Wreckless (19 page)

“Who cares? How was the rest of Jake?”

“Oh my gosh, Rayla. Nothing happened.”

“That's not what I heard.”

“What? From Jake?”

“No.” Rayla sighed at the other end of the phone. “He said nothing happened, too. But I heard he had you naked in the hallway.”

“Seriously, do you think I'd get naked in a hallway?”

“One more glass of punch and you'd’ve been getting naked anywhere.”

So not true. But also, I was never drinking again.

“No. He just kissed me.”

Rayla squealed on the other end, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear as I smiled.

“I knew it. I knew he liked you. When you guys came in, he was holding your hand and then I thought he was going to
kill
Mike when he tried to kiss you. I'm so excited. Jake Moore.” She sighed and then said it again as if I didn't know who he was. “Jake. Moore.”

“Rayla—”

“You can totally sit with me and Jamie at the game Friday. I mean, you're going to want to sit on our side because you'll be cheering for Jake, right?”

Oh, so wrong. Well, probably right, but only in my head.

“Um, not so much.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm not seeing Jake again.”

I expected another squeal or something. Even sober Rayla was very emote'y. But nothing for a long moment before she asked, “What do you mean you're not seeing Jake again?”

She sounded as confused as I felt.

“He made it really clear he wasn't interested. We were just hanging out that night. Nothing else.”

“But no. He'll call.”

“Didn't ask for my number.”

“Whatever. He'll call the house. I mean, he said you lived out in the boons. Obviously you have a house phone.” She paused and then laughed at herself. “Well, duh. I just called it.”

“Rayla, he's not calling.”

I felt like crying, but there was no way I was letting this new person hear that minor snap across a phone line. I had no idea how trustworthy she was. She might even be interested in Jake herself.

“Well, hell. I was hoping if you dated Jake you'd be over here more often. We can still hang out. Screw him. Boys are stupid.”

It was exactly what I needed to hear.

“Boys are
so
stupid.”

“Hey, speaking of stupid boys, did you light that guy’s truck on fire?”

# # #

“What was the fight about?” My mother was studying me as I set the table.

“What?”

“The fight. With Leah. What did you guys fight about that you made you come home in the middle of the night?”

“Next morning,” I mumbled under my breath, darn proud I'd stayed out all night. Then, in an attempt to avoid everything, I gave her the standard answer. “Nothing.”

“Bridget Anja Larson. Showing up at home at a crazy hour can't be nothing.”

I set the plate down, closing my eyes to push Leah away.

Leah, who had been my best friend for life. Who had stayed with me when I couldn't sleep the first nights after Christy's attack. Who hadn't wrapped me in cotton so tight I couldn't breathe. The one person who had let me stay a little bit me instead of
that Poor Larson girl.

A day later, and I still couldn't understand how she could do this to me. How she could cheat on me with my boyfriend. Had I become a burden? Did she resent me?

“Is it okay if we just don't talk about it and leave it at she did something horrible?”

I turned around, hoping she'd leave it at that.

Instead, what I saw was worry and sorry…and maybe a little pity.

I wrapped my arms around her, wet dishtowel and all.

“Don't worry, Mama. It's okay. Sometimes what you thought was good was just bad waiting to happen.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, sugar.” She gave me a squeeze and a kiss on the head.

“But if she shows up here, don't hand me a twelve gauge.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Bridget, get a move on or you're going to be late.” My mother stood at the end of the hall, shouting at me through my door.

I
wasn’t allowed to shout down halls. This was definitely a parental double standard.

I checked myself out in the mirror one last time. Not bad. Totally different, but not bad.

I'd dried my hair and let it stay loose—even though my dad almost passed out when he saw the lavender. Several times throughout the day my mom had had tell him in a low voice that at least it wasn’t something permanent.

I'd put on a comfortable fitted Gap tee over a mini-skirt. Okay, the skirt came more than halfway to my knees, but it definitely didn't cover them. That was darn short for me. Also, the very tip of my longest finger reached past the hem if I leaned a little. Definitely not dress code.

