American Bad Boy(3)

“Of course.”

I suddenly realize that I have zero idea of what Joel’s plans are after graduation. I’ve talked to him almost every day this school year, but now that I think about it, I can’t recall any of the details he’s told me about his life. At all. A flash of guilt washes over me.

“Are you going to university?” I ask shyly. I can’t believe how self-centered I’ve been. My mind is struggling to come up with one thing I know about this guy other than the fact that he’s good at science and crushing on me hard. I’m coming up blank.

If he’s offended, it doesn’t show. “I did. I’ll be at Colorado U too. I got into the engineering program.”

“Oh, congrats.” I feel like a jerk for not knowing that. But not enough of a jerk to stop searching over his shoulder for my boyfriend. When I’ve rotated back around enough that Mack’s back in clear view, I can see he doesn’t look impressed.

Good. Serves him right for refusing to dance with me. I smile to myself.

Some just want everything

But everything means nothing

If I ain't got you, yeah.

I see Mack pushing his way through the tables and chairs until he’s no longer in view. The song is almost over and this time when I spot Mack he’s at the edge of the dance floor. The last note is being sung as he springs toward me like a tiger from the bushes.

“Thanks for the dance, Joel.” I smile and step back. I thud right into the human pillar that is my boyfriend. I feel his arms wrap around my body as he pulls me against him possessively.

“All right, you’ve made your point. Let’s get out of here.” he hisses in my ear.

Joel looks at me, then over my shoulder, smiling politely. “Thank you for the dance, Lauren. I’ll see you on campus next year.” He gives my hand a quick squeeze before dropping it back to my side. Before I even have a chance to respond, I’m being guided toward the exit with a sense of urgency.

I don’t bother looking back over my shoulder as we leave. There’s no point. My future is with Mack.

Scratch that.

My future is Mack. And nostalgia has no place in his plans.





2





Lauren





2004




“Where are we going?” I allow him to guide me through the front doors and into the night air. Instead of walking toward the valet parking, he tightens his grip on my hand and leads me down the side of the building behind the hedges.

Mack stops and turns around quickly, almost knocking me off balance. Luckily, his hand steadies me before I have a chance to twist an ankle in these heels. I don’t know why I ever let my sister, Chelsea, talk me into wearing them. I’m the kind of girl who practically gets vertigo from a quarter-inch heel on my flats.

I balked at the 6-inch heels she originally campaigned for. “I’m not a stripper! I’ll break my damned neck in those.” I pushed the crushed velvet shoes back into her arms. She wrinkled her nose at me and gave me that look she always gives me when she thinks I’m still acting like a baby. I hate that look. I hate it so much that I’m teetering on 4-inch heels on the lawn of the Colorado golf club, trying not to snap my ankles.

Thoughts of Chelsea’s “helpful" fashion choices flit away as soon as I look into Mack’s crystal blue eyes. Even now, after twelve years of looking into them, I’m unable to look away. That color, it unnerves me and soothes me at the same time. They’re like waves crashing against a Hawaiian beach, if you could only manage to stay on the sand and listen, you’d be captivated by their tranquility. But instead, you find yourself trying to surf them, obsessed with the idea of taming them, knowing full well the danger that lurks beneath.

He leans into me, his frame pressed up hard against mine, and I let out a small sigh. When his soft lips find mine, my eyelids flutter closed. The thudding bass from the dance hall is drowned out by my own heartbeat. When he steps back, it takes me a second to stop making a fishy face at the night air, my lips still desperately trying to kiss a ghost.

My eyes snap open and this time all I can see in Mack’s eyes is lust. I look over my shoulder, we’re barely ten feet away from the front door. These cedar hedges would’ve been an awesome fort hide out when we were kids, but they aren’t doing much to hide us as adults.

“Mack, if you think we’re gonna mess around here … there’s no way.” My voice is a strained whisper.

“Oh come on, Lauren. You think I’m gonna try something here?” He pretends to be offended.

I do, actually.

If I know anything about Mack, and I know a lot, it’s that he would try to have sex with me anywhere.