Both Grayson and Jaxon turn to him, but Grayson’s eyes stop short once they collide with mine. I hold his obnoxious stare while Daniel hugs the pillow on the back of the couch and continues speaking to them. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation just now. As much as I’d like to agree that Sky is the sluttiest virgin either of you have ever met, I feel the need to point out that this observation is completely inaccurate. You see, after I spent last night with her, she can’t really be considered a virgin anymore. So, maybe it’s not her virginity she’s attempting to hold on to by refusing to sleep with you, Grayson. It’s more than likely her dignity.”
Grayson is over the back of the couch and has Daniel pinned to the floor in a matter of seconds. I, being of somewhat sound mind, give Daniel the ten seconds he needs to reverse the situation before I interrupt. However, I’m disappointed in my lack of faith in Daniel because he has Grayson flipped over and on his back in less than five. He must have been working out while I was away.
I slowly stand up when I see Jaxon make his way to the front of the couch to assist Grayson. He grabs Daniel by the shoulder to pull him off Grayson, but I grab the back of Jaxon’s shirt and yank him until he’s seated on the couch. I step closer, just as Grayson delivers a punch to Daniel’s jaw. Daniel is about to return the swing, but I grab his arm and pull him up before he has the chance.
Over the years this has become a game to Daniel. He urges people on and counts on me to step in and put a stop to his fights before he gets f**ked up. Unfortunately, since I always seem to be in the background during these incidents, my name has become associated with all of the fights and his quick temper. In reality, I’ve only actually ever hit three people.
1) The a**hole who talked shit about Les.
2) Grayson.
3) My father.
And I only regret the last one.
People are rushing through the front door to get a glimpse of the action, but they’ll be disappointed, because I’m pushing Daniel out of the house before he can do or say anything else. The last thing I need right now is an excuse to fight Grayson. I’ve been back less than a week. I sure as hell don’t want to give my mother another reason to force me back to Austin.
Daniel is wiping blood from his lip and I’ve still got hold of his arm when we reach his car. He yanks his arm free and grabs the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to his mouth. “Dammit,” he says, pulling back the shirt to look at the blood. “Why do I keep instigating shit that risks f**king up this beautiful face of mine?” He grins and wipes the blood from his mouth for a second time.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” I say, laughing at how worried he always is about his looks. “You’re still prettier than me.”
Daniel grins. “Thanks, babe,” he says teasingly.
Someone is walking up behind Daniel and for a second my fists clench, thinking it might be Grayson. I relax when I see it’s just the girl Daniel was referring to who was staring at him from the kitchen earlier. I don’t know why I relax, though, because this girl has a definite murderous look about her. Daniel is still wiping the blood from his mouth when she walks up beside him.
“Who the hell is Sky?”
Daniel snaps his head in her direction and his eyes grow wide with surprise. “Who? What the hell are you talking about, Val?”
She rolls her eyes and lifts her hand, pointing toward the house. “I heard you in there telling Grayson you screwed her last night!”
Daniel glances at the house, then back to Val, and it suddenly hits him. “No, Val!” Daniel says, walking forward and grabbing her hands. “No, no, no! He was talking shit and I was just trying to piss him off. I don’t even know the girl he was talking about. I swear—”
She’s walking away from him and he’s following after her, pleading with her to listen to him. I decide now is a good time to head home. I caught a ride here with Daniel, but it looks like he’ll be preoccupied for a while. I’m only four miles from my house so I text him and tell him I’m headed home, then start in that direction.
This entire night has reminded me of all the things I don’t want to be around. Drama. Testosterone. Grayson. Everything about high school in general, really. I’m supposed to fill out my transfer paperwork on Monday, but I honestly don’t know that I really want to go back. I know there are ways I can test out. There’s just no way in hell my mother would allow that to happen.
Chapter Six-and-a-half
Les,
Okay, so here goes.
Last week, our dear stepmother Pamela walked in on me and a girl. She wasn’t just any girl. Her name was Makenna and I’d been out with her a few times. She was cool but it was nothing serious and that’s all I’m going to say about that. But anyway, Pamela got home early and Makenna and I were sort of in a compromising position on the living room sofa. You remember the sofa that Pamela kept the plastic on for three years because she was too scared anyone would get stains on it?
Yeah. It wasn’t pretty.
Especially since Makenna and I had made our way into the living room after leaving a trail of clothing from the pool, down the hallway, and to the couch. So, not only were we both completely nak*d, but I had to walk down the hall and back outside to find my shorts and Makenna’s clothes. Pamela was screaming at me the entire way outside and the entire way back into the house and the entire way to Makenna’s car.
