“Obviously smarter than you. It was sprinkling a little while ago. I can’t believe you came out without your jacket. Sit down. You can use some of my blanket. I don’t want you to get pneumonia or something.”
Pierced-lip boy glances down. He gives me a half-grin, looking more like the guy I’ve seen before, while at the same time as though he’s slipping on a mask. “It’s okay to want to be close to me, Virginia.”
No, this boy is nothing like me. I don’t even know how I thought that. “Ugh. Could you be more arrogant? You’re not my type at all.”
My heart does this funny, rapid beat, slow down thing when he sits beside me. I pause a minute, trying to will my arm to stop shaking as I untangle it from the blanket and offer him part of it.
“Nah, I’m good.”
Pause.
“So, what is?” he says looking at me. He doesn’t skirt away from eye contact, I’ve noticed. Lots of the people I know do.
“What is what?”
“Your type. Tell me what rich girl Virginia—the girl with a plan, who likes to hang out at ghetto beach with a lantern and a weapon, but who also does her homework on weekends—looks for in a guy. I’m sure you have a list.”
“Why? Because I’m a girl, right? We all have to dream about having the perfect boyfriend? Someone who will, what…save us? Protect us?” My arm shoots out and I elbow him. This time, my heart freezes. I don’t even know this boy, yet I just elbowed him. And he is the kind of boy who belongs on what he calls “ghetto beach,” when we both know I don’t.
My body relaxes when he laughs. “I have a feeling that the night I helped you on the dock is probably the first time someone has had to save you, Virginia Woolf. It will probably be the last, too.”
“Don’t.” I shake my head. Heat, such a contrast to the weather, burns through me. “Don’t call me Virginia Woolf.”
He cocks his head, as though I’m a Rubik’s cube he’s trying to solve. “Sorry. You said your mom named you after her. Didn’t realize it was a biggie. Who is Virginia Woolf, anyway?”
At this, I can’t stop my eyes from growing wide. “Are you kidding me?” Yeah, he probably isn’t as homework-oriented as I am, but how does someone not know who Virginia Woolf is? Do they teach at his school? “She was a writer.”
“I’m kidding, rich girl. I’m not that dumb. Your mom a writer or something? She must at least be super fucking into books if she named you after her.”
My arms tighten around my knees, frustration making my muscles tight. “Yes.” Most people know who Charity Nichols is. She’s famous. She’s talented. She’s inspiring. No one knows she’s been more than one person.
“I bet you are, too, huh? Shit like that normally runs in families.”
It’s as though his words turn my insides into cement. My whole body goes rigid. “No. I hate writing. I don’t do it unless I have to.” I won’t become cursed. I won’t lose myself so deeply in fiction that I can’t handle the real world.
And then, because I want to get the conversation off me, I ask, “What about you? What did you inherit from your parents?”
This time, it’s him who goes stiff. “My mom bailed when I was young. I don’t know much about her.”
My heart does this softening thing.
He says, “Don’t feel bad for me. Fuck her. If she didn’t want me, then I don’t want her. My dad is cool, though.”
“Okay, then what did you inherit from him? My dad and I both like rules. He likes numbers, and I do as well.”
Pierced-lip boy shakes his head, chuckling softly. I feel my cheeks start to redden. “What? There’s nothing wrong with liking numbers and rules.”
“Hey.” He holds his hands up as though he’s trying to show he doesn’t mean to attack me. “I’m not saying there is. I’m just thinking you probably don’t want to know what I learned from my pops. We’ll leave it at that.”
Again, I notice his hands shake from the cold. I think he sees me watching and he jerks his arms down. Rolling his eyes, he grins as though he thinks I’m being ridiculous.
“Your eyes are two different colors.” I don’t know why I just brought that up to him. Duh. Like he doesn’t know what colors his eyes are. Not once in my life have I talked to a boy about his eyes.
“Hot, isn’t it?” His smile grows, and I feel the urge to hit him with my bat.
“Yeah, but it quickly gets canceled out by your mouth.” My mouth drops open when I realize what I said. Yes, he is cute. I’ve never liked a boy with facial piercings, and honestly never thought I would, but they suit him. He has a nice smile, when he’s not being a jerk. The tousled hair thing usually isn’t for me, but on him it is. “Not that…you aren’t…I didn’t mean.”
For what feels like the millionth time he shakes his head, as though I’m being ridiculous. “It’s okay to admit when you think someone is good-looking. I don’t know why people are so weird about sex. Especially girls. It’s annoying that people freak out when a girl admits she’s into sex. There’s nothing wrong with wanting it, or admitting to it.”
Wait. “What? I never said I was into sex. Not that I’m not into sex… I mean…ugh! Stop laughing at me!” I bury my face in my hands. Why the heck does he get me so tongue-tied?
When he finally stops laughing, I see his teeth chatter. He’s cold. And he should be. “Shut up,” I say again, and then I unwrap the blanket from around my right side, still keeping it around my left shoulder, and stretch it out to him. He pauses a second, watching me—no, dissecting me—like he’s trying to see everything inside me to figure out how I work. Then he takes it, scoots closer to me and wraps the blanket around his shoulders as well.
