Principal Mansfield interviewed us separately before calling our parents. Fighting was grounds for a three-day suspension, but we lived in football country and Kirk had taken our team to state since freshman year. There was a sharp curve on acceptable player behavior several months a year. He’d never be suspended during football season. Detention was doubtful, too. If detention kept Kirk from practice, there’d be hell to pay in the form of a football-dad mob and raging protests from the boosters. Parents ran small-town high schools with their wallets.
Kirk strode out of Principal Mansfield’s office first with a look of smug satisfaction. Liam went in next and left with his usual mask of complacency and annoyance, as if high school was too trivial to bother with and attending was a punishment. I went in last, explaining the situation as well as I could without giving away my bias or revealing Kirk’s hurtful words.
Principal Mansfield dialed my home and handed me the phone. The call woke Mom. She slept while I was at school. It took effort to convince her I was serious about being in trouble for a fight in the library between two guys. When I finished “explaining myself” as Principal Mansfield instructed, he spoke with her. I got detention, but Principal Mansfield got an earful from my mom. Her voice carried through the receiver, unintelligible to me, but audible. Mom was like that. Sensible. I’d had nothing to do with them attacking each other. Though, Liam had tried to defend me. Baffling. Maybe it wasn’t about me. Maybe he really didn’t like being called chap.
My newfound personality disorder carried me to detention with hope. It was hard to be too upset about three days of camaraderie with Liam. Detention was held in the largest room on the second floor, though this time of year it was missing the usual inhabitants: the football team. The room was quiet and nearly empty. Of the two dozen desks, less than half were occupied. Liam sat near the back of the room. I took the seat beside his. He didn’t look up from the open book on his desk.
The woodshop teacher sat up front, using his pocketknife to slice chunks off an apple. He sliced a piece loose, skewered it with the tip of his blade, and stuck it in his mouth, repeating the process with utter disinterest, until the apple was nothing but a core. I frowned. Outside of rural Ohio, metal detectors probably kept teachers from carrying knives, let alone brandishing them as cutlery. Snack gone, he used the knife to clean under his fingernails. I gagged.
I leaned across my desk toward Liam. “Can you believe Kirk got out of this?”
He turned a page in his notebook, making swift marks with his pen. One long arm lay over the desk between my eyes and his paper.
“Were your parents mad?”
His pen crawled to a stop. “No.” His solemn expression turned to frustration. He sat motionless for a long beat.
I waited with rapt attention as he chose the right words for whatever was on his mind. When he started writing again, I huffed.
I pulled Haunted Ohio from my bag and opened to the table of contents.
“Was your mom mad?” he asked.
Surprise jolted through me. I steadied my nerves a moment before I responded. Being near Liam put me on edge in a strangely exciting way.
“A little.”
“I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” he mumbled.
“You didn’t. She’s mad Principal Mansfield punished me. She’s big on taking responsibility for our actions, and she’s a dedicated feminist. Fighting over a girl is a hot button. Blaming the girl is like throwing gas on a fire.” I stopped. “Not that you were fighting over me.” I looked away, wishing for a rewind button.
“It was nice to be someone’s protector for a change.”
I didn’t look up when he spoke. He had been fighting over me. He’d admitted it, but what did he mean about being a protector for a change? As opposed to what? He seemed awfully, er large, to need a defender.
Liam’s voice was soft, almost inaudible. “I meant what I said about being friends.”
I struggled to put the syllables together. Friends? “I’d like that.” Very much. Too much. I smiled, looking his way again.
“You probably haven’t noticed, but I’m not always very sociable.” Liam squinted as he spoke, giving his chiseled face an awkward edge.
I mocked shock, shaping a little “o” with my lips and placing a palm over my chest. “No.”
His cheek lifted slightly into a perfect crooked smile. “It’s true.”
“Brand new information.” I gasped, drawing the shop teacher’s eyebrows into a warning frown. I leaned over my desk and pretended to read. When the teacher went back to cleaning his nails, I lowered my voice and turned to Liam.
“Where’d you learn to hit like that?”
He smiled, slowly turning his eyes on me. “I’m a boxer and I fence. Long arms come in handy, given the right occupation.”
