The Boy Across The Street, page 15
I cried for weeks. And Dmitri cried along with me. And held me tight. And helped me through it. I guess we helped each other. He said I helped him. And that he loved me. I didn’t know what changed for him—what made him suddenly go from despising me to “loving” me. But I was grateful for it. Needed it. Even if it was a lie, I was grateful for it. Because I needed it at that time. That beautiful lie.
Okay, I know he blamed his horrible treatment of me on his mom. I get that—that she made him stay away from me with her depraved lie. But he had turned to Lola. He fell in love with her. That wasn’t an act. I know he loved her. So how could he possibly suddenly have the feelings he was claiming to have for me? I didn’t see how it could be true. One minute he loved Lola deeply, then the next me? I was pretty sure Foster made him promise to be this way to me, all gentle and loving and ‘I love you.’ And okay, before, when I was devastatedly grieving, I needed that. Needed to hold on to it—that act. The beautiful lie. But now it seems unfair to me. To hold on so tightly to something that isn’t true.
As I lay in bed tonight, I feel I’m finally brave enough to ask Dmitri about it. It’s late at night, and I can’t sleep, due to my growing feelings for Dmitri, and the despondent, desperate niggling in my brain that he is only being kind, and only using the glorious word “love” for Foster’s sake. Like Dmitri had taken a vow, a solemn oath, to his cousin that he would see me through my grief—any way necessary. But it isn’t fair to me. Because I’m really, truly falling desperately hard for Dmitri.
Though he’s probably asleep, I text Dmitri anyway, because it needs to be done, and at this moment, I feel strong enough, tomorrow I probably won’t. But it needs to be done. It has to be done. So, with trembling fingers, I text Dmitri determinedly, “Your words—that you love me—have been appreciated … but not believed. And I won’t appreciate them in the future, so please don’t say them anymore. Because I can’t believe them. You probably realize I wish I could, but even sappy ‘dreamy-eyed’ me can’t believe that you would suddenly fall in love with me conveniently right after you broke up with Lola.”
Only moments later there is a knock at my front door. I peek out my window, a little nervous, as, you know, Calvin. But it’s not Calvin. Dmitri knows my parents aren’t home tonight, he had assured me he would keep a “vigil” eye on my house. But here he is, at my front door. As soon as I open it, he says, “It’s not a sudden thing. I’ve always felt this way. I love you, Piper.”
I slam the door in his face. And lock it.
My heart not beating, I text, “Not appreciated!”
**
After I text Ally and Stormy about the incident—Dmitri showing up tonight at my front door with his love lines, aka: lies—Stormy tells me to watch the video of the Teen-Queen competition from the thumb-drive Jillian Fox had given me. I furrow my brow, then type: “Why?”
“Just watch it!” Stormy insists. “I watched it—since it was in your coat pocket while I was being Invisible-girl.”
She adds, “Dmitri filmed it, right?”
I stare at her words. “Yeah. So?”
“So watch it!”
With a sigh, I plug the thumb-drive into my computer. Then I sit curiously, watching as throughout the entire contest, the focus of the camera is on me. Always. The entire time. Even while his girlfriend was being interviewed, Dmitri’s focus kept going to me.
What the—??
Why would he do that? Over and over?
It was like—like he was in love with me.
Oh. My. Gosh!!
Quick as lightning, I hop out of my chair and run to Dmitri’s house. When Dmitri answers his door, he grunts. But his eyes are twinkling, like somehow he knew I would come.
Total deadpan he mumbles, “I told you that I loved you and you slammed the door in my face.”
But he says it around a wry smile that melts my heart almost as much as his words.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m sorry. At the time, I wasn’t aware you were telling the truth.”
With a tiny grin, he slightly cocks his head. “What changed your mind?”
“The video you shot of the competition. You love me.”
His grin twitches as he nods. “Yeah, that’s what I said—and then you slammed the door in my face.”
“Well, now I’m going to kiss you.”
He smiles as I grab him and kiss him. Hard. For hours.
… then we go and eat at The Pancake House and sit at “our table”—where we should have never left. Because we are in love. (I have the video to prove it.)
