Chapter 10
Andrew stared at his feet through his thick glasses, his worried face illuminated by his cell phone. Whatever troubled him was serious and he’d come to her for advice. It made her feel sort of sisterly toward the nerdy panty-peeper.
She leaned sideways and nudged him with her shoulder. “Look, Andrew. You’ll feel better if you get out what’s bothering you. We bonded the other day over beer cans and thongs. You can tell me anything.”
While she watched his inward struggle, she hoped he wasn’t going to tell her about something gross, like STDs or foot fungus. With hormonal teen boys, one never knew.
“I’m afraid you might hurt me,” he blurted out.
Not gross. Worse.
“What have you done?” She turned on the step to face him. He shifted his upper half away from her and seemed poised to bolt. Instead, he pulled out his phone, swiped a finger across the screen, and slowly turned it to face her.
Taryn watched in horror as a ten-second video clip played out in full, clear color.
Someone had caught her the other day with her boot on Andrew’s chest, her hair in disarray around her angry face, and her finger pointed in his direction. Wearing all black and acting seriously badass, she’d looked like an outraged warrior princess.
“What in the heck?” She yanked the phone out of his hand and hit replay. If not for the clear invasion of her privacy, she’d have appreciated that she did look kind of good. Sexy, even. She never realized how much she rocked dressed in boots and black jeans.
But that wasn’t the point. “Who took this? Take it down!”
Andrew shook his head, his face morose, like he was worried she’d hate him. Or hurt him. She was leaning toward the latter. “It’s too late. The video’s gone viral. You already have one hundred twelve thousand hits.”
She gaped. “One hundred twelve thousand?”
“Guys think you’re hot,” he rushed on. “Women want to be you. At least that’s what the eight thousand four hundred and two comments say.”
Shocked, she felt the blood rush from her head and pool at her feet. “Is this a joke? Please tell me that one percent of the entire American population is not watching me kick your ass.”
“Well, the percentage isn’t that high.” At her glare he gulped and rushed on, “Sorry. Taryn, it’s not bad to be viral. Really. You’re even cooler than kitten videos.”
Great. As if that helped. She was the YouTube flavor of the week and couldn’t do a darn thing about it.
The irony of the situation was not lost on her. She’d taken her share of videos of cheating spouses and other such nonsense, but that was business. This wasn’t the same. Was it?
“At least you weren’t naked,” Andrew said helpfully.
Instead of freaking out over the idea of a hundred thousand people watching her threaten Andrew, while he was sprawled in a bed of panties, she leaned back and rubbed her eyes. “There is that.” She didn’t try to hide her sarcasm. “Who took this?”
“I d-don’t know.”
“I have a gun.”
He paled, gingerly took the phone from her hand, and slid back a foot or so. Not enough for safety. He was still within reach, if she wanted to twist off his head.
“I can’t tell you, Taryn. It’s the bro code. We don’t rat on each other.”
Taryn knew several painful ways she could torture the information out of him. And thoroughly enjoy doing each. However, she liked Andrew and didn’t seriously want to kill him. Well, maybe a little. Still, the damage was already done. And like he said, she wasn’t naked. Still, she had to make sure this didn’t happen again. She didn’t want her neighbors spying on her for internet glory.
“Keep your secret then, Andrew. But I want you to go back over there to your fourteen bros and give them this message.” She leaned forward, her eyes taking on a wicked gleam. “If anyone ever takes a video or pictures of me again, while I’m on my property, I’ll make him very, very sorry.” She leaned forward and whispered. “I know people.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes went wide. “Okay.” He jumped up and scurried off.
Taryn shook her head as the door next door slammed shut behind him. There was only one thing worse than college kids with cell phone cameras and that was their need to take pictures and videos of everything and post them online.
She pulled out her phone and loaded up the video. There was nothing indicating her name, where she lived, or the city of origin. She wouldn’t have freaks chasing her around Ann Arbor. Well, hopefully not.
Standing, she forwarded the link on to Summer and Jess. They’d have a good laugh.
Once inside, she closed the curtains on Andrew’s side of the house. No sense taking chances.
Her cell beeped. A text.
Jess: New boyfriend?
Summer: He’s hot. Illustration
Jess: Nerdy young stud.
Summer: Easy to train.
Jess: Youthful stamina.
Summer: Good point.
Taryn: You 2 are hysterical.