I remembered his long, steady strokes in the pool and checked the clock. Twenty more minutes until we were back in the water. I wanted Liam’s friendship almost as much as I wanted to be his friend. Swimming posed a great opportunity for both.
Images of his strong arms wrapping me in an embrace replaced images of his fierce freestyle. I shut my eyes, thankful he couldn’t know my thoughts. What was going on with me? When I dared a look in his direction, he glanced away. He read for the rest of our detention and I laid my head on the desk, redirecting my thoughts. Liam was an enigma and I was hooked on the intrigue. One minute he built a wall around himself, warning people away, and the next he wanted a friend. Why me?
When detention ended, he didn’t move.
I arranged things unnecessarily in my book bag, stalling for time. “Are you swimming today?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. See ya.” I smiled, satisfied, and hurried to change.
The thrill of anticipation grew to combustion levels when I entered the pool area. I spoke with Coach, explaining about detention, then dove in and swam four laps before my mind got the best of me. My senses were on high alert. The smallest sound broke my concentration. My head popped up a dozen times, expecting Liam’s arrival.
An hour later, disappointment flattened me. Time to go home.
Coach didn’t bother telling me how bad my times were, and I didn’t ask. My head wasn’t in it. I’d fumbled every turn, missing the firm plant of my feet against the pool wall, shoving awkwardly and gliding slowly into each lap.
He clapped my shoulder as I toweled off. “Shake it off, Ingram. Everyone has a crap day sometime.”
On the equally slow walk home, I evaluated an endless list of reasons Liam would lie about swimming. I didn’t like any of my ideas because they all involved dodging me. His giant frame came into view the moment I turned onto our street. He sat on his front steps, flipping through envelopes. I was still thirty feet away when he saw me. My breath hitched and my feet moved more quickly over the crumbling sidewalk, stupidly in a hurry to talk with him.
His hair was darker, wet. His eyes were brilliant in the waning sunlight.
“Hey.” He stood as I approached. An easy smile spread over his lips.
“Where were you?” The words rushed over my tongue with more force than necessary. He didn’t owe me any explanation, but curiosity pushed me ahead. “You said you were swimming today.”
He ran a large hand over his tousled hair. “I did.”
“No,” I argued. “I did. You didn’t.”
His smile widened. Unless he had invisibility working for him, I’d have seen him in the pool.
“I swam here.” He turned at the waist, looked at his house, and then back at me.
“You don’t have a pool.”
“Inside.”
“You have an indoor pool?” My jaw dropped. I could swim three hundred and sixty-five days a year if I lived there. My gaze ran past him to the enormous manor at his back and goose flesh rose on my arms. “That’s what the semi-truck brought last week. I didn’t see it. I assumed a moving truck, not a water truck.”
“Twelve thousand gallons of salt water. Do you want to see the pool?” He wet his lips, a sudden look of unease lined his forehead.
My heart stopped. No. I didn’t want to go inside Hale Manor. Ever. Not even to see a pool. I blinked hard to erase images of his great-grandmother swinging from a rope over a grand staircase.
“Uhm.” I stalled.
Palpable tension built between us.
I didn’t want to decline his invitation, but I wasn’t ready to walk away. “Are you joining the swim team next month?”
“No.”
“No? Why not?” I moved closer, drawn in for no good reason.
He tapped the envelopes against his open palm, looking conflicted.
“I planned to swim while Oliver attended football practice. It seems he doesn’t need me for a ride home, so there’s no need for me to stay after school. Plus, I prefer salt water to chlorinated.”
“Oh.” I’d never swam in a salt water pool. My thoughts dove back to Liam on deck at my pool. “What does the symbol on your chest mean? How did it get there?” I pressed my lips together, barricading a deluge of questions. One at a time, Callie.
Shock crossed Liam’s face so briskly I almost missed it. He settled on his signature frown. “What do you mean?”
I huffed. It was bad enough I wanted to know. Worse that my traitorous mouth asked. Now I had to explain? Yes, I’d haunted his family’s cemetery and ogled his bare chest. I was a crazy person. Obviously.