**##**
There is now more to the story in this book, so keep reading. It continues right after the following notes about the characters from this book. Piper’s friend Ally is from the author’s book HIS KISS; Summer Baker, the nice cheerleader/beauty-maker, who is denying her feelings for her ex-stepbrother, Mason, is from the author’s novel, LOUDER THAN WORDS; Piper’s friend Maddie, who accidentally broke her childhood friend’s heart and then he went on to write a brutal mega-hit about it and then comes back to town a famous rock-star, stars in the book: THE LOVE CONTEST; Piper’s friend, Stormy’s story continues in this book you are now reading, so keep reading.
NOTE: Other across the street books: YOUR SECRET CRUSH (AKA: ME) and THE LOVE CONTEST. (The Love Contest is about Piper’s friend Maddie whose childhood sweetheart got his heart broken by Maddie, making him move away to live with his dad, where he becomes a famous rock-star, due to writing mean songs about Maddie’s cold cruel heart … and then he moves back to town—super-duper famous, yet still singing about Maddie.)
*Summary of YOUR SECRET CRUSH (AKA: ME)
Seventeen-year-old Donovan Cold is known as the “Boy-Toy Tutor.” Because girls hire him to quote “tutor” them in school classes, but really they fantasize getting to play with the tantalizing toy (uh, I mean—boy). But to me, Donovan isn’t so much “The Boy-Toy” as “The Boy I Hate.” Passionately. (Hey, he hates me too.) But when we’re forced to pair up on a school project, he ends up helping me with way more than math, and actually seems to have a soul.… And he’s surprisingly tender…. And now starring in my dreams. Uh-oh. The only thing redeeming about the steamy situation is it’s getting my mind off my cheating ex-boyfriend. But now how do I get it off the Boy-Toy? That ends up being impossible when we end up living under the same roof. (Don’t ask.) He helps me fight off a stalker, but that sure doesn’t help me fight off my growing feelings for him. It’s demented…. I mentioned we hate each other, right?
*
The author’s most popular books are: Fall For Me; His Kiss; and Slumber Party Wars. (His Kiss stars Ally and Griffin Piper from this book.)
The author’s favorite book is: She’s Not Mine … But I Want Her.
All the author’s books are available in unlimited, or you can buy them the regular way. You need to use the author’s name when searching for her books. (She writes a lot of books.)
Check her website often, she is always writing new books.
Newest middle school books:
*Nicole’s Secret Admirer
*Nicole’s Love Curse
*The Nicole Wars
*Princess Wars
Summary of HIS KISS (starring Ally and Griffin Piper from this book)
Ally’s world was totally on track: the right boyfriend, the right school activities, the right plans. But then she is bribed into kissing the school “bad boy.” (Griffin Piper.) Now nothing is right. Nothing! Because all she can think about is … His Kiss.
**##**
And now on to Stormy’s story. (It was previously titled ‘The Tough Boy’s Tender Kiss.’) SUMMARY: The tough hockey player at school has it bad for sweet, shy Stormy. Can he show her that he can be sweet too?—tender even?
More Summary (from Stormy)
The (hot) tough hockey player at our high school left me a steak. A STEAK!! He also left a (bizarrely sweet) bewildering note with it. It said, “This is juicy and well-done … just like your performance tonight.” (Don’t get too excited about that, my “performance” was in the sad school play.) Later, he told me he was being romantic with the steak. He was only teasing, but he said, “What? I heard girls like food for gifts—I was being romantic.” Like I said, he was only teasing. Sadly, he’s ALWAYS teasing me. So it bites that I’m falling for the guy, but I am. Hard. Because he’s just the way I like my steak—hot, tender and delicious. Mmmm, the boy can kiss!
**STORMY**
I waited outside of detention for Walker. (I didn’t have detention, by the way.) I knew he would be there, though. Walker Storm is always in detention.
When he sees me standing outside the classroom door, I see a tiny grin creep on his gorgeous lips. Noticing that, my face ignites in flames. Because well—groan! We had an embarrassing moment together not too long ago. Well, two embarrassing moments actually. Each of them equally humiliating—for me. Which is why he’s grinning.
