“You know what?” he hisses. His lower lip juts out as his chiseled jaw clenches. “I don’t care. Think whatever you want about me.”
“Think whatever I want?” My eyes narrow into tiny slits as I hold my stare, yet he struggles to hold his. He keeps glancing erratically off to the sides, to the floor, to the ceiling. But never back to me. “I think that you infuriate me,” I say. “I think that you are an arrogant jackass who can never simply be nice to someone, because it doesn’t fit in with the act you’re putting on.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly squeezed shut as he takes a few deep breaths. I watch his chest rise as the air enters his abused lungs. The smoking isn’t good for him. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“Let me finish,” I order sharply. The anxiousness has faded, replaced with confidence fueled by adrenaline. “I also think that you’re a jerk. Your ego is too big for your own head, and you think that you look cool by being a badass. But really, Tyler? You just look pathetic.”
Tyler’s face falls, his taut expression crumpling as his lips twitch slightly. “Alright, now I just look like a complete moron coming up here and telling you that I’m attracted to you. You could’ve let me down easier.”
“I thought someone as badass as you could handle it.”
He stuffs his curled-up fists into the pockets of his jeans and averts his gaze to the windows. For a short while, he just stares at the sky with a sad look in his eyes. In between the explosive noise of the fireworks, I can hear his breathing deepening. He blinks and glances over his shoulder at me. “And I thought you’d figured out that I’m not really a badass.”
The moment the final syllable rolls off the tip of his tongue, my entire mind-set transforms. He’s vulnerable, and I am completely right. His walls are a mask. It’s all an act, a role he’s trying to play. The crude comments and leching over Tiffani and the addictions: they’re fake. It’s all fake. There’s more to him. Like today in the kitchen with Ella. He wasn’t a badass then, and he wasn’t a badass when he was joking with Jamie. Sometimes his facade slips. And sometimes I’ve been there to see beneath it.
It’s the way his eyes sometimes soften, offering a true glimpse of what he’s about to anyone who is willing to look. And I don’t know why it hasn’t hit me until this moment. It is so, so obvious. Our irrelevant arguments and pathetic small talk and constant glares seem so…so inevitable, like we couldn’t stop, like we enjoyed the bickering. Somehow. We have sneered at one another since the day I arrived, fighting to try to find each other’s weaknesses. Mine is my insecurity. Tyler’s is the truth.
And beneath it all lies attraction.
Tyler is attracted to me, and I am attracted to Tyler.
The realization makes my heart skip a beat, my blood running cold as I lift my eyes to his. It’s like I’m seeing him for the first time all over again, and now that I’m not seeing him as some jackass who rudely stormed into a barbecue, I can study him in a new light. His eyes are mesmerizing, his jaw is perfectly crafted, and his plump lips form a mischievous crooked smile. Not only that, there are so many things about him that I’m dying to find out. Mostly, I just want to uncover the truth about him. I need to know who he really is, not who he wants me to think he is. He’s pretending, just an actor playing a role. I need to know what happens backstage, after the show ends and the curtains come down. Who’s left?
Tyler notices my stare boring into him, and he looks perplexed.
“I think,” I say, drawing in a sharp breath, “that I’m attracted to you too.”
My words take him aback. He slowly turns his body completely around to face me, and he removes his hands from his pockets. Utter surprise dominates his expression. His widened eyes meet my gaze from five feet away, and he bites down on his lower lip. “You are?” He arches an eyebrow as though he can’t decide if I’m playing a game or not.
In all honesty, I really wish I was.
I shouldn’t be attracted to my stepbrother.
“I am.” It almost hurts to admit it. But at the same time, there’s a sense of relief that relaxes the tightness in my chest. I can no longer meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” Tyler demands. He warily approaches me, his steps slow as he relaxes his fists. His gray T-shirt is tightly fitted to his body, and I find myself analyzing every detail of his outfit as he moves nearer. Gray T-shirt, dark jeans, and the white Chucks that match mine. “Don’t regret anything.”