“They look like scars, but aren’t. I recognize them from the…cemetery.” Gah! The final word stuck in my throat. Who spent time in cemeteries?
His cool green eyes searched my face. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Really? That was his plan? Pretend two dozen headstones didn’t exist? Never remove his shirt again? The last one was sad.
“Is it a family crest or something? Why’d you choose white ink? Is that a thing in Iceland?”
His frown deepened. “It’s not ink.”
“Is it a scar?” My voice hitched. Was I wrong? “Did someone do that to you? Did you do that to yourself?” I squinted. Was Liam a cutter? Abused? Part of a cult? Was it more painful to cut a scar into your body than go the traditional route? Was India ink in short supply where he was from? “Why are you glaring at me?”
His expression went flat. “I’m not glaring. I’m thinking.”
“Well, it looks mean.”
“I am mean, Callie.”
I shook my head and rerouted my questions. “Fine. What are you thinking?”
“I don’t understand how you saw the marks.” Curiosity replaced his “thinking face.”
“At the pool.” Heat climbed my cheeks to my hairline. “I noticed them when you got out of the water.” My gaze went to his shirt, locking on the section of fabric over the scars.
“Runes.”
“What?” I tore my focus away from his shirt.
“It’s Norse.” The cutting edge of his voice said he didn’t want to talk about it.
The tenacity in my core said I now had enough information to ask Google what I’d wanted to know for a decade.
I examined the sidewalk, noting tiny gravel at my feet and Liam’s excruciating nearness. Definitely time to take my leave and hit the Internet. His shadow covered me, blocking out the setting sun at his back. He inched closer.
“Callie?” He dropped the mail onto the step where he’d been when I found him.
I pulled in a breath and met his gaze with interest. The seriousness on his face intimidated me, but not enough to look away. Every moment spent with Liam stung with the possibility he’d turn to vapor and disappear. As if he somehow wasn’t real. I suppressed an urge to poke his chest with my finger.
His lips parted and I wanted him to kiss me so much my ears rang. Something was definitely wrong with me. I blinked and shook my head hard. I knew better than to get attached to pretty faces, strangers, and brooding guys who live in haunted manors. Three strikes for Liam.
He cleared his throat, looking away momentarily. My thoughts snapped back to the present as he blew out a slow breath that teased my senses. “I don’t date. As a general rule, I mean. I’ve had some trouble in the past I don’t want to repeat.”
“Oh.” It was a strange thing to announce, but my heart squeezed at the notion.
“It’s not you.”
I groaned and stepped around him.
He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, snapping my arm back. “Callie, wait.”
Reluctantly, I turned. My name sounded powerful on his tongue, in his tenor, his accent. He gave it life. Liam didn’t release his gentle hold on me. He stepped forward.
“I think you’re smart, funny, beautiful, intriguing.” He released another breath and rubbed the top of his head with his free hand. “I’m not in a good place, and I don’t want to ask anyone to join me here. Does that make any sense?”
“Sure.” No. Not at all. Didn’t matter. I didn’t know anything about Liam. The fierce attraction was clearly a result of stress and sleep deprivation. I had worse problems than him not dating, like the sudden onset of lame romantic fantasies, three days of detention, and analyzing why people thought I was short tempered.
“You don’t see,” he muttered almost imperceptibly. Green eyes flicked to mine, pleading silently. “If I could date, I would date you.”
“Nothing’s wrong with your confidence.” I kept my voice light and breezy. “Really. It’s fine.”
“You don’t believe me.” Liam slid his palm down to rub the back of his neck.
Ropes of muscles lined his forearms, twitching beneath the skin as he turned his wrist, loosening his grip and intertwining our fingers. My hand looked like a child’s in his. Our palms pressed together and my heart took off at a runner’s pace. Apparently Icelandic guys were more forward than ones from Ohio. He lifted my chin with steady fingers, redirecting my focus to those soulful eyes. His clenching jaw relaxed and his gaze drifted over my face, resting briefly on my lips. In that moment, I imagined a soft glow to the green of his eyes.
I stared, helplessly captivated. Did he plan to kiss me? Oh, he was definitely not from Ohio. I stepped back, pulling my hand free. “Boundaries. Personal space. Grumpy face.” I swallowed, waiting statue still for what would come next.
