Falling for a Bentley Page 9
“Since nothing happened. It’s my word against his. Promise me it goes no further than this room. Promise me, please, don’t make me regret telling you.”
“Tori needs to know what kind of a guy she’s dating.”
“No.” Keria’s tears wet the front of my shirt and I haul her closer, my arms tightening.
She tips her head back looking up at me. “There’s more.”
My body tenses. Oh shit. I don’t think I’m ready to hear more.
“Colton and I were fighting about it and Tori walked up. Later she asked me about it. I told her Colton had sold me some pills and we were fighting about me owing him money.”
“Wait,” I say, nauseous. “Did you buy drugs from Colton?”
“No, of course not. He’s not selling.”
No. He only goes around beating up on girls.
“So, you thought it would be better for her to think he’s selling drugs, then to know her boyfriend tried … dammit I can’t even say it.”
“Well, yeah. They’ve been dating for a year. She’s crazy about him! It would devastate her if she knew.”
“Maybe she doesn’t like him as much as you think.”
“Whatever. I know Tori. You don’t.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “Anyways, I’ve really been craving something to drink ever since it happened. I’m going to be just like her.”
“You mean like your mom?” She nods. “No guy is ever going to really care about me.”
It’s quiet, quiet for the longest time, where the only sound in the room is Keria sobbing. What do you do? What do you say? This girl is broken, begging for someone to give a damn.
“I care,” I murmur, stroking her blonde hair.
Insignificant
Tori
“Here, found this under the sofa cushion,” my mom says laying my cell on the kitchen counter. I stare at it over my glass of milk. She continues, “It’s really not like you to misplace your things… what’s got you behaving so scatter-brained lately?”
“Nothing. Everything is fine mom.”
“I hope all your day dreaming has nothing to do with that boy. What was his name, um…. help me out here?”
Sitting my glass down on the counter top with more force than necessary, my hands go to my hips, which is a reflection of her, so I drop them back to my side, clenching my fingers instead. It’s difficult to glare wearing pink pajamas with little bears on them, but I do my best. “Jonah. His name is Jonah.” I swipe my cell from the counter and hit the light switch. The room goes dark. Moonlight filters through the blinds over the kitchen sink lighting a path. She did not forget his name. I head for the door, mumbling under my breath.
“What did you say?” her words are stern, the tone a parent takes five seconds before they ground you.
“Nothing.” I square my shoulders, tilt my chin, refusing to let her get under my skin.
“Victoria, you know how I hate when you shut me out.”
“I said… you just want to make it known how insignificant he is by pretending you forgot his name.”
“Isn’t he?” She answers in that uppity tone I hate so much. “Insignificant?”
“Mom, don’t start.”
Just as I feared she follows me down the hall, up the stairs, and to my bedroom. She pauses in the doorway before striding in and bending, collecting all the clothes scattered on my floor. “I really wish you’d try to keep your room clean and please, don’t tell me you’re letting that boy mess with your head,” she sneers. “Did you not hear his mother? He has had no guidance what-so-ever.” I want to strangle her. I want to yell this is my space. She goes on, “Granted, I feel sorry for him, but not enough to hand him over my only daughter. You’d do well to stay with the one you’re with. Now Colton, he’s a keeper.”
Folding back my covers, I give her the face, you know, the you-are-being-ridiculous face.
“Victoria Rose Anderson, I’m not asking, I’m telling you… I don’t want a repeat of this past Sunday. Jonah is not welcome in this house.”
“Duly noted.” All tucked in I give the covers a couple of whacks, roll to my side, and wait to hear her footsteps retreating. My gaze is locked on my cell phone lying on the nightstand by the bed. After I’m certain she’s gone I reach for it. 12:05 a.m. Technically it is tomorrow.
Me: How’s today? I agree it would be best if I come to your house.
Taking a deep breath I push send, hoping he hasn’t forgot about asking if we could get together to work on our writing assignment.
Bleep. Bleep.
Stevens: I’ve already asked Jude to be my partner. Sorry.
I gasp. Jude!
Me: Are you talking about the immature guy who sits in the back of the room? Good Luck is all I can say.
Stevens: u seriously believed I would ask that asshole to be my partner? How about right after school?
Me: sounds good.
Stevens: do u still remember how to get here?
Me: if not… I’m sure I can ask my mother
Stevens: Haha yeah, I think I caught her locking the car doors when your dad turned into my neighborhood.
Me: for real?
Stevens: nah jk
Me: you suck!
Stevens: hey, watch it, cuteness.
Stevens: btw, what are you doing up so late?
Me: couldn’t sleep
Stevens: same here
Me: tomorrow then?
Stevens: can’t wait
Me: I think I might be able to sleep now. NightJ
Sermons
Jonah
For ten minutes I stare at her last message probably reading way too much into it.
I think I might be able to sleep now.
Did Victoria not being able to sleep have anything to do with me? Did her talking to me have anything to do with her now being able to sleep?