We’re both quiet for a minute before he says, “Don’t worry about it. I think you’re beautiful, too.”
Wow. Not hot. Beautiful. A shiver runs through me, even though I suddenly feel warm. He called me hot before, but hot and beautiful are two different things. When he moves even closer to me, I let him.
He isn’t part of my plan, and I’m not good at change. I’ve always needed to be the one who decides what will happen to me, instead of letting things happen on their own. This guy came out of nowhere, and though my instinct is to walk away, I don’t. I don’t even know if I’ll see him again after tonight. There’s a quiet whisper, deep in the darkest parts of me. I don’t know if it was there before and I ignored it, but that voice wants to enjoy this night. I can go back to my plan tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWELVE
~Ryder~
If I were here with Drea, it would just be normal to share a blanket with her. I wouldn’t give a shit if she knew I was freezing my balls off. Hell, I’d even wrap myself in a blanket with Tanner and Cody if I needed to keep warm. Cold is cold, and they’re my friends. But when Virginia asked me the first time, the shock got pushed away by pride. I didn’t want her to know I was so cold I felt numb. I could handle it.
When she held the blanket out to me a second time, there’s no way I could say no. I can’t even say it’s because of the temperature, either. This girl doesn’t go around sharing a blanket with guys on the beach. She definitely doesn’t do it with guys like me. I got the same feeling in my chest that I did when she gave me her number. I don’t get why a girl like her would care if I’m cold, or if I have wheels when I need them, but she does, and it makes this strange sort of happiness go off inside me—little firecrackers I’ve never experienced.
It’s that unbalanced feeling she gives me that makes me ask, “Why were you out on the dock that night? You don’t do shit like that.”
She takes a deep breath. I feel the fabric of her jacket against my arm. It’s warm, but I would rather it be skin. I wasn’t lying when I said she’s beautiful. She is. And the more I’m around her, the more I start to want her.
“How do you know?”
I don’t know… “Come on, Virginia. You’re stalling. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone. Hell, it’s not like you can’t tell that everything about me is more fuc
ked up than you doing a little exploring on a dock.” A part of me wants that last sentence back. People knowing who and what I am has never bothered me before, but with her, I suddenly don’t want to draw more attention to the fact that my life is screwed up. Because it is. Even though I’m cool with the life I’ve led, I know it’s fucked up.
“What are you doing out here tonight?”
Ah, so she’s going to respond to a question with one of her own. I don’t really have anything to hide, though. Scratch that. I have shit she doesn’t need to know, but this isn’t one of them. “I got in a fight with my brother. He’s an asshole.”
“What about?” she asks.
There’s a slight twitch in my chest at this question, but nothing too major. “I bought beer and a shit ton of food to celebrate my dad’s birthday. He got pissed and then accused me of selling drugs or stealing everything.”
She shivers, making me wonder if she’s cold or if she’s responding to what I said. Damn…maybe I went too far. I shouldn’t have told her; but then, why does it matter? This is who I am. There’s no changing me, and beautiful or not, I don’t chill with people who give me hell for who I am.
“You brought beer into your house for your dad’s birthday? And wait, why wouldn’t your brother want to celebrate?”
I wait for the real question, because I know it’s coming. This time, she doesn’t surprise me.
“Did you? Steal? Or do you sell drugs?”
The fabric of her jacket doesn’t touch my arm anymore. I’m caught between wanting the warmth back and being pissed at her questions. Of course she would assume, just like Luke did. It’s the reaction I expect. She’s a rich girl, and I’m trash. It is what it is.
“It’s not the first time I’ve brought beer into my house, and it probably won’t be the last. My dad doesn’t live with us, and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. He’d drink with me. Luke thinks he’s too good for us, that’s why he didn’t want to celebrate.”
I wait for her to pull the blanket away, too. Wait for her to get up. Wait for her to look at me like she doesn’t know what she’s doing here with me, because I don’t know, either. Or why I’m here with her.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have asked like that.”
Breath leaves my lungs when her fluffy coat touches my arm again. What about the last question? I want to ask her. Doesn’t she want to know if she’s sitting here with a thief or a druggie? Now my anger is aimed her way for a different reason. She should want to know that. She shouldn’t just let that go. Not a girl like her.
“I don’t sell drugs. I didn’t steal the stuff. I sold my hoodie and some other things.”
The light from the lantern flickers in her wide, green eyes. I smell her sweet scent mixed with ocean.
“That’s why you don’t have a jacket on tonight?”
“It’s not a big deal. I’ll get another one.”
Now I’m waiting for something else—to see pity in her eyes. I hate that shit, and I might lose it if she feels bad for me. It doesn’t come, though. There’s something else in her eyes now—it almost looks like respect.
There have only been a few times in my life anyone looked at me like I’d done something important. When I’d jack something for Dad and his guys; when Shane and I beat a few guys’ asses for giving Drea shit.
And now.
What I don’t get is why selling my jacket would make her look at me like I’m something.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her, but I’m not sure I want the answer. There’s shit I’ve done for Drea and Dad to be proud of me, but there’s nothing I could have done to deserve this girl seeing me that way.