When I glance up from the ground, where his feet have suddenly appeared next to mine, my breath hitches as I realize how close he is. His face is dark as he peers down at me, his eyes soft and gentle again. Over his shoulder, the sky continues to light up with every color of the rainbow. He lifts his hand to my elbow and skims the tips of his fingers against my skin. Delicately, he traces a line down to my wrist before moving his hand to my waist. He gently grips my body.
“What’s happening?” I whisper. The atmosphere is too charged to speak any louder, and I can feel myself becoming breathless. I want to object, to push him away, because I know that this is wrong. But I don’t. I don’t, because I like the feeling of his skin against mine.
My eyes are locked somewhere between the tip of his shoulder and the window, but they’re not quite focused. He must pick up on how rigid I am, because his thumb begins to soothingly rub circles by my hip. His breathing is slow, and the scent of firewood and mint captivates me, drawing me in and charming me completely. He moves his lips toward the edge of my jaw. Softly, he places them against my skin, moving in a slow line toward the corner of my lips. He stops when he gets there.
“Let me kiss you,” he murmurs. He breathes against my cheek, hovering in trepidation.
“But you’re my stepbrother,” I whisper, my throat dry. My voice quivers, and I just can’t control the anxiety that is rattling every inch of my body.
I sense Tyler swallow. “Just don’t think about it,” he tells me, right before he takes the plunge and presses his lips to mine.
And this time around, it’s even better than before. His lips are soft and moist as they lock with mine. I can almost feel his nervousness, like he can probably feel mine. The fireworks are still exploding. His grip on my waist tightens as he pulls me against his body. I don’t mind. I like the feeling.
“Hey!” a loud voice yells from somewhere along the hallway, but it doesn’t quite register in my mind. And quite frankly, I wouldn’t care even if it did. “Cut it out, guys.”
But we ignore the faint cry, too caught up in our wrong embrace to pay attention. My lips part as Tyler carefully wraps a hand around the back of my neck. He holds me close against him as his other hand drops from my waist to the small of my back. He dominates the kiss, controlling the speed and the intensity. But I don’t mind this either. I like this too.
The voice in the background grows louder, as do the footsteps that come along with it. “Get out of here before I arrest you both for trespassing.”
But I am still too wrapped up in Tyler. The heat from his hands radiates against my skin as he moves from a fast, light pace to a much slower, much deeper kiss. He tilts my chin up to get a better angle. I sure as hell don’t mind this, and I sure as hell like it.
“Alright, wrap it up,” the voice orders. It’s suddenly piercingly loud and gruff. My eyes snap open, my body stiffening beneath Tyler’s touch as a police officer meets my frozen stare. His arms are folded, and there’s a frown etched on his lips. “Cut it out already!”
“Damn it,” Tyler hisses as he finally tears himself away from me. With a hand thrown back through his hair, he slowly turns around to face our intruder. He folds his arms across his chest, his hands balled into fists. “You got a problem?”
“You are trespassing,” the officer states matter-of-factly, shrewdly eyeing us in a rather degrading manner. It’s like he’s just discovered mice in the school cafeteria.
“Trespassing?” Tyler repeats, but his tone is contemptuous
. “Don’t you have better things to do? Like sorting out those drunk fights out there on the field?” He gives a curt nod in the direction of the windows, where the finale of the firework display is underway. These fireworks are bigger. More dramatic, more colorful. Below, the football field is still heaving with the locals and police officers. Events on such a large scale as this are bound to be policed. It’s the same in Portland.
“Enough with the attitude,” the officer snaps. He takes a challenging stance, his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips. “This school is closed apart from the designated hallways. You are trespassing, and I am giving you the chance to leave by yourself before I have to make you.”
“Make me?” Tyler echoes sharply. I begin to take a step in the direction we came in, but I pause to reach out for the hem of his T-shirt. It doesn’t look like he’s about to move. He’s too busy fixing his eyes on the man opposite. “Can’t you just give us a second? We’ll get out of here, but you kind of interrupted something.”