“Shit, get a grip.” I tap out a simple “night” and sending it. I turn off the lamp on the nightstand. The room is hot, too hot for the sweat pants I’m wearing. Kicking the sheets off I roll to my back, hook my hands behind my head, every part of me zinging with excitement.
“Victoria Anderson is coming to my house,” I say into the dark.
For an assignment, dumbass.
It doesn’t matter why she is coming, she just is. Then I’m hit with the reality that it’ll be the first time I’ve seen her since I found out, which means I’ll have to make a decision to tell or not to tell. I gave Keria my word. A guy doesn’t go back on his word.
The following day crawls by ridiculously slow. I’m on the edge of my desk all of my last class, leg bouncing in anticipation as I wait for the bell to ring. The clock on the class room wall ticks, the small hand barely moving. Home. Shower. Patrol my room for dirty socks and boxers. Beg my mom to not say anything remotely embarrassing, which means I’ll be asking her to basically not talk while Tori is there. Oh hell. What if my mom starts preaching?
“Come on bell. Ring.”
If I hurry I may have time to distract her.
Finally the bell rings and I dart for the door before any of the other students have time to block the aisles. Busting through the exit doors I take the front steps two at a time, making it half way across the sunny parking lot toward my truck when I hear my name being called. I keep going and pretend I don’t hear her.
“Jonah!” Keria continues to yell. “Wait! I need to ask you something?”
Realizing I’m not going to get away I stop, turn and frown.
“Ever thought of being on the track team?” she laughs, out of breath. She is wearing her cheerleading uniform: royal blue and white. It’s impossible not to glance down at the low cut top and short skirt, the sexy way it hangs on her narrow hips. “Seriously. You’re fast. I thought I’d never catch up with you. What’s the big hurry?”
“Homework,” I answer my gaze lifting to hers. It’s not a lie. It’s just homework with Tori. Something Keria doesn’t need to know about.
“Oh.” Her gaze narrows o
n my impatient expression. “You know, you always do that whenever you’re hiding something.”
“Do what?”
“Rub the muscles along the back of your neck. Not look me in the eye. Is something wrong? Are you mad at me?”
A short laugh comes out. “No. Why would I be mad at you?”
She nervously breaks eye contact. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
“No Keria. I passed Colton in the hallway and kept my anger in check. Happy?”
“You are mad.”
“Not mad … disappointed.”
“Thanks … for not telling.”
The more she stalls the more irritated I become.
“Is that it? I’m kind of in a hurry.” I nod at my truck a few feet away.
She scraps the soles her white tennis shoes over the pavement, kicks at a pebble. Her face is paler than usual, her frown lines deeper.
“Practice got cancelled last minute,” she says, giving me the doe eyes. “Can you give me a ride home?”
“Where’s your car?”
“Mom’s piece of crap car died again so she borrowed mine. Story of my life.”
I run through my options, the reason why I can’t take Keria home; really, I’ve got nothing but my own selfish reasons. Keria is a friend. She has shared things with me that she hasn’t share with anyone. Like how every person in her life has let her down. I don’t want to be one of those people.
“Yeah, okay, but I can’t stay.”
Her face lights up and she throws her arms around my neck, stands on her tiptoes pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. “You’re the best. What would I do without you?”
Fifteen minutes later my truck is parked in front of her house with the engine rumbling.
“I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” She says not giving any indication she’s going to actually get out of my truck this time.
“Okay. See you at school.” My right hand lays casually over the steering as my gaze slides to the passenger side door, which is hanging wide open. The last thing I want to be is rude, but she’s been staling for a good five minutes.
“Sure you don’t want to come in? My mom’s not here,” she asks.
At this I exhale and shake my head. “I’m sure. I need to get home.”
Catching me totally off guard she slides over, presses up against me. At first I think she’s going to kiss my cheek again, maybe that was even her plan in the beginning, but within the last few inches that brings her closer, so close I can smell her spearmint gum, she changes direction making the move toward my lips. The instant her mouth touches mine, my breath catches and my lips part, a knee jerk response. I’m a dumbass. I should have seen this coming.
“Stop,” I say against her warm lips, lips that are relentless and soft. Her kisses become desperate, needy. Her hands wonder up around my neck, finger laced over the back of my neck. For a second I get lost in way my body is responding to her.
This isn’t supposed to happen.
This is not what I want to happen. I panic, grabbing hold of her waist and forcibly siting her on her side of the truck. “Dammit Keria, I said stop!”
My mom would shit right now. ‘Jonah, you should always treat girls with respect.’
The way I just grabbed hold of Keria’s and the way I’m glaring at her, barely containing my anger and disappointment in her is not respectable, but do I have a choice? This is what it’s come to. “I’m not interested. How many times do I have to say it?”
“But…”
“No Keria, no buts.” I grab at that tense muscle popping along the back of my neck, release a long haggard breath. “It is virtually impossible to be your friend, isn’t it?”
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, I thought maybe … you know what ... forget it!” She leaps from the truck, slams the passenger side door, darting up the step to her house. All the windows are dark. Alone, that’s what Keria has to look forward to tonight, being absolutely alone, unless her selfish teenage-acting mother shows up plastered.
