Trust(34)

Next thing I knew, morning light blinded my eyes.

"Edie? Hey, wake up."

"Hmm?" Squinting, I slowly woke.

Gentle fingers pushed the hair from my face, dreamy blue eyes gazing down. "Hey."

"'Morning," I said, not quite believing. But it really was. I'd slept. For hours and hours, with no waking up in a panic from freaky nightmares or bad dreams. Wow. I hadn't felt this rested in forever.

"I need my clothes," he said.

"Um. Okay. We'd better be quiet-don't want to wake Mom." I swallowed. "You don't look so good." 

"No. Probably not." He half attempted a smile.

I rolled out of bed, needing to put some space between me and the evidence of just how much the morning light adored John's skin. Last night, I'd undressed him. I'd put him in his current state of near nakedness. But last night, I'd been too upset by how hurt he was to appreciate the scenery. To feel the hot thrill of lust running through my veins.

All was quiet. I crept through the house on tippy-toes, grabbing his clothes before dashing back to my room. The near-naked boy had started flipping through my current book.

"Be careful," I said, exchanging his clothes for my book. "I don't like the pages getting creased."

"Sorry." He smiled, amused.

Jerk. "Where'd you park your car?"

"I walked here."

"You what?" I exclaimed, then slapped a hand over my too-loud mouth. "How long did that take?"

"What?"

I removed the hand and repeated the question.

He just shrugged, dragging his jeans on and doing up the zipper and button. Sweet baby Jesus. Over and over, like some soft-porn GIF, my mind replayed those ten seconds. I couldn't help it. Or didn't want to. Honestly, it was hard to tell exactly which. Forget bacon on pancakes covered in maple syrup; he made me drool.

For shame. There had to be a special level of hell for people who coveted their beat-up best friend. Though, how could I not have a crush on him? That was the question. Best for all involved if he hurried up and put his shirt on. Put me out of my misery.

Head cocked, he asked, "What's that look? What are you thinking about?"

"Canadian bacon."

He blinked. "I'll buy you breakfast."

"Pancakes at Awful Annie's?"

"Whatever you want."

"Okay, give me five to thirty minutes to quickly get ready."

I got busy rifling through my closet. Clean, neutral, happy thoughts. Not dwelling upon John's pants or what was in them or anything. Not wondering if besides drinking and getting into fights, he'd also used one of his willing naked-fun-time female acquaintances as a distraction from his brother's crap.

Actually, I didn't want to know.

Definitely a ripped black jeans sort of day. Doc sandals, black-and-white-striped tank, underwear, and we were all good. Clothes selected, I turned back to find him checking out my bookshelves.

"I'm not touching anything," he said, holding up his busted hands. "Promise."

"You can touch. Just be gentle."

Another of those secretly amused smiles. Just because he couldn't comprehend my true and enduring love of books. Douche canoe of a boy.

I rushed through a shower, dry-shampooing the crap out of my hair before chucking it up in a bun. Meh, whatever. Given the time constraints, basic makeup would do.

"You'd better go out the window, meet me down the block," I said, shoving the last of my necessary things into a bag. "Be careful. Don't hurt yourself further."

"I'll be fine." He crawled across my bed, careful to keep his still-dirty Converse off the quilt. Once he sat on the windowsill, he stopped, turning back. "Thanks for letting me in last night. For looking after me."

"Of course." Compliments always weirded me out. I couldn't meet his eyes, so I studied my feet. Yep, still ten toes, nails neatly painted black. Amazing. "You'd do it for me."

Because of the split lip, his grin was limited. "See you down the street."

The warmth in my heart lingering after he left, it went well beyond friendship. It felt dangerous.



       
         
       
        





The week progressed smoothly until after lunch on Wednesday. If ever a day had been created full of ill will, it would be Wednesday. It's like it just sat there in the middle of the week, taunting me with the two days of school yet to go before we'd reach the weekend.

Bastard.