“Tyler, just come on,” I murmur. I’m a little out of breath from all the kissing, and it’s exhilarating. I want to do it all over again.
“Yes, I figured I interrupted something,” the officer remarks, and he takes the time to glance between the two of us in disapproval. It causes my cheeks to flood with color. “I’m not asking to reason with you. I’m asking you to leave, and I expect you to do it. Don’t try to waste my time, son.”
“It’s a goddamn hallway,” Tyler mutters as he throws his hands up in frustration. “It’s not like we’re sneaking around the White House. Just give us five minutes.”
“Can’t you take no for an answer?” the officer asks, shaking his head in disbelief at Tyler’s persistence. “Didn’t your old man ever teach you how to obey orders?”
I might not know much about Tyler, but I know that the mere mention of his dad is a surefire way to set him off. And that’s exactly what happens.
“Are you a fucking asshole or what?” Tyler hisses, his tone suddenly venomous as he puffs out his chest and steps toward the officer. For a second I think he’s about to take a swing at him, but thankfully he doesn’t.
“Alright, that’s it,” the officer grunts. He moves one hand to his belt as he yanks out a pair of cuffs, his receding hairline allowing me to see every wrinkle on his forehead. And right now, there are a lot of them. He looks completely worked up. “I have asked you to leave, but you are refusing orders and your attitude is downright inappropriate, so I am arresting you under Section 602.”
The color drains from Tyler’s face at the exact same moment that my mouth falls open, and right then, the officer’s eyes flicker over to meet mine. “Both of you.”
Chapter 19
“You couldn’t have just kept your mouth shut?” I hiss to Tyler. I keep my voice low in fear of getting ourselves into even more trouble, which is something I really can’t afford to do right now. Pressing a hand to my forehead, I slowly rub my temple.
“Cop was a prick,” Tyler mutters in return. He’s awfully disgruntled as he slumps farther down against the wall, his lips forming a firm scowl that I doubt will fade anytime soon. He stares out of the holding cell at the busy station, glowering at each officer in contempt. “They all are.”
“We wouldn’t even be here if you’d just walked away.” My forehead is creased with worry as I mentally prepare a list of possible punishments that Dad will sentence me to. Grounded for the rest of the summer? Sent home? Forced to do his laundry?
I glance around the cell. There’s a woman throwing a tantrum in the corner, throwing her body around and slapping the floor as though it’ll help her get out of here. There’s also a man built of muscle standing in silence with his back against the wall and his huge arms folded across his chest. I refrain from meeting his eyes.
From our spot on the bench, Tyler and I sit close by each other but not close enough to touch. He groans under his breath and drops his head, leaning forward to prop his elbows up on his knees. “My mom will get us out of it,” he murmurs. He exchanges a quick sideways glance with me, but I’m not entirely convinced.
“What? Because she’s an attorney?” I snort. It’s impossible to be positive in this terrible situation, but the more I think about it, the more I realize Ella knows the law like the back of her hand. She has to. And with knowing the law comes knowing the loopholes.
“Because she’s done it before,” he says as he straightens up again. He interlocks his hands and twiddles his thumbs, his eyes focused on his lap. “She always gets me out of it.”
“Before,” I echo. I roll my eyes before focusing on what’s on the other side of the metal bars. There are desks overflowing with paperwork and telephones that apparently never stop ringing. There’s also a security officer standing watching over us all from afar, his wrinkled face pulled tight, his eyes narrowed. I tilt my head to face Tyler again. “How many times have you been arrested?”
The corners of his lips quirk upward into a smirk. “Once. Twice. Maybe a couple more than that.”
“What for?”
“Um.” He scratches his head as he rolls his tongue over his lower lip. I can’t help thinking about his mouth again. “Stupid stuff,” he finally admits. He shrugs as he gets to his feet, straightening up and stretching his arms. I gaze at him, not quite caring about what he’s about to say. “Fighting,” he says as he cracks his knuckles, “vandalism, disrupting the peace.” He chuckles as he throws a cautious glance over his shoulder. “And trespassing,” he finishes.