Shit! My forehead hits the steering wheel with a thud.
An hour later as I walk in the front door I hear:
“...the fire alarm was going off. Jonah had the hose from the sink aimed at my stove.”
“Sorry. Something came up after school,” I tell both my mom and Tori as I drop my truck keys on the small table by the door and slide off my shoes before walking over to the couch.
“It’s okay,” Tori says as I collapse down beside her on the couch. She grins across at my mother in the oversized chair. “Your mom was telling me about how you almost caught the house of fire.”
“Please stop with the embarrassing stories.” My cheeks and the top of my ears are burning. I shift uncomfortably beside Tori on the sofa.
Tori laughs. She is beautiful when she laughs. My mom catches me watching Tori and I quickly look away.
“It’s okay,” Tori says. “I love hearing your mom’s stories. They’re insightful.”
Oh she has no idea. My gaze drops to my mother’s lap, finding in it what I knew would be there. The Bible is laid open, balanced on her legs. I swallow hard, praying she doesn’t give a sermon.
“We should probably get started on our questionnaire,” I say, cutting Tori a sideways glance. I’m tossing her a life preserver, but she’s not reaching for it.
“What are you reading?” Tori asks my mother.
Victoria Anderson has no idea the flood gate she has opened.
“I’m reading from the book of Haggi.” Tori’s gives my mom a confused expression. My mother explains, “It’s in the Old Testament.” She goes right into reading straight from the bible like I knew she would. “Now this is what the LORD Almighty says—”
“We don’t really have time,” I make a sudden move to stand up. “Seriously. We need to get started on homework.”
Tori tugs on my arm, urging me to sit back down.
“I think we have time,” she says. “I would like it.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I mumble under my breath, covering my face with one of the throw pillows on the couch. Tori yanks the pillow away from my face, laughing.
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” I mumble. “Once she gets started there is no stopping her.”
My mother’s face lights up. “I promise not to take up too much of your study time.”
She reads:
Now this is what the LORD Almighty says: “Give careful thought to your ways. You have planted much, but have harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it.” (Haggai 5-6)
“Pretty powerful, isn’t it?” my mother says eyeing the two of us closely. Oh hell, here it comes. I shift beside Tori, uncomfortable. My mother can make you feel guilty with a look. Sometimes I wish she was normal, normal as in not always talking about God. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. Shit if she starts crying...
“I wish someone would have read this to me a couple of years ago when I wasn’t considering my ways,” she tells us. “Back then, I never thought there was a better way. An easier way. It wasn’t until I was shown there was a different way that my life truly changed. Wow! Powerful. Praise the Lord!”
“Okay. That’s enough. We really need to get to work.” I stand, hauling Victoria up off the couch with me. She slings her backpack over a shoulder, following me towards the hallway. She glances back at my mother, “Thanks for allowing me to come over, Charlotte.”
“You’re always welcome here, sweetie. Please ask your parents about the cookout.” My mother fluffs the pillows on the couch. “Oh, and Jonah… make sure you leave your bedroom door open.”
“Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me?” I snarl, horrified.
She holds up her index finger and thumb, leaving a little space between them. “Maybe, just a little.”
Lying Bastards
“Well, this is it.” He hesitates at the bedroom door.
“Your mothers really nice,” I say.
“Yeah. When she’s not preaching.”
I study his reaction to his mother. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it? Why? She didn’t make me uncomfortable if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“That’s because you’re nice,” he returns, smiling as he ushers me past the door to his room. “Not everyone responds to her the way you do. We actually have relatives who avoid us because of the way she is.”
“Wow. Can’t they see she just wants to help them?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Guess not.”
“The only person my mother ever helps is herself.” My eyes scan the room, nothing unusual: Kakahi colored walls. A twin bed with a tan comforter thrown up over a roll of pillows, the top of the comforter wrinkled. A desk and a dresser covered with stacks of books, binders, and coins, mostly copper pennies, and a pile of dirty clothes in a corner of the room.
He hooks a thumb in the back pocket of his jeans. “We should probably get started.”
I go to make some kind of movement not sure what direction I’m supposed to go in. The room is small. There’s not many options. “Where do you want to sit?”
He rubs at the muscle that runs along the back of his neck. “I could go get another chair from the kitchen and we could sit at the desk … computers there. Or we could sit on the bed.” He motions at the open door. “My mom will probably be coming in to check on us every ten minutes, so you don’t have to worry about me trying anything.”
“The bed is fine,” I return.
I kick off my shoes and climb up on his bed, sitting Indian style in the center and unzipping my backpack. “I think this assignment is a little stupid, especially since schools almost out. If he wanted us to get to know each other … he should have given us the assignment at the beginning of the class.”
“I agree.” He crashes down long ways across the foot of the bed, props his up head with an elbow, flipping through his binder with the other hand.
I drop my gaze to the open binder in my lap. “So how do you want to do this?”
He clears his throat, pulls out the piece of paper Mr. Brooks gave us and focuses all his attention on it, his brows pulling in. I’m pretty sure he is as uncomfortable as I am.