Despite being unable to avoid my incredibly sexually attractive friend John since he and Anders had taken to sitting with us at lunch every day, things were okay. I'd been able to keep a lid on my feelings. Who knows, maybe denial and repression were good for the soul.

The bell for class rang, the hallways crowded with people. Chatter, laughter, all sorts of loud noises. Happily, none of it set off a panic attack. My freak-outs weren't coming on as often these days. I don't know if it was due to therapy or what, but I liked it a lot.

I stood at my locker, switching books, when someone touched my butt. Not a passing, possibly accidental sort of thing. No way, this was a full-on grab a handful of my flesh and give it a good, bruisingly hard squeeze. Followed by male laughter.

I spun, face no doubt full of surprise. "What the hell?"

"If it's good enough for John, hey?" the Neanderthal said. What he lacked in height he made up for in muscles. I think I recognized him from Chemistry. More laughing from his crew of equally athletic-looking idiot friends.

"Go fuck yourself," I said in my most eloquent voice. My hands balled into fists, I wanted to hit him so badly. It didn't matter that he was packing serious muscle. It no doubt wouldn't end well, but whatever. Pain, hospital, detention, suspension. They were all problems for some remote future. What mattered right now was payback, and replacing that smirk on his face with something a lot uglier.

The sudden thought of Mom intruded on my rush of anger. Her picking me up from the hospital. Again. Her disappointment as she related her conversation with the principal. Again.

My fists stayed by my side, knuckles white.

My fury just made them laugh harder. Hell, there were even some chuckles from others strolling past. Rage roared to life inside of me. If ever I'd had the urge to burn things down, it was then. He did not have the right to do that. To touch me however he wanted. Then to treat touching me, and my outrage at his doing so, like a joke.

No way. Not happening.

Maybe I couldn't break his nose without breaking my mother's heart, but I had other options. I just needed some time to think things through. Revenge would be mine.





As it turned out, I wasn't the only one who wound up in detention that afternoon. (I hadn't meant to almost doze off during Math again, honest.) I'd no sooner pulled out a book and pen when the Neanderthal himself slunk through the door. Holy shit. Bloody toilet paper filled both nostrils and his nose looked seriously swollen. Behind him came none other than John. 

Coincidence? Not so much.

Ever so calmly, he sat down at the desk beside me, pulling out a textbook.

"You didn't have to do that," I whispered.

"I know."

"I have things under control." A complete lie, though it made me feel better. Capable, even. "And didn't you tell me violence is not the answer?"

"Can't remember."

He hadn't wanted to get dragged into any of my drama at school. He'd definitely said that. And seeing how he'd given up dealing and was putting a real effort into studying, I understood. Besides, I didn't need him to defend me. I might not win every battle, but I was more than willing to fight for myself.

"I mean it, you shouldn't have." I leaned closer to him, talking quietly. "You said you're taking school seriously, cleaning up your act. Not adding to your record because of me, remember?"

"He won't touch you again."

"John."

"Relax," he said, flipping through the pages. "It's fine. You're making too big a deal out of this."

"Bullshit," I hissed. "Why is there one set of rules for you and another for me?"

"Because I never knew a girl I wanted to look after before."

That shut me up.

From the front of the classroom, the teacher watched us with a warning in his eyes. Apparently detention involved less catching up with your friends than I realized. No wonder I used to put more effort into avoiding it.

"We're talking about this later," I said.

One shoulder lifted, all nonchalant. "Sure. Whatever you want, Edie."

He slipped out at the end of detention before we could talk and I didn't get a chance to speak to him for the rest of the school week. He started spending every lunch on the basketball court with Anders, and was the last person to arrive at English and the first to leave. Jerk. Guess he didn't like being told what to do any better than I did.





"If he makes you cry, he's not worth it."

Hang winked at me, setting a pot of rice down on the dining room table. "I don't think he makes her cry, Mom."

"We really are just friends," I said.

"Of course you are." Hang smirked. "He's so unattractive, Mom. Edie couldn't possibly be interested in him. All those yucky muscles and cheekbones like a Rodin sculpture. Disgusting."