“What?”
“Things you can work on. If you want.”
He lifted remorseful eyes to meet mine. “I shouldn’t have touched you without asking.” His small apologetic smile warmed me. I hated to think of how the situation would’ve ended if he’d touched me more. My personality was on the fritz. I might’ve launched myself at him. Liam Hale was going to kiss me on the street where anyone might see. What would that be like? A thrill ran through me. Not smart. I mentally kicked myself. He didn’t date, but he did hold hands and give great compliments. I filed the newest conundrum away for later. Liam maintained his too-near stance, head dipped in my direction, held fast by an expression I didn’t understand. Concern? Curiosity? Regret?
A honking horn split the air around us and tires roared, barreling over the road behind me, scaring me half to death. Kirk’s massive blue truck rolled to a stop at the curb and Oliver jumped out, slapping fives to the other guys in the extended cab. Music poured out the open door before he shut it.
“Thanks, man.” Oliver’s smile was enormous, like he’d been to a party instead of football practice. “Hey, Liam.” He waved at us, completely unaffected by my presence or our nearness.
I stepped back and stopped short. Liam curved his fingers over mine and panic shot through me. Kirk glowered over the truck’s dashboard.
“Come here.” Liam’s voice was soft but firm, and I obeyed.
Oliver’s smile weakened as he took in the whole picture.
Kirk was out of his truck, rounding the hood toward us in long cocky strides. Liam tucked me under one long arm.
“What’s this?” Kirk motioned to our stance.
“Just being friendly.” Liam’s voice was congenial with an edge of menace I doubted Kirk picked up on. “Sorry about earlier. No hard feelings.”
Apparently confused by his manners, Kirk turned to me. “What the hell’s going on here, Callie? Are you dating this guy now?” Fury roared through his words.
“Liam doesn’t date.”
Oliver, Liam, and Kirk stared openly at me. I’d said the wrong thing. It was the first thing that came to mind.
“He liked the rumors.” Kirk laughed. “He went for you because he believed you’re easy. Don’t fall for him. You’re smarter than that.” He looked at Liam with an obnoxious smile. “Joke’s on you, dude. That’s the most you’ll get out of her.” He waved a palm at us. “Hope you like warm hugs and hand holding.”
Liam released me. Shame froze my face. I could only imagine the expression.
He stepped toward Kirk with authority. “You dated Callie for two years, yes?”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re through now, correct?”
My heart unfurled as I realized what was happening. Liam wasn’t ditching me. He’d put me behind him to confront Kirk. Again. As quickly as relief came, terror struck. If they fought now, we had no principal to break it up, and Kirk had three more oafs in his truck ready to back him. I looked to Oliver for help. His gaze darted between his brother and the truck full of jerks on the curb.
Kirk widened his stance. “Just ’cause I don’t want her, doesn’t mean you can have her.”
That was the whole story in a nutshell. If I wouldn’t be with him, he wouldn’t let me be with anyone else. The most ridiculous part of his psychopathic logic was Kirk had left me, not the other way around. Had he stayed faithful, I’d still be trying to make it work.
“Hmm.” Liam sounded thoughtful. “I think you’re wrong.”
One of the guys in the truck chuckled and Kirk’s jaw tightened again. The windows were rolled down now and the radio silent. Another audience to our standoff. Kirk’s hands balled and released at his sides. “You won’t date him.” He stared past Liam to me, issuing a direct order.
“Wrong again,” Liam informed him.
“I’m not dating anyone.” I glared between them. “You aren’t in a good place right now,” I told Liam, repeating his words to me, “And you are a giant horse’s ass. There’s nothing you can do or say to fix what you’ve already done. I’m past ‘us,’ and you should hurry up and get there too, Kirk. Also”—I widened my stance as fury coursed through me—“I am a full grown woman capable of making my own decisions, including who I will or won’t date and what I do or don’t do with them, so stop arguing over me like either of you get a say.”
Silence echoed on the street as I waited for an argument. The truck full of football players gawked. Oliver’s bemused expression sent a scorch of heat across my cheeks embarrassing me further. Liam and Kirk looked as if they’d only just realized I wasn’t a puppet or a child.