“Looking for me?” he asks, appearing pleased, yet not as though he really believes that I am. (Hey, I can barely believe it either—as much from him being a tough guy as from the two totally embarrassing incidents with him lately.)
I nod that I am—waiting for him, that is.
His eyes spark and his grin quirks, looking both puzzled, yet highly pleased. “Awesome,” he says. “Come to give me some more of your tasty tongue?”
I groan. “There was no tongue.”
He smiles, “Oh, there was tongue.”
“Not my tongue,” I correct.
He smirks. “In my dreams there was.”
My heart flutters. Big time. It’s disturbing, yet it does. It’s from hearing he dreams of our kiss too. But I try to calm my spastic (demented) heart down. I mean, for one thing he’s only kidding—obviously, since he’s tough and ultra-experienced, and I’m just this blushing, spaz-girl to him. For another thing—well, I already mentioned it—the tough and ultra-experienced thing. (That’s soo not my thing.)
I quickly change the subject, since this one is making me red—and stupid. “Look, I need a favor.”
He quirks a brow, since he’s already done me a favor—a huge one. And he’s not really the type of guy that does that—goes around doing favors. It’s more like he’s used to getting favors. I mentioned he’s tough, right? Well, he’s also gorgeous. So, guys do him favors because they are afraid of him; and girls do him favors because they are in awe of him.
Then there is me—I’m kind of both. I’m afraid of him, yet at the same time, I’m in awe of him. Especially after our kiss. Let me tell you—that was awe-worthy. And it was also the “favor” he did me. But I’ll get to that later. Maybe.
He grins. “I like your favors,” he says, sounding like: ‘I’m totally on board.’
I groan, majorly blushing. “I don’t mean kissing this time.”
“Aw,” he says.
He’s still only kidding. But this stuff gets to me. In a big way. An embarrassing way—since he’s only teasing and everything.
I try ignoring his flirting (it’s hard). Instead, I try to sound direct and business-like. “I need you to help my brother—Toby.”
Walker grins slightly. “Help him what?”
“Help him not get picked on. He said you rescued him from bullies the other day. I—I’d appreciate it if you would do that again—always. Like, at hockey practice and stuff.”
Walker is silent a moment, studying me with a smirk. Like he’s highly amused that I’m requesting another “favor” from him, yet at the same time intrigued by it. Like I said, people don’t expect favors from him. They do him favors—and he expects it. And he certainly doesn’t expect this—me to ask him for more. Ask him anything, actually. I never talk to the scary tough guy. Ever. So this is new. And unexpected.
“Okay,” he says at last. A mischievous smile twitches at the corners of his mouth, “I’ll do that for you. But then you have to go to a party with me.”
The air whooshes out of me. “I—I don’t—uh—I don’t go to high school parties.”
Brows rising, his beautiful lips quirk a tiny (totally sardonic) grin. It seems to say: ‘Well, I don’t defend annoying little twerps.’
Yeah, his smirk seems to say that—loud and clear. Then his grin slowly grows and he comes right out and says it—only more censored. “I don’t go around being a body-guard to kids that somewhat need their head bashed in—but I’m willing to do that. I’m willing to make an exception.” He raises his eyebrows. “Are you?”
I swallow. Well, gulp. Because I can’t go out with the guy. I CAN’T. Not to a wild hockey party … not anywhere.
I stammer out, “How about just doing it because you’re a decent guy?”
A quick grin spreads across his face. “You think I’m a decent guy?”
With a teasing smirk, he places a hand over his heart. “I’m flattered.”
His eyes flickering with amusement, he goes on with a playful grin, “Touched, even. Truly. So, okay. I won’t force you to go to a party—what with your smooth, flattering words and everything,” he adds amusedly, since they weren’t exactly smooth. Or flattering.
Still, though …
I blink. “You’ll do it?”
He nods. “I’ll do it.”