But it was the shoes that had me grinning.

Christy's boots fit perfectly. Not to mention they looked super-cute. And they made me feel…golden.

I realized why she'd left them at my door. Sliding them on, I'd remembered every time she'd worn them, how she'd smile and said they made her feel confident and fun. How she said,
these boots are me, even when I'm in sneakers.

I hadn't gotten it then, but I got it now. We all create rules and boundaries. Some keep us locked in and some push us out into happiness.

“Bridget, your ride is here.” My mother always did have better hearing than I did. She said her ears just woke up earlier than mine.

“What?”

A part of me had wondered if she'd show up. Had Leah thought I was so spineless, so weak-spirited, that she could drive by, apologize, and pick up where we'd left off? But as I listened, the engine that neared was deeper than her Taurus’s. A truck?

Tanner? Maybe both of them trying to bully me into playing nice. Of course, the old Bridget would more than play nice.

She’d cower.

Who knows what the point was. Guilt, probably.

I listened to the engine coming up the front drive. Only, it shifted. It didn't sound like a truck.

One headlight lit the way down the already bright morning and parked on the side of the drive in front of the house. My breath caught as the rider pulled his helmet off.

I was pretty sure I had a sappy smile on my face as Jake made his way up the walk.

I stepped out onto the porch, met him halfway. Hoping he'd come more than halfway.

He stopped, one foot braced on the bottom step.

“Nice boots.” He grinned, that grin that hitched up on one side and made his eyes crinkle.

“They aren't mine.”

“They should be.”

I glanced past him at the bike in the yard.

“Nice bike.”

He laughed and looked over his shoulder before running his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, it's not mine.”

“It should be.” I couldn't help it—I laughed again. It seemed so easy to laugh with him.

“So. I thought you might need a ride to school since…you know.”

“Yeah. I was about to ask my mother to drive me.”

I checked behind me to see she
had
managed to disappear at the right time.

“Maybe she wouldn't mind if I drove you.”

“On that?” I looked at the bike again. That was
so
not on the list.

“Feeling a little…nervous?” He came up the two steps to hover over me. “A little afraid, maybe?”

“No.”

I wasn't sure if the no was
no, I'm not nervous
or
no, I'm not getting on that bike with you.

Either way, it was true.

“Are you writing a rule in overactive imagination of yours right now?”

I just shook my head at him. I wasn't sure what to do with this Jake. This almost playful guy.

“What are you doing here, Jake?”

I thought at first he'd pretend not to know what I meant and offer me that ride again. Then I watched the grin slip. He took that last step toward me and took one of my hands in his, reminding me how much bigger they were than mine.

“I’m not an ass. I didn’t want you to think I was an ass.” He ran a hand through his hair and stepped back down and away from the porch. “I didn’t like the way we left things.”

Okay. I was wrong. I was getting on that bike.

“Give me a minute.”

I tried not to run into the house. I tired to keep my cool, but I probably failed. As I reached for my book bag sitting by the door, my mother was already shaking her head.

“No.” My mother's back was to me at the sink.

“I haven't said anything yet.”

“You're not getting on a motorcycle with a boy I don't know.”

“You could come meet him.”

“And I'd still say no.”

I walked across the room, standing where she couldn't help but see me.

“Mama, remember yesterday, about Leah, how I said sometimes a good thing was just a bad thing waiting to happen? Well, sometimes…sometimes the good things aren't wrapped up the way we thought they would be.”

I could see her struggling with that. I knew what she was thinking.

“
I
know him.” I went and wrapped my arms around her. “He’s a friend. Come meet him.”

I could tell she didn’t want to. That she was already passing judgment.

But then I felt her nod.

I took her out, hand in mine and watched Jake stiffen. He came forward, stuck his hand out, and smiled the least cocky smile I’d ever seen him give.

“Hi, Mrs. Larson. I’m Jake. I go to Fairview.”

My mama paused and then took his hand, hers trembling a bit.

“Jake, who are your folks?”