A black Town Car pulled into the long asphalt drive beside the mailbox. The driver side window powered down. A man wearing an argyle sweater and Clark Kent glasses slid an elbow over the window frame.
“Hello, boys. Your mother and I are ordering pizza tonight. What do you think? Are you hungry?” He looked over the small crowd and smiled. “Who’s staying for dinner?”
Without another word, Kirk climbed back behind the wheel of his truck and gunned the engine, glaring at me as he pulled away.
“Just us,” Liam answered the man in the car.
The man nodded and the car moved on, rolling out of sight in the long driveway beside the house. I battled a flurry of emotions as cool autumn winds blew dust and leaves around my ankles and into my frozen hair. My gut knotted. Nothing was resolved. Kirk wouldn’t leave this alone. I refused to be bossed. Liam had some rule about not dating. I had lost my grip on reality.
Oliver laughed sharply and marched up the steps to the front door, calling over one shoulder. “You had me going, man. I thought you were going to flatten him. Come inside and tell me what the hell that was all about. I’m starving.” He gave me a cursory smile before hauling the front door open and waiting with an expectant lift of his chin.
“In a minute.” Liam faced me, looking simultaneously sullen and livid.
Oliver closed the door behind him.
“Boxing seems a good fit for you. You have a bit of a temper,” I said.
He grinned. “Look at us, being hotheaded together.”
“Did you stop boxing because you moved?” The little dojo in town might have open ring time or whatever boxers called it. Liam might like it there. I’d definitely like to see him box.
“I stopped boxing because I’m very competitive. People get hurt.”
My thought train crashed. I looked to the empty driveway where the Town Car had rolled past. Was his family dangerous like the rumors claimed? Waning light shifted through rain clouds. Liam’s eyes gleamed, despite the fresh shadow over us.
“But…”
“I should go inside.” He watched me for a long beat before swiping the small stack of mail off the cement and taking the steps to the porch two at a time. “Callie?”
He paused, one hand on the door. “I’m keenly aware that you’re a full grown woman. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” My voice cracked on the single word as Liam disappeared through the door.
* * * *
Justin arrived ten minutes later. I’d texted him on my stunned walk home from Liam’s. The timing was impeccable. I’d dropped my book bag at the door and met Mom in the kitchen for a bowl of soup. She’d barely finished her tangent on teenage boys, self-control, and the irrefutable nineteen fifties mentality of small towns when the doorbell rang. Blaming a girl for boys fighting equated to someone blaming her because Dad cheated. Everything after that sounded sweary and came in murmurs.
“I’ll get it.” I set my bowl in the sink and opened the door to Justin’s brilliant smile. His dark lashes made long shadows on his cheeks. He’d changed into his favorite fitted T-shirt over a thermal long sleeve and stood with fingers shoved into his front pockets.
He touched my poofy air-dried hair with his fingertips, curling one crazy strand behind my ear. “You look like a shampoo commercial.”
I smiled back. “You look like Abercrombie.”
“Hello, Justin.” Mom cooed from behind me in the hallway. “How’s your mom?”
“Great, Mrs. Ingram. She said for you to stop by anytime. She owes you lunch.”
“That she does.” Mom smiled brightly.
I grabbed my coat. “I’m going to Justin’s. He’ll drive me to work. I’ll be home before you leave.” I kissed her cheek and ran for the mammoth off-road Jeep parked on the street before she could embarrass me. Given ten more seconds, she was sure to ask Justin about the brawling boys and his thoughts on our new neighbors. She could go on about this sort of feminine injustice without stopping for breath until she left for work.
Justin sauntered down the porch steps and slid behind the wheel, pulling away from the curb with subdued skill. Mom always watched until I was out of sight.
He checked the rearview before speaking and speeding. “You have so much to tell me, you little trouble maker. You’d better start now.” Justin adjusted the heater and the direction of the vents on his dash. He turned the stereo on and lowered the volume to background noise.
I sighed with no idea where to start. “What did you hear?”
“You were suspended.”
I shook my head. “Detention. Three days. I can still swim afterward.”