His grin quirks, “And you don’t have to go to a party and soil your sweet standards—or whatever stops you from going to a social gathering where you might run into people like me—who, by the way, you asked for a favor. But yes, I’ll do it. But,” he says, then leaves his sentence hanging on that one word: ‘But.’ His grin grows.
I hold my breath, waiting.
He seems to notice that—me holding my breath with dread. His eyes twinkle, highly entertained, as he drawls out his condition. His grin grows, brows rising, “But you have to kiss me again.”
My breath draws in sharply.
Curiously, his twinkling eyes take in my dramatic reaction as he goes on, “I liked the last one you planted on me quite a bit. Can’t get it out of my head, in fact.”
Me either.
CHAPTER 38
This is how it happened; how I ended up kissing Tough Guy, Walker Storm.
I’d been at a study group for my history class. It was at this girl, Claire’s house. Things were going okay I guess, though none of the stuck-up girls in the group were really what I’d consider “friends.” In fact, they were at best “frenemies.” But at least they weren’t right out “enemies.” So, there was that. And I needed the group at the moment because I’d missed a lot of days of the class, and wasn’t quite clear on—well, what the test was going to be on. So, I was grateful that they invited me to be part of their cliquey study group, and I didn’t even mind chipping in five bucks for the pizza they ordered, though I was low on funds and had already eaten.
Still, it was worth it to me.
But THEN, my ex-boyfriend, Brady, showed up at the study group.
I inwardly groaned when I saw him come through the door. Then outwardly groaned (loudly) when he smiled at me all friendly-like, saying: “Hi Stormy—glad to see you made it.”
He gave me a wink as he said it, letting me know he was the reason I’d suddenly been invited to the stuck-up clique’s study group. It wasn’t to ‘Get to know me better’ as Claire had told me (aka: lied) when she astonishingly invited me to the study session. No, of course not. It was because sneaky, conniving Brady was trying to wheedle his way back into my life. I should have known. No way would Clair and her snooty friends invite me on their own. They were too snooty for that.
The thing was: Brady was popular. Like, captain of the football team popular. And he was used to getting what he wanted. Right now, he was wanting to get me back as his girlfriend. But for once he wasn’t going to get his way. I mean, no way. The dude cheated on me. And he wasn’t really the world’s most awesome boyfriend before I discovered that fact anyway. But now—like I said: No way.
It baffled me why he even wanted to get back together so bad. I think it had more to do with his ego than anything else. I mean, surely he didn’t long for me. I mean, he’d had me—and then the jerk cheated on me. So that was just … baffling. And no. I wasn’t getting back together with the dog. No matter how many baffling schemes and manipulating stunts he pulled.
Seeing him enter Claire’s, and finally putting it all together—why I was finally being accepted and invited to Claire’s closed study group—I hopped up from my seat in disgust.
“I guess I’ll be leaving,” I growled, feeling tricked and betrayed. And embarrassed that I’d fallen for it.
“Aw, come on, stay Stormy,” Brady said. “Pizza has already been ordered, right? You chipped in five bucks.”
I squinted at him, astonished.
He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. I’d been keeping tabs on you. Claire kept me informed. I waited until you actually staked a reason to stay—pizza and cold hard cash: two true motivators for you, right Stormy?”
I grunted. “I’m willing to forgo them both to not be in the same room as you.”
He blocked my way as I tried to huff out of the house. “Just give it up, Stormy. You can’t fight me. I’m captain of the football team. Your social-life is literally in my hands. No guy is going to go near you knowing you’re still mine.”
“I’m not ‘still yours.’ I’m so incredibly not still yours that the thought is hilarious.”
“No, what is hilarious is that you’re even bothering to fight it. Like I said—you’re mine. Until I say otherwise, no guy will come near you.”
Unfortunately, that seems to be true. As he pointed out, he’s the football captain, and all the guys at our school are afraid of him. Still, I hated his smug smirk with a fiery passion and wished so bad I could knock it off. I guess that’s why I lied. But lie I did. It just spewed out of my mouth. “No guy will go near me, huh?” I shuddered my eyelids at him, like Oh pl-ease, dork! Then I informed him/lied my head off, “I already have a new boyfriend, Brady.”