It embarrassed the hell out of Makenna and she kind of called things off with me after that. But that’s fine, because I have this cool tattoo now that says Hopeless (remember the nickname I gave you and Hope?) and it reminds me not to get too close to anyone, so I hadn’t allowed myself to develop any real feelings for her yet. It was really just about the sex.
I can’t believe I just said that to my own sister. Sorry.
Anyway, as you can guess, Dad was furious when he got home. He has one rule and one rule only in his house.
Don’t piss off Pamela.
I broke the rule. I broke it hard.
He actually tried to ground me, and I might have laughed a tiny bit when he said it. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, because you know that, as much as he disappointed me throughout the years, I still wouldn’t do something to outright disrespect him. But the fact that he tried to ground me four days after I turned eighteen just really struck a funny chord and dammit . . . I laughed.
He didn’t find it amusing at all and he was pissed. He started yelling at me, calling me disrespectful and ungrateful, and it pissed me off because I mean shit, Les. I’m eighteen! I’m a guy! Guys do shit like have sex with girls in their parents’ houses when they’re eighteen. But Christ if he didn’t act like I’d murdered someone! So, yeah. He pissed me off and I might have lost my temper.
But that’s not the bad part. The bad part happened after I yelled at him in return and he bowed up to me. He actually had the balls to bow up to me. Not that he’s bigger than me, but still. I’m his son and he bowed up to me like he wanted to fight me.
So what did I do?
I hit him.
I didn’t hit him very hard, but it was hard enough that it hurt him in the most sensitive spot possible. His pride.
He didn’t hit me back. He didn’t even yell at me. He just pulled his hand up to his jaw and he looked at me like he was disappointed, then he turned around and walked away. I left an hour later and drove back home. We haven’t spoken since.
I know I should probably call him and apologize, but didn’t he start it by bowing up to me? Just a little bit? What kind of dad does that to his own son?
But then again, what kind of son hits his own dad?
God, Les. I feel like shit. I never should have done it. I know I need to call him, but . . . I don’t know. Shit.
To my knowledge, he never even told Mom what happened. because she hasn’t mentioned it at all. She was surprised to see me back when I walked through the front door a few days ago. Happy, but surprised. She didn’t ask what prompted my return, so I didn’t volunteer the information. She seems different now. I can still see the heartache in her eyes, but it’s not as prominent as it was when I left last year. She actually smiles now, which is good.
Her happiness will be short-lived, though. It’s Monday and school started today. The first day of senior year. She left for work before I woke up. I actually had my alarm set and everything ready. I made it to school and did my morning workout, but all I could think about while I was running the track was how much I didn’t want to be there.
I don’t want to be there without you. I don’t want to face everything I hate about that school and the majority of the people in it.
So what did I do when I finished my run? I walked back to the parking lot, got into my car, drove home, and went back to sleep. Now it’s almost three o’clock in the afternoon and Mom will be home in a couple of hours. I’m about to head to the grocery store for a few things because I’ll be cooking her dinner tonight. I plan to break the news to her about my dropping out of school. I know she won’t be happy about my testing out, rather than getting a traditional diploma, so I put cookies on the grocery list, too. Women love cookies, right?
I can’t believe I’m not going back to school. I just never thought it would come to that. I’m blaming you for that one, too.
Chapter Seven
“Will that be all for you today?” the cashier asks.
I mentally run through the items on my list, ending with cookies. “Yep,” I say as I pull my wallet from my pocket to pay the cashier. I’m just relieved I got in and out without seeing anyone I know.
“Hey, Holder.”
Spoke too soon.
I glance up to see the cashier operating the line next to me, staring me down. She’s practically offering herself up on a platter with the way she’s looking at me. Whoever this girl is, her expression is begging for attention. I feel sort of bad for her, especially with the way her voice climbed into that annoying, high-pitched, why-do-girls-think-baby-talk-is-sexy range. I glance down at her nametag, because I honestly can’t place her face for the life of me.
“Hey . . . Shayla.” I give her a quick nod, then look back at my cashier, hoping my guarded response is enough to let her know that I’m not in the mood to feed her ego.
“It’s Shayna,” she snaps.
Oops.
I glance at her nametag again, disappointed that I’m giving her even more reason to keep talking. However, her nametag clearly reads Shayla. I want to laugh, but feel even more sympathy for her now. “Sorry. But you do realize your nametag says Shayla, right?”
She immediately flips the nametag up on her smock and frowns. I’m hoping this is embarrassing enough that she doesn’t look up at me again, but it doesn’t even faze her.
“When did you get back?” she asks.
I have no idea who this chick is, but she somehow knows me. Not only does she know me, but she knows I had to leave in order to come back. I sigh, disappointed that I still underestimate everyone’s penchant for gossip.
“Last week,” I say, offering up no further explanation.