she says, giving me a tentative look.

I carry her gaze. “Of course I meant it. Every damn word.” Her lips start to turn upward again, so I press on, wanting a full smile. “Especially the pillow fighting part. That was actually the most important part of the list, so make sure to remember that when I knock on your door at two o’clock in the morning.”

Her laughter bursts through, and the wall of tension around us crumbles into dust.

“All right, I’ll keep it in mind,” she says. “But maybe we should make them ten o’clock pillow fights. I’d really like to start going to bed at a decent hour.”

I don’t want to smile just yet, but fuck, it takes a lot of willpower to hold it back. “You’re saying you’ll live with me?” I ask as I turn into the driveway of my two-story house.

Her chest rises and crashes as she breathes profusely. “I will, at least until I can find somewhere else to live. But I’m going to pay you.” When I open my mouth to protest, she adds, “I have to pay you, Beck. It’s just how I am, and I’d feel shitty if I didn’t.”

“Then I’m going to make the price dirt cheap.”

“Make it reasonable.”

I park in front of the garage and silence the engine. “Reasonable with a discount.”

“Beck—”

I place my finger against her lips. “Shush. Just let me do this one thing. It’ll make me happy, and you’ll be less stressed out over your finances.”

She remains quiet for what feels like forever before reluctantly nodding. “All right, I’ll let you win this one.”

I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere.

Then worry flashes across her face. “I think we need to talk about what happened in the bathroom.”

“You mean when I hugged you?” I play dumb. But it’s either pretend I don’t know what she’s talking about or watch her pull out a piece of paper to add more rules.

And I don’t want any more rules. I want no rules. Nothing between her and me. Ever.

“Not the hug … the kiss …” Her eyes descend to my lips and then to her lap. “I can’t do this anymore,” she mutters. “God, how did our friendship get so complicated?”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” I say, knowing I’m treading on thin ice. But I don’t want to fight my feelings anymore. And with how much we’ve been kissing lately, I know she has to feel something more than just friendship. “If you’d just stop fighting what you really want and let yourself have what you want.”

She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and peers up at me. “That’s the problem. My mother wanted something all the time, and she kept looking for it in the bartender or the next-door neighbor. Even my teacher once.”

“Really? Which one?”

“Mr. Deliebufey.”

I don’t know what kind of face I pull, but it causes her to giggle.

She covers her mouth with her hand. “I really shouldn’t be laughing about that.”

“No, you definitely should.” I smile, mostly because she’s smiling. “We should’ve laughed about it back in fifth grade when it happened. Why didn’t you ever tell me about it?”

She lowers her hand from her mouth and gives a half-shrug. “Because I was embarrassed. I mean, he was our teacher, and he wore that gross toupee that looked like a dead cat.”

“Oh, my God, I forgot about the toupee.” I pull a face. “Okay, I’m not a fan of your mom, but she seriously sold herself short dating him.”

“That was kind of my point. She always dated these sleazebags because she was desperate and didn’t want to be alone. Then they would break her heart, and she’d fall apart until she met someone new and then try to clean up her act. At least, that’s how she used to be. Then she started dating drug addicts and got high all the time.” She sighs, her shoulders hunching inward. “I don’t want to turn out like her. I really don’t.”

I gape at her. “Wait, you think you’re going to turn out like your mom?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Sometimes, I wonder if I will. And then I started working at that place where she worked once … and then the whole thing with you …” She grows quiet, staring out the window.

“What whole thing with me?” I ask softly, my heart hammering in my chest.

Her shoulders rise and fall as she breathes in and out. Then she turns her head toward me. Her eyes are glossed over with tears, radiating her fear. “You’ve always taken care of me, and I’ve always loved it more than I wanted to admit. I remember that time when I was fourteen and you came and picked me up from my house. When you put your arm around me, I’d never felt safer in my entire life. And when you made that promise to me … I wanted it so much. But wanting something like that from someone else … getting so consumed by someone … It’s what destroys my mom time and time again. She’s never been able to handle being on her own unless she’s high or drunk … I want to be able to say that I’d be okay if you left me, but even just thinking about you leaving me makes my heart ache.” She’s breathing fiercely at the end, as if her words have shocked her to death.

My reaction mirrors hers. Never have I imagined she feels the same way about me as I do her. I have no fucking clue how to handle her fear. And it’s all because she thinks I’ll break her heart, and she’ll go off the deep end like her mom.

“You want to know the first time I realized I liked you more than as a friend?” I ask and then hold my breath, worried she’ll say no.

She wavers for what seems like the end of all time before giving an unsteady nod.

“It was back when I came home from that trip from Paris—when I gave you the snow globe.” I feel like I’m about to cut my heart out, hold it out to her, and hope she’ll take it, which kind of seems really disgusting when I think about it. “You looked so different, and I remember noticing. I thought I was just being weird after not seeing you for three months and just really missed you. But then Levi, this guy I hung out with sometimes, came up and asked me if you had a boyfriend, and I got really jealous and told him you did.”

“You did?” she asks, surprised.

I nod. “I totally did. Then I felt bad because you trusted me so much, and I never wanted to break that trust. So I told you at lunch. Then Wynter started teasing you about having a crush on someone else, and I thought—well, hoped—it was me. When I found out it wasn’t, my heart got a little crushed.”

She elevates her brows. “Your heart got crushed when you were fourteen?”

I nod, reaching out and cupping her cheek. “It did. And when I was fifteen. And sixteen. And seventeen. And eighteen. And a week ago. A day ago. Every time I’m reminded that I can’t be with you the way I want to. Never have I felt my heart break so much as when I saw you break apart over guilt you should never feel. It kills me to see you in so much pain. And I’d never,
ever
do anything to cause you that kind of pain, whether you think so or not.” I smooth my finger along her cheekbone. “And whether you believe me or not, I know you’ll never turn into your mom. You’ve had your heart crushed by her and your dad, and still, you took care of your mom every damn time she fell apart.

“You’re so fucking strong, Wills. Everyone around you knows it. Your mom fucking knows it, although she’ll never admit it. And I know you are more than everyone because, whether you think I do or not, I know you better than anyone.”

“I know you do.” Tears flood her eyes. “You’ve always been there for me. Even when I tried to push you away, you always came back.”

We stare at each other, our hearts erratically pounding, and then we’re both leaning in. I don’t even know who moves first. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is our lips meet in the middle, and she doesn’t pull back.

Her fingers tangle through my hair as she draws me closer. We kiss fiercely, grabbing onto each other, gasping for air yet refusing to break the connection to breathe.

I don’t know how long we stay in the car kissing, but when the sun begins to set, we break apart and head into the house. The second we step over the threshold, our lips collide again.

Grabbing her thighs, I scoop her up in my arms, and she hitches her legs around my waist. I groan, remembering the last time she did this: how I rocked against her, how she moaned.

I want more this time.

As much as she’ll give me.

Carrying her blindly through the house, I stumble down the hallway and into my bedroom. When she pulls back to see where we are, I think she might panic. Instead, she seals her lips to mine and bites down on my lip. My body shudders, and I damn near collapse to the floor but manage to stumble over to the bed.

Setting her down on the mattress, I cover her body with mine and kiss her slowly, deliberately, letting her know I’ll take my time.