Brady’s eyebrows rose, and a smirk soared across his smug lips—like he so totally didn’t believe me, and this sad flat-out lie amused him to no end.
Okay, I know he blamed his horrible treatment of me on his mom. I get that—that she made him stay away from me with her depraved lie. But he had turned to Lola. He fell in love with her. That wasn’t an act. I know he loved her. So how could he possibly suddenly have the feelings he was claiming to have for me? I didn’t see how it could be true. One minute he loved Lola deeply, then the next me? I was pretty sure Foster made him promise to be this way to me, all gentle and loving and ‘I love you.’ And okay, before, when I was devastatedly grieving, I needed that. Needed to hold on to it—that act. The beautiful lie. But now it seems unfair to me. To hold on so tightly to something that isn’t true.
As I lay in bed tonight, I feel I’m finally brave enough to ask Dmitri about it. It’s late at night, and I can’t sleep, due to my growing feelings for Dmitri, and the despondent, desperate niggling in my brain that he is only being kind, and only using the glorious word “love” for Foster’s sake. Like Dmitri had taken a vow, a solemn oath, to his cousin that he would see me through my grief—any way necessary. But it isn’t fair to me. Because I’m really, truly falling desperately hard for Dmitri.
Though he’s probably asleep, I text Dmitri anyway, because it needs to be done, and at this moment, I feel strong enough, tomorrow I probably won’t. But it needs to be done. It has to be done. So, with trembling fingers, I text Dmitri determinedly, “Your words—that you love me—have been appreciated … but not believed. And I won’t appreciate them in the future, so please don’t say them anymore. Because I can’t believe them. You probably realize I wish I could, but even sappy ‘dreamy-eyed’ me can’t believe that you would suddenly fall in love with me conveniently right after you broke up with Lola.”
Only moments later there is a knock at my front door. I peek out my window, a little nervous, as, you know, Calvin. But it’s not Calvin. Dmitri knows my parents aren’t home tonight, he had assured me he would keep a “vigil” eye on my house. But here he is, at my front door. As soon as I open it, he says, “It’s not a sudden thing. I’ve always felt this way. I love you, Piper.”
I slam the door in his face. And lock it.
My heart not beating, I text, “Not appreciated!”
**
After I text Ally and Stormy about the incident—Dmitri showing up tonight at my front door with his love lines, aka: lies—Stormy tells me to watch the video of the Teen-Queen competition from the thumb-drive Jillian Fox had given me. I furrow my brow, then type: “Why?”
“Just watch it!” Stormy insists. “I watched it—since it was in your coat pocket while I was being Invisible-girl.”
She adds, “Dmitri filmed it, right?”
I stare at her words. “Yeah. So?”
“So watch it!”
With a sigh, I plug the thumb-drive into my computer. Then I sit curiously, watching as throughout the entire contest, the focus of the camera is on me. Always. The entire time. Even while his girlfriend was being interviewed, Dmitri’s focus kept going to me.
What the—??
Why would he do that? Over and over?
It was like—like he was in love with me.
Oh. My. Gosh!!
Quick as lightning, I hop out of my chair and run to Dmitri’s house. When Dmitri answers his door, he grunts. But his eyes are twinkling, like somehow he knew I would come.
Total deadpan he mumbles, “I told you that I loved you and you slammed the door in my face.”
But he says it around a wry smile that melts my heart almost as much as his words.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m sorry. At the time, I wasn’t aware you were telling the truth.”
With a tiny grin, he slightly cocks his head. “What changed your mind?”
“The video you shot of the competition. You love me.”
His grin twitches as he nods. “Yeah, that’s what I said—and then you slammed the door in my face.”
“Well, now I’m going to kiss you.”
He smiles as I grab him and kiss him. Hard. For hours.
… then we go and eat at The Pancake House and sit at “our table”—where we should have never left. Because we are in love. (I have the video to prove it.)