“At least you haven’t killed anybody,” I say lightly, but I don’t know why. A week ago I would have turned my nose up in disgust at him for even being arrested in the first place, no matter what for. But now the enigma that is Tyler Bruce is winning me over and my opinion on him has greatly altered within three days.
“Not yet,” he corrects. He presses his lips together, pursing them slightly as his eyes narrow back into their usual state. “I’ve got someone in mind.” My lustful gaze immediately turns to horror. Tyler mimics my expression before letting a sharp laugh escape his lips. “Eden,” he says, shaking his head and quickly rolling his eyes.
“I haven’t figured out your sense of humor yet,” I defend, folding my arms across my chest and heaving a sigh. He’s still a puzzle to me. “I didn’t even know that you had one.”
He smiles again and gives me a clipped nod. “Good one.”
“Bruce, Munro,” a voice barks. It startles the two of us, and Tyler promptly spins around to meet the disapproving eyes of a Culver City police officer on the other side of the bars. “Your parents are here.” Our cell companions laugh.
“We’re going to die,” I tell myself quietly as my breathing quickens. I try to swallow the lump in my throat as I will myself to keep it together. “Oh my God. We’re actually going to die.”
“Shut up,” Tyler orders, his voice even quieter than mine, and he fixes me with a stern look as I stand. “Let me do the talking.”
Thankfully, our arresting officer—Officer Sullivan—is no longer around. Perhaps he’s back out on the streets, searching for more Fourth of July celebrators’ nights to ruin. He seemed stubborn that way, like he had a deeply rooted grudge he wanted to take out on everyone else. The second officer is a lot younger and a lot less frightening. His name is Officer Greene, and he unlocks the cell and swings open the barred door for us.
“Follow me,” he commands with a sigh. I trail along behind Tyler through the bustling station as officers brush past us with little respect. Officer Greene leads us out of the main office and into a smaller one, and lo and behold, there are my dad and Ella.
Dad’s hands are on his hips as his scornful eyes fix on the pair of us, and I fear he might pass out. He looks pretty riled up. Ella is angled slightly in front of him, and for the first time, I see her with a completely solemn expression. She firmly presses her lips together, her hands clasped in front of her. Whenever I’ve seen her furious at Tyler, there’s always been a hint of moth
erly sympathy in her features. But right now, there’s nothing. She has her attorney face on.
“What the hell are you two playing at?” Dad snaps. His face continues to grow a hot red as he huffs, but Ella quickly steps forward to cut in before anyone can muster up a reply.
“Officer…?” She pauses to squint at Officer Greene’s badge.
“Greene,” he finishes for her.
“Officer Greene,” she says. Clearing her throat, she extends her arm to shake his hand. “Can you explain to me why they have been arrested for trespassing? By the way, I’m an attorney.” She arches her brows as she awaits an answer, and Officer Greene shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a little surprised, knowing he can’t bullshit his way around her.
“Trespassing under Penal Code 602,” he states without leaving her eyes, “within Culver City High School. Only the specified areas of the campus were open to the public for this evening’s celebrations, and they were found in a hallway in a closed block.”
“Really?” Ella almost laughs at how pathetic it all sounds, and I’m stunned to see her so in control. She’s normally rather quiet, only ever raising her voice at Tyler. “They stumble into the wrong hallway and you arrest them?”
“Ma’am, I was not the arresting officer,” Greene informs her. “Officer Sullivan doesn’t have much patience, and your son here was showing a bit of attitude when asked to leave. They were given several chances to do so.”
Tyler snorts but quickly stops himself and drops his head to the ground before anyone can call him out. Ella does, however, shoot him a fiery glare.
“I was in that school tonight,” she continues, fixing her attention back on Officer Greene, “and I do recall seeing No Entry signs. But No Entry signs are not the same as signs warning that trespassing is an infraction and, therefore, neither of them were properly informed that they were committing an offense. They cannot be arrested on the grounds of your colleague’s short temper.”