Taryn put her things on the end table and headed for the stairs. She liked living alone, but the one thing she missed was having someone to come home to at the end of the day. Though she knew she could call her friends anytime and chat, it wasn’t the same as snuggling up to a partner and downloading her latest adventure. And tonight had been quite an adventure.
Rick. Her mind involuntarily went to him. She wondered if he gave good foot rubs with those strong hands.
The doorbell rang. “What now?” She was exhausted, had Rick’s blood under her fingernails, and needed a shower.
Walking to the door, she peered out the window and saw a bouquet of flowers obscuring a male head. The dim light from the porch made it difficult to figure out whose. Rick? Nope, not tall enough. Andrew? God, she hoped not.
She swung the door open. The flowers swung right. The bearer of the blooms was blond with bright blue eyes, thin, and appeared to be about twelve. It was probably the braces. Or the oversize blue suit that hung on bony shoulders.
“Can I help you?”
The kid grinned, flashing blue wires and a pair of rubber bands pulling the braces back from what was probably once a severe, and still lingering, overbite.
“Hi. These are for you.” He shoved what looked like a bronze urn stolen off a gravesite into her hands, slopping water over the rim and onto her sock-covered feet.
“Thank you?” What else could she say? She had nothing. “And you are?”
“Thurston Covington Weatherwax the Third.” He beamed. “Of the New York Weatherwaxes.”
“Um, okay.” She held out the urn to keep water and damp potting soil from dripping on her shirt. Suspecting where this was going, she sighed inwardly and wished she’d ignored the bell. What was with her and men with roman numerals after their names?
“Do I know you?”
“I hope so,” he said. He straightened up to an imposing five-six or so, just enough to look her in the eyes. “I brought you flowers with the hope that you’ll do me the honor of having dinner with me this Friday night?”
Dinner? What? Happy meals? This had to be a joke. She wouldn’t put it past Jess and Summer to set this up after hearing about her meeting with Andrew. She’d set them both up on blind dates that ended badly. This would be a perfect payback.
“Do your parents know you’re here?” She looked out for a waiting parental car parked at the curb. Nope. Nothing. “Are you sure you have the right house? How did you get here?” School bus?
“I live next door.”
No way. “You live with the college guys?”
“I am a college guy,” he said proudly. “And you are Taryn, so I’m at the right house.
Yep, this was a joke. She stepped out onto the porch and looked around for Jess or Summer. There was no sign of them. Uh-oh, this wasn’t a joke. “How old are you, Thurston?”
“Fourteen,” he said and puffed up his narrow chest. “But I’m mature for my age.”
Sigh. “Kid, you’ll have to mature another four years for a romance between us to not be a crime in most states, and two in Michigan.” She sat the urn on the porch next to a post. The flowers did dress up the peeling paint.
Thurston stepped closer, not at all put off by her comment about their age difference. “I’ll take the risk if you will.”
The cloying smell of an aftershave bath tickled her nose.
Outside of a clear case of boyish charm, and a puppy dog cuteness, it was impossible to find anything else in the youngster standing before her that would entice her to risk decades of incarceration in order to date a kid who couldn’t even drive. And that was the least disturbing of all the reasons not to date a fourteen-year-old.
Taryn needed a beer. Or six.
“How can you live off campus at your age?” she said, hoping to distract him from any further attempts to ask her out. “Are you old enough to leave home?”
He shrugged. “My brother, Byron, lives with me. He’s eighteen. I’m a genius, so I’m in college. What do you say? I have my mom’s credit card. We can tear up the town.”
Heartbreak was a lesson all youngsters would learn, but this was the first time she’d had to let down a boy under eighteen. It was his hopeful expression that tugged at her. Had she been born ten years later, she might have given him a chance. But she had panties older than him. And she enjoyed life outside of prison bars.
“Look, Thurston.” She gentled her tone. If she was going to flat-out reject the kid, she’d be gentle. “I appreciate the flowers and the invitation. I really do. But you are eleven years younger than me. I can’t date you.”
His face fell. Desperation replaced hope. “I’ll give you my Star Wars collectables if you say yes.”
Taryn bit back a smile. He was a charming kid. “Not even for that, buddy.”
“Darn.” He walked to the stairs, paused, and turned back. “You can keep the flowers.”
“Thank you, Thurston.” She watched him shuffle down the steps, along the sidewalk, and vanish into the house.
Taryn hoped this was the last of the crazies from next door.