**##**
There is now more to the story in this book, so keep reading. It continues right after the following notes about the characters from this book. Piper’s friend Ally is from the author’s book HIS KISS; Summer Baker, the nice cheerleader/beauty-maker, who is denying her feelings for her ex-stepbrother, Mason, is from the author’s novel, LOUDER THAN WORDS; Piper’s friend Maddie, who accidentally broke her childhood friend’s heart and then he went on to write a brutal mega-hit about it and then comes back to town a famous rock-star, stars in the book: THE LOVE CONTEST; Piper’s friend, Stormy’s story continues in this book you are now reading, so keep reading.
NOTE: Other across the street books: YOUR SECRET CRUSH (AKA: ME) and THE LOVE CONTEST. (The Love Contest is about Piper’s friend Maddie whose childhood sweetheart got his heart broken by Maddie, making him move away to live with his dad, where he becomes a famous rock-star, due to writing mean songs about Maddie’s cold cruel heart … and then he moves back to town—super-duper famous, yet still singing about Maddie.)
*Summary of YOUR SECRET CRUSH (AKA: ME)
Seventeen-year-old Donovan Cold is known as the “Boy-Toy Tutor.” Because girls hire him to quote “tutor” them in school classes, but really they fantasize getting to play with the tantalizing toy (uh, I mean—boy). But to me, Donovan isn’t so much “The Boy-Toy” as “The Boy I Hate.” Passionately. (Hey, he hates me too.) But when we’re forced to pair up on a school project, he ends up helping me with way more than math, and actually seems to have a soul.… And he’s surprisingly tender…. And now starring in my dreams. Uh-oh. The only thing redeeming about the steamy situation is it’s getting my mind off my cheating ex-boyfriend. But now how do I get it off the Boy-Toy? That ends up being impossible when we end up living under the same roof. (Don’t ask.) He helps me fight off a stalker, but that sure doesn’t help me fight off my growing feelings for him. It’s demented…. I mentioned we hate each other, right?
*
The author’s most popular books are: Fall For Me; His Kiss; and Slumber Party Wars. (His Kiss stars Ally and Griffin Piper from this book.)
The author’s favorite book is: She’s Not Mine … But I Want Her.
All the author’s books are available in unlimited, or you can buy them the regular way. You need to use the author’s name when searching for her books. (She writes a lot of books.)
Check her website often, she is always writing new books.
Newest middle school books:
*Nicole’s Secret Admirer
*Nicole’s Love Curse
*The Nicole Wars
*Princess Wars
Summary of HIS KISS (starring Ally and Griffin Piper from this book)
Ally’s world was totally on track: the right boyfriend, the right school activities, the right plans. But then she is bribed into kissing the school “bad boy.” (Griffin Piper.) Now nothing is right. Nothing! Because all she can think about is … His Kiss.
**##**
And now on to Stormy’s story. (It was previously titled ‘The Tough Boy’s Tender Kiss.’) SUMMARY: The tough hockey player at school has it bad for sweet, shy Stormy. Can he show her that he can be sweet too?—tender even?
More Summary (from Stormy)
The (hot) tough hockey player at our high school left me a steak. A STEAK!! He also left a (bizarrely sweet) bewildering note with it. It said, “This is juicy and well-done … just like your performance tonight.” (Don’t get too excited about that, my “performance” was in the sad school play.) Later, he told me he was being romantic with the steak. He was only teasing, but he said, “What? I heard girls like food for gifts—I was being romantic.” Like I said, he was only teasing. Sadly, he’s ALWAYS teasing me. So it bites that I’m falling for the guy, but I am. Hard. Because he’s just the way I like my steak—hot, tender and delicious. Mmmm, the boy can kiss!
**STORMY**
I waited outside of detention for Walker. (I didn’t have detention, by the way.) I knew he would be there, though. Walker Storm is always in detention.
When he sees me standing outside the classroom door, I see a tiny grin creep on his gorgeous lips. Noticing that, my face ignites in flames. Because well—groan! We had an embarrassing moment together not too long ago. Well, two embarrassing moments actually. Each of them equally humiliating—for me. Which is why he’s grinning.
