Wreckless (8 page)

“Bridget, you plan on getting an eyeful?”

The blood rushed to my head so fast I thought I was going to pass out. I whirled around, pretty sure he wouldn't have cared if I didn't. To be honest, I didn't need my first experience with a naked man to be an uncomfortable striptease from some guy I’d met while hiding almost underneath his truck.

I mean, he was still going to be naked in the water, but water was one step away from clothes in this situation.

I heard him chuckle followed by the sound of denim crumpling in a heap. Then, before I could begin to wonder what was going on behind me, a loud whoop followed by a splash broke the silence and sent the heat ratcheting up my neck again.

“Okay, you can turn around.”

A part of me was afraid to, like he might be playing a joke on me and I was going to have that first naked guy moment anyway.

Taking my chances, I peeked over my shoulder to catch him standing about ten feet from the shore, the water lapping halfway up his chest.

Jake pushed the dark, wet hair back from his eyes with one hand. “Alright, darlin'. Your turn.”

It suddenly dawned on me why bad boys were such a draw. He was hot. Very hot. Probably very dangerous. And of course, way out of my league…which negated the dangerous, most likely.

Guys that dangerous didn't walk on the sunny side of the street with law-abiding good girls.

I forced myself over to the blanket. He watched me untie my tennies and stuff my socks inside them.

Then I reached back and unzipped the dress, keeping the straps on my shoulders, waiting for him to turn around. I wondered how long I'd stay daring as I slipped the strap off my t-shirt covered shoulder.

Yup. That's about how long.

“Jake.”

“Can't blame a guy for trying.” He dove under, his rear-end flashing white against the water's dark blanket, and then breaking the surface farther out facing the other direction.

As fast as I could—afraid I'd lose my nerve as much as I was afraid he'd turn around—I stripped everything off, down to my bra and panties. With my hand on the bra’s clasp, I considered leaving them on. I knew he'd give me a horrible time. But he didn’t even think I’d go that far.

I thought about the list and my life and the fact that I'd never done anything—
anything
—worth telling people about one day.

I had no stories beyond
went to
school, had a boyfriend, got cheated on
. Nothing
I
had done.

I reached behind me and undid the hooks of my very plain, very boring white bra, suddenly sad it didn't have little blue embroidered flowers or some other cute underwear thing. It was just your typical white undergarment from JC Penney. Same type I'd been wearing since Mama had driven us over to the mall to get the first one.

I stood there, watching the back of his head, my bra loose but still held in up front of me. Closing my eyes and hoping for the best, I let it drop to the ground and yanked my panties off. Without letting myself think about it, I sprinted toward the creek, the sharp pebbles bruising my feet before I hit the water at full speed.

Before Jake could turn around, I dove under, surfacing several feet from him.

I sucked in a breath, surprised how cutting the air felt against my skin, the water touching me everywhere. My braid was weighed down and half falling over my shoulder. I considered undoing it and trying to use all that hair as some type of shield, but even I knew that was cheating.

I treaded water, glad to be out past where I could touch the muck-covered bottom.

Jake pushed through the water to face me and, with one stroke, glided through the night-dark water to hover just in front of me.

That grin, that trouble-flagging grin, came out. “I didn't think you'd do it. I thought I was out here getting goosebumps for no reason.”

He was too close—physically—and too overwhelming in general. I was trying to tread water and use my hands to cover my breasts at the same time. It wasn't going so well, and it dawned on me that if I drowned, he would see me naked when he pulled my cold, limp body out of the creek anyway.

I let my hands slid down and paddle. And then, after just a moment of floating there, it dawned on me.

I was skinny-dipping.

Bridget Anja Larson was swimming naked in a farmer’s creek with the hottest guy she'd ever seen under a—thankfully—not quite full moon.

I pushed away, sending a stream of water toward him as I swam farther out.

Jake Moore was an enigma. There was nothing about him that didn't scream “dangerous.” From the way he drove, to the attitude he wore like an old, broken-in denim jacket, to that grin…and now the tattoo on that lean cut body.