“Okay. I also heard Kirk beat Liam Hale’s ass in the school library for flirting with you.”
“No one was hurt. The whole thing was stupid. Kirk was acting like a jackass. Liam didn’t like it, so Kirk made a big show of his authority for the new kid’s benefit.” I grabbed the seat and staved another smile as we splashed over pothole puddles. “Unfortunately for Kirk, the new kid refuted said authority by punching him in the head.”
Justin slowed at the stoplight and flipped on his turn signal. His blue eyes widened. “You’re shittin’ me.”
“Nope.” I smiled, remembering this was Liam’s response to Kirk. “Kirk kept calling him chap. It was weird.”
“Yeah. That’s the weird part. Kirk’s going to get him back.” A smile changed Justin’s expression from merely impressed to pleased.
“Undoubtedly. He started with Liam again when he dropped Oliver off after football practice. I texted you right after he left.”
We rolled through town at a respectable rate then flew down empty country roads to Justin’s farm. Trees seemed to have bloomed overnight into an array of brassy colors. Green leaves no longer won the battle over crimson and gold. Years of use and heavy machinery had pitted and grooved the long gravel drive to the Maze Family Farm. Mr. Maze repacked and graveled it every spring. Combines, four-by-fours, and horse trailers took a toll on the old dirt road, probably etched out by settlers. I bounced happily beside Justin, enjoying the view and my company.
He stole looks at me as he drove. “Are you saying you were there, at Hale’s house after school? I feel like I’m missing something. You didn’t say if he was flirting with you in the library either.”
I bit my lip as Justin shifted the Jeep into park outside the stables. I didn’t want to hurt Justin’s feelings. He’d hinted at wanting more from our relationship. Telling him too much could hurt us both, especially if nothing came of my blooming infatuation with Liam. I’d hurt Justin for nothing. Even if I wasn’t interested in dating Justin, preserving his trust and respect were paramount.
My door popped open and Justin reached for my hand. He pulled me down to him and shut the door.
“On my way home from swim, Liam was at his mailbox on the sidewalk. I stopped as I passed by. We were talking when Kirk pulled up.”
Justin shook his head. “Man, this kid has some bad luck, drawing Kirk’s attention already. I hope he can fight because I can see Kirk dragging this mess out all year, especially since Hale lives next door to you now.”
“Liam’s a boxer.” I smiled, a little proud of something that had nothing to do with me.
Justin’s smiled faded. I could almost read his mind. How much time did she spend with Liam to learn something private about him? Not enough.
“He told me in detention,” I hedged.
“What else did he tell you?” Justin crossed wide muscled arms over his chest.
For a moment, I worried Liam had another enemy.
“He said he wouldn’t let Kirk talk to me the way he did in the library and he wasn’t upset about detention because he liked being the protector for a change.”
Justin’s shoulders fell. “He was flirting.” A statement.
“I don’t think so.” I didn’t. Liam seemed far too intense for something as lighthearted as flirting.
“You like him.” Another statement.
“Yeah.” I couldn’t lie. Lying served no one. Justin saw through me too easily. I hated myself instantly.
His jaw worked side to side. I waited as he mulled over my admission. Without comment, he took my hand and led me down a footpath through the field. Twilight lingered over the grasses, casting a purple haze across the sky like a bruise on heaven. A few fingers of smoke rose in the distance, peppering the air with burning leaves. We sat on a pile of hay bales outside the work shed at the bottom of the field, the way we had for years.
“It was a weird day.” I sighed.
Justin tipped my shoulder into his and left one arm around me. He tugged playfully at my hair flying in the wind. “When do you have to be at work?”
“Seven to nine then straight home for me. Mom works ten to six. I’ll have to study after she leaves.” Right after I researched Norse runes.
“You didn’t study in detention?” His fingers stilled. Long strands of brown hair whipped against them.
“Not enough.” Meaning, not at all, so not a total lie.
“You want to go inside? Are you cold?” Justin’s body radiated heat. I snuggled into my coat, enjoying the familiar after a day of bewildering and new.
“Nah.” My eyelids slid shut and my mouth popped open in a wide yawn.