I stood by, letting Jake answer all her questions, trying not to be impatient or interrupt.

“Fine.” She finally nodded to me. “To school. Nowhere else. Don’t think I won’t call and see that you checked in.”

“Oh, Mama…” I tried to keep the exasperation out of my voice. Instead, I just steered her toward the house and grabbed my bag. “Go call Daddy and let him know I’ve run off with a biker.”

“Bridget Anja. Not funny.” But, she smiled as she said it. Let’s be honest, there wasn’t a woman Jake couldn’t charm. Of course, that was probably half the problem my mother saw.

By the time I'd grabbed my bag, Jake was back on the bike, straddling it. He handed me a helmet and then watched as I gracelessly tried to get on the bike without flashing my panties at him.

This was seeming like a worse and worse idea…until I wrapped my arms around him and leaned into his back. Then it didn't seem half bad.

Once we hit the road, he straightened, one of his hands resting across my arm at his chest. At the next drive, he pulled over.

“Where's your coat?”

I wasn't about to tell him I'd been too excited to see him that I'd forgotten it.

He shook his head, as if this coat thing was just one more way he'd keep me safe again. Leaning forward, he took his worn denim jacket off and handed it to me.

I was glad he turned back around, because I may have sniffed it before putting it on.

We rode the rest of the way to school, life feeling shiny and happy and new. At the school’s curb, he pulled to the side where I could slide off.

He put his hand on my leg to stop me. “Other side.”

“What?”

“Unless you want to flash the entire parking lot, get off on the other side.”

I was laughing again. It was like being drunk but without the wobbly. This was so much better.

I took the helmet off as he hung his on the handlebar and waited while he strapped the one I'd been wearing to the back of the bike.

“Why the motorcycle?”

He grinned. “It went with your new haircut.”

“Soooo… Thanks for the ride.”

“Sure.”

I waited, hoping there was more to this than just him feeling bad for me.

“Okay.” I guess there wasn't. I was standing there, looking at him, and wondering if we could be friends. I didn't think I could live every day feeling drunk off his closeness when it didn’t truly mean anything. “Well, thanks.”

I adjusted my book bag and stepped onto the curb.

“I missed you yesterday.” He stopped me in my tracks.

Oh.

I mean…
Oh
.

“I thought maybe we could, you know, re-discuss that discussion we had Saturday night.”

I was afraid he wasn't saying what I wanted him to be saying. But as I stood there, his grin started to slip.

“It's just,” he continued, “I wasn't really thinking about everything. I was thinking about stupid stuff, and then—”

“We could do that.”

We could definitely do that.

“Do what?”

“Re-discuss it.”

That grin came back, and my knees almost gave out just looking at him.

“Bridget.” He waved me back to him and just as I realized I was still wearing his coat. “I brought you something. Don't open it until you need it.”

He handed me a small, squishy envelope and then wrapped a hand around my neck and brought me up to him for a kiss.

It was different than the one at the party. Less desperate. More of a test, as if he didn't know where he stood with me as much as I didn't know where I stood with him.

But at the same time, I still wanted to melt into him. To let my body go loose and just take his heat.

If I'd thought my knees were weak before, they were liquid now.

He pulled back, running his hand across my cheek and down my neck. Goosebumps broke out over my entire body.

“I'll pick you up after school.” He glanced to my skirt. “In the truck.”

“I don't know. I could get used to the bike.”

“Yeah, my brother's not going to like hearing that.” He pulled the helmet over his head and glanced down again. “Nice skirt. Very short by Bridget standards.”

I laughed. He'd never stop teasing me.

“Next week I might get my ears pierced.”

With a shake of his head, revved the engine before taking off.

I headed into the school, feeling eyes on me. I knew I looked different, but you'd think a haircut wasn't much to make news over.

It had to be the golden boots.

Or the fact that somehow news of Saturday night had made it through the entire school population.

It was going to be a long day.

I walked the hall, weaving in and out of the crowd, just wanting to get to my locker and on to homeroom without dealing with all the looks.