And yet, I wasn't worrying.

“How many girls have you brought here?”

He made a choking sound as I faced him. “What?”

“How many girls?”

He stilled just watching me a moment.

“One.”

I found that difficult to believe. He seemed very comfortable knowing where to park the truck to get to the water. But why would he lie about the number being so low? Why would he—

Oh. Wow.

“Me?”

“Oh.” He ran his hand through his hair again and I was already feeling stupid. “I meant you and one other.”

Yeah. Because I don't count.

Not that it mattered. There was no way I was going there. He wasn't on the list. Guys like Jake Moore were trouble. That's what the ‘Moore’ was for…more trouble.

And while I was looking for a little adventure, I wasn’t looking to endanger life and limb. I’d already had my heart bashed in. There was no reason to put other body parts at risk.

But I was learning. If he was willing to be my guide tonight, I was willing to let him. I was a Rebellion Tourist. Maybe there’d be a t-shirt at the end of the tour.

I dove under the water, pushing myself through it, amazed at the way it felt so lush flowing over my body without a scrap of bathing suit wrapped around me. And I felt dangerous, for that moment, swimming to the dark side of the creek. I was the one who was dangerous. I stayed on the far side, letting myself float a bit and watch the stars.

The cool breeze slipped across my skin, chilling all those places that had been so heated before. I swam back to where Jake was and smiled.

I couldn't help it. If I did nothing else tonight—or for the rest of high school—I had my one thing. My one
very
dangerous thing.

I'd had a beer with a bad boy and gotten naked under the (not quite) full moon. Skinny-dipping so gave me street cred. You know, if anyone knew about it. And if the ‘streets’ in question were unpaved back roads.

He reached out, his hand snagging the end of my braid.

“What's with all this hair?”

My mother had been trying to get me to cut it, but I kept putting it off. I either forgot or had something else to do or worried about what I’d do to it. Leah had once told me I had really pretty hair and that guys loved long hair. I guess it had become my one nod to trying to be attractive.

“I'd planned to grow it out and then donate it to Locks of Love.” Actually, Christy and I had planned on doing it together. T
hat
didn’t happen. “But then I realized how short it would be. So I was going to grow it long enough so I’d still have a decent length when they cut it…and then I just got sidetracked.”

Or afraid to cut it.

He wrapped part of the braid around his fist and pulled me a bit closer. I pushed my hands out, using the water to try to keep some distance between us.

“Don't worry. I'm not going to touch you. I'm just looking.” He laughed when I shoved at the water again. “At the hair. I'm looking at all this hair. How long is it?”

“When it isn't braided, I can sit on it.”

“Bridget.” He sighed my name as if we'd been having this conversation for years and he was completely exasperated with me. “There's a world of difference between long hair and hair you can pee on. You've got to get this cut.”

Okay, when he put it that way, maybe it was a
little
long. But still, I liked it like that.

“I like my hair.”

“Do you?”

He didn't sound like he believed me. Which was weird. It seemed like an odd thing to not believe someone about.

“Yes.”

“How do you usually do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you usually do your hair?”

This is so not what I expected to be talking about the first time I was ever naked with a guy.

“Like this.”

“Back in a braid? All the time?”

I wasn't seeing the point, but I nodded, feeling my head pull against where he held the braid tight.

“You don't like your hair. You like the idea of your hair. If you liked your hair, you'd wear it loose.”

“But...” I wasn't sure
but
what. I just knew that cutting my hair seemed like a bad idea. It was part of me. Long hair. I pulled it back. It wasn't eye-catching or troublesome. It was just nice hair.

That no one could see but me.

I wasn't sure how to put that into words.

“I'm looking at this braid,” he held it up and ran his thumb over the fringed ends, “and I'm wondering what it's like loose. I'm wondering if it's soft, if it's as pale as it looks even wet, if it sways when you walk. Braids don't do that. Braids are for working. For keeping it out of the way when you help your mama around the house.”

