Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) (14 page)

Outside, the rain began to pick up again, the drops pelting the car in a steady, hypnotic pace, obscuring the windshield in a sheet of gray. Inside, the air arced with electricity.

She hadn’t looked at me like this in months. I’d missed her so much. As she reached out to brush the hair off my cheek, painstakingly slow, I was worried this was a figment of my hormone-crazed brain.

Her thumb traced my lower lip. I kissed the pad.

God, I missed this.

My body was humming to life.

She scooted closer and I collected her into my arms, inhaling the sweet tropical flower scent of her shampoo.

Tentatively, she pressed her lips to my neck, just behind my ear. “I love you, Reed,” she whispered.

I moaned.

I ached.

I. Loved. This. Girl.

Our lips found each other. Our bodies wound like snakes in heat. The temperature in the car heated about a hundred degrees. I wanted to devour her, I’d missed her so much. My body’d missed her so much.

She scrambled for my T-shirt and yanked it off. I didn’t waste time thinking about it. I did the same with her sweater and shirt and cupped her around her bra. I pulled back, fascinated by the change.

She smiled shyly. “They’re a little bigger now.”

Wow. Awesome.

She kissed me again and I pressed her back onto the seat, settling between her legs. I kissed her all over. Her lips, her cheeks, her neck, her shoulder. I wanted her to know how much I wanted her. How much I missed her. How much I loved her.

She whimpered and trembled beneath me.

I sat up and fumbled with the snap of my jeans as the wind howled around us, mimicking the blood rushing through my ears. This was it. But, hey, at least we didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant.

But then I saw her eyes. The eyes I adored. The eyes that anchored me. They were full of pain, tears hovering on the lids. And was that fear?

No. Not of me? I immediately shoved back.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

She sat up and pulled her sweater across her chest. She wouldn’t look at me. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me. This isn’t nothing.” I yanked my T-shirt back on. “What just happened?”

She afforded me the tiniest of glances. Like she was ashamed. “I don’t know.” Her voice was tiny. “I’m sorry.”

I offered her my hand. She took it. “Don’t be sorry, baby. Are you okay? Did I scare you?”

She shook her head and sniffled. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She looked at me again. “I guess I’m just not ready.” She looked down at our joined hands. “Maybe it’s just Peanut again. Hormones, you know?”

I nodded. “I guess.” Though I think she was lying. Again.

September 8
th

The first two weeks of school were pretty freakin’ horrible, but I’ve tried not to whine too much to Reed and Roxanne, and I definitely haven’t said anything to my parents. I refuse to be a baby about it. But it’s wearing me down. I mean, seriously, how many times can the same girls think it’s funny to point out my “beer belly” or laugh when I run to the bathroom to pee for about the four hundredth time?

Thankfully, not everyone’s mean. Pregnancy isn’t unheard of around here. I think it was just not expected from Reed and me. A couple of the quiet girls who I never knew before have started talking to me, asking when I’m due and if I’ve thought up any names. It’s sweet, makes me feel a little less like a freak.

But today was a whole other matter. Totally shitty. Let me tell you all the multiple reasons . . .

Jonah brought Chloe to sit at our lunch table. Talk about awkward. I guess they kissed and made up after we ran into them at the restaurant and she spilled the beans. I just kept my eyes down and concentrated on my food. (When we got up to leave, I did plant a big kiss on Reed’s lips just to show her he’s still mine.)

In Psychology, Jevon called me Reed’s “baby mama,” and he and Tiffany behind me laughed. A lot. I think she also called me a slut under her breath. I almost cried, and I hate it when I cry because I’m mad. Or frustrated. Or anything.

Just when I thought life couldn’t get any worse, it did. Coach Halifax kicked me off the drill team. Stupid Code of Conduct! I was co-captain, I love drill team. She knows that. It lets me spend time with Roxanne, dance around and, if I’m being totally honest, hang on the fringes of the popular girls. Laugh and joke and pretend to be one of them. I liked how that felt. Normal in the sea of abnormal my life’s become—even if it’s all fake. But now even that is gone.

Topping off my ultra crappy day, after my doctor appointment, Reed took me to the beach. It was raining, we were alone, we’d just had an emotional experience . . . of course we ended up making out. I hadn’t thought I’d feel like
that
again. But Reed is safe. My home. So I tried. I really did. I know he’s missed me, missed that. I wanted to do it for him . . . for us. I tried to focus on happier times, pre-baby. I fought to remember the dinners, the romantic movies he’d taken me to, the flowers he’d given me, the day he gave me his class ring, the way he always made sure I was okay after we did it . . . the scent of his skin, the little mole on his chest, his sweet smile. I know he’d never hurt me. But as soon as he was on top of me, between my legs, I just couldn’t. The Night roared back into my mind, almost like it was happening again, and I froze, scared and embarrassed. He drove me home and kissed me goodnight like nothing happened, but I feel the shift between us. And I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to fix it.