“You’re going to miss this next year.” Justin pulled me closer. “Is it hard, knowing you’re leaving?”
“A little.” I’d given this years of thought. My friends had only believed me after I sent out the applications a few months ago, but I’d always known. I couldn’t stay. “You know how you know you’re meant to grow roots here, ride bulls, and raise horses? That’s how I feel about the water and it’s how I feel about leaving. I can’t explain it right, but I’ve always sensed my time here had an expiration date. Like someone turned over an hourglass when I was born. Stupid, right?”
“It’s weird you said hourglass, but no. I guess I’ve always known you were too good to be true. Too much to expect you’d stay here forever.”
“I’ll miss you.” I twisted in his arms for a better look at his face. “You’re my best friend. That doesn’t change. I don’t care if I don’t see you for months at a time. It won’t change. Plus, I’ll come home for holidays and summer breaks. Let’s do this every time I come home. Sit under the stars, hang out, and tell each other everything we missed.”
“Done. Have you heard back on any of the scholarships?”
“Not yet.” I twirled a loose thread around my fingertip. My GPA was strong. My swim times solid. The knot in my gut twisted. “I don’t want Dad’s help on this.”
“I know you don’t.” Justin sighed. “But don’t be so stubborn you miss your dream because those scholarships go to other students and you’re too proud to let your dad help. He owes you that. He’s your dad.”
“He’s a dick.”
“Still your dad. Still loves you. Won’t prove anything to anyone if you miss out because you’re hardheaded.”
I hated when he was reasonable and I wanted to be childish. “Bleh.”
He chuckled. “I’m having a bonfire Friday night. My folks are headed to Wheeling for the weekend. You want to come over?”
“Yeah.” Cocooned in my coat and Justin’s arm, every muscle relaxed. I hoped I’d make a good friend at college in the fall, wherever I ended up attending. Images from the Internet of campuses down the East Coast came to mind.
My eyes opened with a start. I’d dozed off. Worst. Feeling. Ever. Sometimes it happened in class and my head dropped forward, scaring me senseless.
“You okay?” Justin sounded alarmed.
“Yeah.” I smiled. I guessed a party invitation meant he wasn’t upset with me and that was all I needed.
“What about Friday night?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t miss your party.”
“Really? Cause falling asleep after I mention it seems like the opposite of enthusiasm.” He jostled me with his quiet laughter. “Can I pick you up?”
“Yes, please.” I blinked through a haze of dream-like images until reality swooped back in. I needed better sleep.
“You drinking?” Justin turned his head away as he asked. I wasn’t sure what to make of the action. He was normally an in-the-eyes kind of guy.
I usually carried the same bottle or cup all night for pretense. Dating a horny football player had kept me on guard, but I no longer had that problem and Justin knew it.
“Can I sleep over?”
“Ha!” Justin dragged me to his chest in a bear hug and laughed. “Sexy thing, you’re welcome in my room anytime.”
I pressed my cold nose to his neck and he put me back. “Then, yes. I’m drinking.”
“Damn.” He rubbed his neck, still smiling. “You’re cold. Let’s get you to work.” He wound an arm around my waist and turned me back toward the Jeep. We walked in slow companionable silence over the sloping hill and waving grasses. Justin held the door as I climbed inside. “You need coffee, too. It’s not like you to fall asleep at six. We’ll go in early and have a cup together.”
“Okay. I’ll tell my mom I’m staying at Allison’s on Friday. Did you invite her yet?”
“Not yet.” He climbed behind the wheel. “Is she working with you tonight?”
“Yep.”
“Well, alright. Things are working out all over the place.” He gave me a sly look. “Don’t get any ideas about drinking too much and having your way with me. I’m a gentleman.”
My cheeks scorched. Three days ago, I’d have reacted much differently to sleeping over at Justin’s. I’d have made plans to kiss him and hash out our feelings over a couple beers. I peeked at him, appreciating the view, but no longer anxious to know if he kissed like a cowboy or a rock star. Now I wanted to thank him for the chance to get my head right, maybe invite Liam to the party and see if he’d open up to me a little more.
Whatever happened to Liam before he’d moved to America couldn’t be worse than what Kirk had put me through. Could it?