He let my hair go and threw both hands back, pulling himself through the water and away from me.

How bad would it be to wear it loose? What would happen? There was something about loose hair that always seemed so
done
and sophisticated to me. So polished-on-purpose.

Christy had once said having long, beautiful hair in front of a guy was like waving a red flag at a bull.

I wasn't sure I could handle a charging bull.

“You're thinking too much.” Jake’s voice carried from where he was floating. I was distracted at how the light caught him across the creek, causing his chest to stand out in the darkness. “Your hair—it's somehow one of the rules, isn't it?”

I hated to tell him he was right, but somehow along the line, my braid had become like hiding the red flag—if no one saw it, no one would see me. And if no one could see me…

“Maybe.” I wasn't sure if I was answering him or me. Was it one of the rules?

Maybe
.

Chapter Seven

“So Bridget, how are we going to do this?”

I was a little nervous about what “this” was, but every time I tried to figure Jake out, I got him wrong.

“Do what?”

“The getting you back in your clothes part of the evening.” Who would have thought a guy could drawl about one thing and completely sound like he meant the opposite?

I was beginning to realize that when my daddy had said guys had only one thing on their minds, Jake Moore was exactly who he had been talking about.

“Same way I got out of them. You can go get yours, then turn around, and wait for me at the truck.”

He looked at me, one of those looks people give you when what they really want to do is say,
Are you sure?

I wasn't.

I didn't know if he was questioning the plan or my motives, but after a second he nodded and swam toward the shore. When his feet reached the ground he started out of the creek, first those shoulders broke the dark surface, then his back tapering down to his rear.

In junior high, Bobby Nichols had gotten suspended for mooning the girls’ P.E. class. After we were all duly nauseated, the only person who’d gotten laughed at was Bobby Nichols.

But watching Jake wade out of the water... If I'd known boys’ rear-ends looked like that, I might have been more likely to check out the Wrangler tags walking around school.

“Are you peeking, Bridget?” My eye traveled to where Jake looked at me over his shoulder. I dove straight under the water, needing to cool my cheeks as much as to get away from that very knowing look.

When I hit the air again, I had my back to the truck and wouldn't have turned around for any amount of money.

“Don't panic,” Jake’s voice carried over the water.

So, of course, I began to panic. I mean, those words don't exactly inspire calm. No one ever says,
Don't panic, but I just saw the most beautiful butterfly resting on a flower.

“What?”

“I can't find a sock. I need to turn the truck lights on for a second.”

Before I could reply, the smooth plane of the pond lit up, my head the only bump in its smooth, dark surface.

It felt like the lights were on forever and I began to wonder if I'd walked into some sick, sad practical joke.

First, we'll tell her parents she cheated on a test.

Then, we'll let her catch her boyfriend and best friend together.

And, for the grand finale, we'll get her alone in a secluded creek naked with no way home. We'll wait until she's out there by herself and then, BAM! Lights! Camera! Embarrassment!

Please sign this waiver and initial these four lines to end up on MTV's next Your Life Stinks reality show.

Just as my heart was starting to race beyond measure, the lights switched off.

“Sorry.” Jake’s voice drifted to me from the darkness. “Give me a sec.”

My eyes fell shut with a feeling of relief so tangible I wondered if that was what was warming my whole body. I gave myself one more lap across the creek and back, enjoying the water in a way I doubted I ever would again.

“Okay. I'm dressed.” Jake stood at the edge of the water looking out at me. “Here’s what I'm wondering: do I get to peek, too?”

I should have known. Embarrassment was bad enough. But turning the tables and using my curiosity wasn't fair. Especially considering that person had probably already peeked at enough girls to start a competitive cheer squad.

“I don't think so.”

“Now, darlin’, that's not really fair, is it?”

I couldn’t care less if it was. I cared about not being naked in front of a guy…especially a guy who was probably an eighteen-point-five on a scale of one to ten. Me, I was comfortably settled in at six. Just on the cushy side of the average.