“I always play by the rules. Always.” Her voice is soft. She’s staring downward at the blanket around us instead of at me. I want her eyes my way, but I’m scared if I push it, she’ll stop talking.
There’s never been anything in my life that’s scared me before.
“I need it,” she continues. “I know it sounds ridiculous, and to most people it probably is, but I need stability. I need my plans, and to be in control. Other people do crazy and reckless things. I don’t. I…”
When she doesn’t keep going, I scoot closer to her. It’s probably a stupid thing to do; this girl would be smart to get away from me. But she doesn’t move, so I put my arm around her. My fingers crave skin again, but all I get is the jacket.
The firecrackers start going off for the second time, then slowly—so slowly I’m not even sure she’s really doing it—Virginia lays her head on my shoulder.
I’ve held girls before—I’ve held Drea too many times to count—but it’s never made my body feel like it’s coming alive from the inside out.
“I had to deal with something I haven’t had to see in a long time. It scared me. I knew it was reckless to go out on that dock. I knew it was stupid but still, something inside me wanted to go out there. I didn’t want to get hurt, I just… I felt trapped, and somehow going out there made me feel free. I can’t,” she lifts her head. “I won’t do something like that again. I got it out of my system, and that’s the end of it.”
So many things dance in her eyes, some out in the open, others hiding. Most of it is a mystery to me, but I know there is more to this girl than I thought. She’s dealing with more than she shows the world.
And I suddenly want to be the one she lets inside to see it all. I want to be the one who makes her see it’s okay to live.
“Nothin’ wrong with losing control once in a while, Virginia.”
Letting go of the blanket, I let my right hand touch her cheek, lift her chin so she’s looking at me, and then keep letting it drift back until it makes a home against her neck.
Her skin feels as good as I thought it would—warm and soft. Reckless, in a way I've never experienced. “It can be fun.” Lowering my mouth, I touch my lips to hers.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
~Virginia~
As his mouth covers mine, fear pummels me, a wave going over my head like I’m trapped on a broken dock, scared that I might die. My reflex is to jerk back, to take a breath because air is something I need, and it’s okay to need that.
My vision is lost to anything except blue and brown, the twist in his eyes, the questions there, the comfort. The last part isn’t something I’d expect from a boy like him, and it makes another wave of fear threaten to drown me. But then his thumb brushes my neck and a tingle in my stomach makes my body shiver. It feels so good. He feels so good that I forget there’s the worry of drowning.
I lean closer to him, and that’s all the incentive he needs to take my mouth again. His tongue is at my lips, and I’m opening them to let him in. There’s tasting and touching and a twisting together of tongues. I giggle into his mouth at how my thoughts are all coming out in “T” words, and he chuckles as though he hears them.
The laughing lends only a quick interruption, not that I want one, before he’s kissing me again, and it’s all I can feel or think about. It’s all I want to know.
The studs of his piercings press into my skin, not painful, but reminding me they’re there.
He tastes like the air after rain—clean...new and almost like being reborn.
His hand feels big on my neck, but he’s gentle, much gentler than he seems when he tangles his fingers in my hair.
Just like everything is with him, the kiss is intense, urgent, fast moving. It was almost like he was born from the dark, coming out of nowhere the first night we met. Before I knew what was happening, he was there, his voice asking if I was hurt, his hand grabbing me to save me.
His lips are the same; they weren’t there and then they were, and now he’s wrapped around me, lowering me to the beach, a weight that freaks me out while grounding me at the same time.
My body pulses when his warm hand slides under my coat, under my shirt to touch the bare skin of my belly.
“Wait.” The palm of my hand lands on his chest. “Not…not so fast.”
And then his lips are gone. It’s seriously like this guy is a magician or something, the way he’s there and then he’s not.
“Shit. Sorry. Wanted to feel your skin.”
Holy wow. Those words echo through me, a pebble getting thrown into the water, little pulsing waves drifting from where it landed.
It’s then I realize that I really am lying on my back, and he’s lying on top of me. With one of his hands, he pushes the hair out of my face, and I want to ask him how it felt—my skin, that is. He wanted to touch it, and I want to know what it was like. Nothing comes out of my mouth, though. It doesn’t surprise me when he speaks. He says whatever is on his mind all the time. “This is so strange…” His voice has this far-off sound to it.
My body goes tense. “Great. Just what a girl wants to hear when a boy kisses her.”
He smiles, and it makes me smile in return because for the first time, it’s not a cocky grin.
“That’s not what I meant. I just…you’re like this compulsion I don’t understand. It’s like…” He shakes his head and then continues. “If I keep my hands to myself, can I kiss you again?”
I’m not sure what it says about me that he says I’m like a compulsion and then I want him to kiss me again. Maybe I’m more like Mom than I thought. My brain starts going haywire at the thought, memories and fears firing off in rapid succession.
Still, I nod my head and his mouth is moving with mine again, and it somehow quiets the noise inside my head.
Which is wrong. So, so wrong. But I always do what’s right, and that hasn’t helped Mom. It still hasn’t stopped her from creating Amelia and threatening the world I’ve built for myself.