“Looking for me?” he asks, appearing pleased, yet not as though he really believes that I am. (Hey, I can barely believe it either—as much from him being a tough guy as from the two totally embarrassing incidents with him lately.)
I nod that I am—waiting for him, that is.
His eyes spark and his grin quirks, looking both puzzled, yet highly pleased. “Awesome,” he says. “Come to give me some more of your tasty tongue?”
I groan. “There was no tongue.”
He smiles, “Oh, there was tongue.”
“Not my tongue,” I correct.
He smirks. “In my dreams there was.”
My heart flutters. Big time. It’s disturbing, yet it does. It’s from hearing he dreams of our kiss too. But I try to calm my spastic (demented) heart down. I mean, for one thing he’s only kidding—obviously, since he’s tough and ultra-experienced, and I’m just this blushing, spaz-girl to him. For another thing—well, I already mentioned it—the tough and ultra-experienced thing. (That’s soo not my thing.)
I quickly change the subject, since this one is making me red—and stupid. “Look, I need a favor.”
He quirks a brow, since he’s already done me a favor—a huge one. And he’s not really the type of guy that does that—goes around doing favors. It’s more like he’s used to getting favors. I mentioned he’s tough, right? Well, he’s also gorgeous. So, guys do him favors because they are afraid of him; and girls do him favors because they are in awe of him.
Then there is me—I’m kind of both. I’m afraid of him, yet at the same time, I’m in awe of him. Especially after our kiss. Let me tell you—that was awe-worthy. And it was also the “favor” he did me. But I’ll get to that later. Maybe.
He grins. “I like your favors,” he says, sounding like: ‘I’m totally on board.’
I groan, majorly blushing. “I don’t mean kissing this time.”
“Aw,” he says.
He’s still only kidding. But this stuff gets to me. In a big way. An embarrassing way—since he’s only teasing and everything.
I try ignoring his flirting (it’s hard). Instead, I try to sound direct and business-like. “I need you to help my brother—Toby.”
Walker grins slightly. “Help him what?”
“Help him not get picked on. He said you rescued him from bullies the other day. I—I’d appreciate it if you would do that again—always. Like, at hockey practice and stuff.”
Walker is silent a moment, studying me with a smirk. Like he’s highly amused that I’m requesting another “favor” from him, yet at the same time intrigued by it. Like I said, people don’t expect favors from him. They do him favors—and he expects it. And he certainly doesn’t expect this—me to ask him for more. Ask him anything, actually. I never talk to the scary tough guy. Ever. So this is new. And unexpected.
“Okay,” he says at last. A mischievous smile twitches at the corners of his mouth, “I’ll do that for you. But then you have to go to a party with me.”
The air whooshes out of me. “I—I don’t—uh—I don’t go to high school parties.”
Brows rising, his beautiful lips quirk a tiny (totally sardonic) grin. It seems to say: ‘Well, I don’t defend annoying little twerps.’
Yeah, his smirk seems to say that—loud and clear. Then his grin slowly grows and he comes right out and says it—only more censored. “I don’t go around being a body-guard to kids that somewhat need their head bashed in—but I’m willing to do that. I’m willing to make an exception.” He raises his eyebrows. “Are you?”
I swallow. Well, gulp. Because I can’t go out with the guy. I CAN’T. Not to a wild hockey party … not anywhere.
I stammer out, “How about just doing it because you’re a decent guy?”
A quick grin spreads across his face. “You think I’m a decent guy?”
With a teasing smirk, he places a hand over his heart. “I’m flattered.”
His eyes flickering with amusement, he goes on with a playful grin, “Touched, even. Truly. So, okay. I won’t force you to go to a party—what with your smooth, flattering words and everything,” he adds amusedly, since they weren’t exactly smooth. Or flattering.
Still, though …
I blink. “You’ll do it?”
He nods. “I’ll do it.”
His grin quirks, “And you don’t have to go to a party and soil your sweet standards—or whatever stops you from going to a social gathering where you might run into people like me—who, by the way, you asked for a favor. But yes, I’ll do it. But,” he says, then leaves his sentence hanging on that one word: ‘But.’ His grin grows.