Them’s the Breaks, Kid

M
eeting Jeremiah Timmons changed my life.

First, he started working at the movie theater and took my position as low man on the totem pole, thus moving me up a notch. Second, he was a year older than me, but he already had a kid. It was like looking at a foreign specimen under a magnifying glass as I watched his girlfriend drop him off at the front door, screaming baby strapped in the back of a beat up Chrysler.

It was like I was examining my own life in, oh, five months. Plus a few maybe, since his kid looked to be teething, if the screeching and drool were any indication. (Yeah, I’d been reading Mel’s
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
and
What to Expect the First Year
books. Scary stuff.)

I trained Jeremiah that morning how to use the cash register and the popcorn machine and how to avoid Mr. Ross’ bad moods.

“Is he that much of a dick?” he asked.

I shrugged, my mind automatically recalling the day I’d had to leave when Mel was bleeding. He wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but he hadn’t been a total douche. There was something in his eyes . . . a brief flicker . . . like maybe he understood. “Kinda. He can ride us pretty hard, but if you do your job, show up on time, and treat the customers nice, he’s all right.”

Jeremiah made a non-impressed mumble then we moved about our tasks. The day flew by. He was cool, quiet. A good worker. He reminded me a little bit of myself. Kind of a loner.

Finally, on our lunch break, I was dying of curiosity. “So, you’ve got a kid, huh?”

He flicked a wary glance my way. “Yeah.”

“Boy or girl?” I couldn’t tell. They all look the same at that age; bald and fat. And squirmy.

He bit his sandwich. “Boy.”

I nodded. “Cool.”

We ate in silence a while longer as a few people trickled in and out with their food and making phone calls. I glanced up at the silver clock on the wall, ticking down our time alone together. I didn’t know this dude, but somehow I sensed he was one of the few people who would understand what I was going through. I opened my mouth, closed it. Would he think I was a moron? Shit.

I bowed my head and studied my soda can. “My girl’s gonna gave a baby, too,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Silence.

I drank. Finally met his eyes.

He nodded. “Sorry.” And his eyes said he meant it.

I set my can down and the metal clanked hollowly. “Sorry?”

“Yeah.” He flopped his half-eaten sandwich down. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Cayden. I do. But there are times I would give anything to not have him.” His pained eyes met mine and I saw sincerity mirrored back. “Having a kid is the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done. No sleep, he cries all the time for no freakin’ reason. And do you know how much diapers and formula cost?”

I shook my head dumbly, though I had a vague idea after our trip to Walmart.

“Well it’s nearly enough to drown you. And that’s not including the hospital bills, doctor visits . . . Not to mention my girl’s about whacked out with hormones.” He shook his head. “If I had it to do all over again . . .”

He didn’t have to say more.

My stomach dropped.

My worst nightmares come true. What had we done?

By the time I met Melissa at her house that night, I was prepared to lie, cheat, and steal to get her to reconsider adoption.

I had my arguments all laid out in my mind.

It would be best for Peanut. A better established family could give the baby everything we couldn’t.

Everything Jeremiah said. Expensive (see above.) No sleep. Crying for no reason. Did I mention expensive?

We were too young. What about having a normal life? (Wouldn’t she want that for Peanut, too?)

I would reference Jonah’s idea for open adoption. We could pick the family and stay in touch. It was the perfect solution for everyone.

Now I just had to get her onboard and get over the feeling that I was being a selfish jerk.

“Hi.” She met me at the door and brushed a kiss to my cheek. “You smell like butter.”

I moved past her and ignored her quizzical frown.

She followed me to her room and I was more than thankful that Chris and her parents weren’t home for once.

I paced the girly space, eying her drill team trophies, the stuffed frog I’d given her for Valentine’s Day, her movie posters . . . anything but her staring at me from the doorway with her arms crossed, her belly bump a silent accusation.

“Reed?”

I glanced up from my class ring on her dresser. “Yeah?”

She took a step toward me. God, she’d gotten bigger. “What’s wrong?”

I swallowed. How was I going to do this? I sunk down onto her bed and dropped my head into my hands.

The bed dipped as she sat next to me. Her hand caressed my shoulder. “Baby?” Her fingers speared through my hair, rubbing my scalp in soothing circles. “What happened? Did your dad say something again?”

I rolled my head to the side and studied her face. Her sweet eyes watched me, soft with tenderness.

Tears burned my throat as fear and pain whipped through my gut like a tsunami. I gripped her hand. Squeezed. “I love you, Mel.”

Her brows dipped as fear rippled across her face. “I love you, too, Reed. What—?”

“I think we need to talk again about giving Peanut up for adoption. Seriously, this time.” There. I’d said it. It wasn’t so bad.

She dropped my hand and jumped from the bed like I had leprosy, her eyes spewing a thousand shades of venom. “What?”

“I—”

“How could you say that? We’ve discussed this!” She spun away, spun back, her face mottled red. “We made up our minds.”