I hold my breath, waiting.
He seems to notice that—me holding my breath with dread. His eyes twinkle, highly entertained, as he drawls out his condition. His grin grows, brows rising, “But you have to kiss me again.”
My breath draws in sharply.
Curiously, his twinkling eyes take in my dramatic reaction as he goes on, “I liked the last one you planted on me quite a bit. Can’t get it out of my head, in fact.”
Me either.
CHAPTER 38
This is how it happened; how I ended up kissing Tough Guy, Walker Storm.
I’d been at a study group for my history class. It was at this girl, Claire’s house. Things were going okay I guess, though none of the stuck-up girls in the group were really what I’d consider “friends.” In fact, they were at best “frenemies.” But at least they weren’t right out “enemies.” So, there was that. And I needed the group at the moment because I’d missed a lot of days of the class, and wasn’t quite clear on—well, what the test was going to be on. So, I was grateful that they invited me to be part of their cliquey study group, and I didn’t even mind chipping in five bucks for the pizza they ordered, though I was low on funds and had already eaten.
Still, it was worth it to me.
But THEN, my ex-boyfriend, Brady, showed up at the study group.
I inwardly groaned when I saw him come through the door. Then outwardly groaned (loudly) when he smiled at me all friendly-like, saying: “Hi Stormy—glad to see you made it.”
He gave me a wink as he said it, letting me know he was the reason I’d suddenly been invited to the stuck-up clique’s study group. It wasn’t to ‘Get to know me better’ as Claire had told me (aka: lied) when she astonishingly invited me to the study session. No, of course not. It was because sneaky, conniving Brady was trying to wheedle his way back into my life. I should have known. No way would Clair and her snooty friends invite me on their own. They were too snooty for that.
The thing was: Brady was popular. Like, captain of the football team popular. And he was used to getting what he wanted. Right now, he was wanting to get me back as his girlfriend. But for once he wasn’t going to get his way. I mean, no way. The dude cheated on me. And he wasn’t really the world’s most awesome boyfriend before I discovered that fact anyway. But now—like I said: No way.
It baffled me why he even wanted to get back together so bad. I think it had more to do with his ego than anything else. I mean, surely he didn’t long for me. I mean, he’d had me—and then the jerk cheated on me. So that was just … baffling. And no. I wasn’t getting back together with the dog. No matter how many baffling schemes and manipulating stunts he pulled.
Seeing him enter Claire’s, and finally putting it all together—why I was finally being accepted and invited to Claire’s closed study group—I hopped up from my seat in disgust.
“I guess I’ll be leaving,” I growled, feeling tricked and betrayed. And embarrassed that I’d fallen for it.
“Aw, come on, stay Stormy,” Brady said. “Pizza has already been ordered, right? You chipped in five bucks.”
I squinted at him, astonished.
He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. I’d been keeping tabs on you. Claire kept me informed. I waited until you actually staked a reason to stay—pizza and cold hard cash: two true motivators for you, right Stormy?”
I grunted. “I’m willing to forgo them both to not be in the same room as you.”
He blocked my way as I tried to huff out of the house. “Just give it up, Stormy. You can’t fight me. I’m captain of the football team. Your social-life is literally in my hands. No guy is going to go near you knowing you’re still mine.”
“I’m not ‘still yours.’ I’m so incredibly not still yours that the thought is hilarious.”
“No, what is hilarious is that you’re even bothering to fight it. Like I said—you’re mine. Until I say otherwise, no guy will come near you.”
Unfortunately, that seems to be true. As he pointed out, he’s the football captain, and all the guys at our school are afraid of him. Still, I hated his smug smirk with a fiery passion and wished so bad I could knock it off. I guess that’s why I lied. But lie I did. It just spewed out of my mouth. “No guy will go near me, huh?” I shuddered my eyelids at him, like Oh pl-ease, dork! Then I informed him/lied my head off, “I already have a new boyfriend, Brady.”
Brady’s eyebrows rose, and a smirk soared across his smug lips—like he so totally didn’t believe me, and this sad flat-out lie amused him to no end.
