Bad Wolf(88)

"Here you go," Kayla says, turning my laptop to face me. "Doesn't it look awesome?"

She's showing me my brand new website, Amber's Gems, open on the page of the bracelets, featuring a few of the photos I took of my jewelry.

I nod, my mind elsewhere. I've seen the website, obsessed over every detail of it, in fact, since Tyler Grayson set it up for me, insisting he wanted no money from me. I tried telling him I'm not family-not one of the Inked Brotherhood and Co. or the Damage Boyz, but he smiled a secret smile and told me I'd soon be.

I wonder what he sees that I don't. I mean, I thought the psychic was Kayla, certainly not the tall, dark and brooding brother of Asher.

My few friends from Chicago saw the link to the website I posted all over the social media and went nuts. They promised to order stuff, and seeing their excitement is nice.

And that's all very well, but it's not what's been on my mind.

Jesse. Still processing what happened in his room, from his heated gaze on me, then his hands and mouth, his sure touch and the blinding pleasure-then my questions and his angry words. His angry, truthful words.

"Go back to your pretty world and leave me in mine."

Those words twist in my heart like knives. I may be naïve, but I know hurt when I see it. He was angry, but underneath there was pain. A lot of pain, and now I know why. I can hardly begin to comprehend the trauma he's been through, the helplessness, the lack of security and affection.

I wish I knew how to help him. My questions only serve to hurt him more, it seems, and his pain returns, hurting me, too.

Not good. Not good at all. Then why am I ready to chuck my jewelry box to the floor, walk out my door and go find him?

" … and here you should totally put a pic of you wearing some of your jewelry," Ev is saying, tapping on the laptop screen with her finger. "Amber, have you heard a word I've said? I swear, you're bobbing your head like that Chinese good luck cat that waves her paw at people."

"Chinese good luck cat that waves her paw at people?" Kayla blinks.                       
       
           



       

"You know. They have them in Asian restaurants." Ev waves a hand, her gaze glued on me, questioning. "Where did you go, Amber? Talk to us, girl."

"I bet she's boy-dreaming," Kayla says, and oh God, heat works its way up my neck, a wave of fire under my skin. "Ha, she is! Would you look at that blush."

No way to hide. Crap.

"Don't tell me it's Jesse again," Ev murmurs, leaning toward me, her face a picture of concern. My blush deepens, scorching my skin, and tears burn my eyes. "Amber … "

"I know." I put down my jewelry box, suddenly afraid I'll drop it as a big shudder goes through me. "You warned me."

"Shit, what did he do to you?" Ev scoots over the carpet and curls an arm around my shoulders, the flowery scent of her shampoo wrapping around me like a veil. "Bastard. He treats girls like his playthings, and I'm-"

"He didn't." I suck in a deep breath. "Didn't do anything. We disagreed on something, that's all."

"Yeah, right." Ev looks shocked, and Kayla unconvinced.

I should have expected that.

"Disagreed on him sleeping with you and dumping you the next day, sort of thing?" Kayla drawls.

I wince inwardly. "We haven't slept together."

"Technicalities." She waves a hand back and forth. "Going down on each other, doing it on the kitchen counter, on the carpet, in the car …  It counts."

"We didn't." I turn and find Ev giving me an incredulous look. "What? It's the truth."

"Am I to believe you and Jesse have been meeting-because I know you have, his roommate Gage told me-and haven't had hot bunny sex?"

I shrug. "Believe what you like. It's the truth."

"No sex, no kissing, no blowjobs, nada?"

I bite my lip and shift away from Ev, needing some space. "We kissed. Twice. And he did …  touch me. But that was all. I never touched him."

Not that way, anyway. And I wanted to, so much.

I'm vaguely aware of Kayla and Ev exchanging glances and lifting their brows.

"That's  …  very unlike Jesse Lee," Ev finally says, and I can't even begin to guess what she's thinking.

What does it matter? In any case, whatever it was we had-friendship? Was it that?-is over.

"I know what we need," Kayla says brightly and jumps to her feet. "Girls' night!"

"Didn't know we needed something," I grumble. The last thing I need is anything involving a social activity. "I'm fine."

"Wait and see." She runs out of my room to hers and returns with a pink kit. She plops back on my carpet and opens it, taking out a bunch of nail polish in all possible hues, even some I never imagined on my nails. "First, nail painting."

"But why?" I whine as Ev claps her hands and starts sorting through the colors. "Why do we need this?"

Truth is, I'd rather curl up on the sofa with chocolate ice cream and watch reruns of Teen Wolf episodes.

"War paint," Kayla declares, selecting a blue polish with tiny silver bits, like starbursts. "We're taking on the world."

"All I want is to forget about the world." Despite myself, though, I lean forward and snag a red-purple polish. "Not take it on."

"And then," Kayla goes on as if I haven't spoken, "we'll dress up and go out."

"No way." I shake my bottle at her. "I hate going out, and you know it. It's the last thing I'd do." I glance at Ev for support. "Tell her."

I sound like a three-year-old, and I honestly don't care. I don't deal well with stress, and I've had enough shit these past few days to last me a year.

"We could go to the movies," Ev says, and even as I open my mouth to say no, I reconsider. "Nothing tear-inducing, I promise. We'll find a comedy."

"And for that we need to paint our nails?" I give my polish a suspicious look.

"Trust me, girl." Kayla shakes hers before she starts painting her toenails. "It's important. I saw it in the tea leaves this morning."

Well then, if it was in the tea leaves …  Looks like it was inevitable.



After a couple of hours wasted on applying nail polish and dressing each other in crazy clothes-Kayla's, of course-and eating ice-cream straight from the carton, we stumble out of the apartment and make the twenty minute walk to the nearest movie theater. The comedy Ev chose isn't bad, either, and after laughing for an hour like a loon, I feel much better.                       
       
           



       

Well enough to forget about Jesse for a while, forget how I'd rather be spending time with him instead of watching a stupid movie about a millionaire who is in fact a secret agent in his spare time.

Can't help thinking of Jesse as a kid, forced to whore himself in order to live, and feel sick. Who cares about secret agents and millionaires when there are children on the streets with nobody to care for them?

It makes my heart ache for them. For him.

"Coming, Amber?" Kayla is tugging on my arm as we walk out of the movie theater.

"Where?"

She rolls her eyes with a small huff. "We're going to Halo. Where all the guys will be."

Ev says nothing, but I can see how much she wants to go. Micah will be there, for sure.

"You go." I give them my brightest, sincerest smile. "I had a great evening, honestly. I'll just head home. I'm tired."

Ev hesitates, but Kayla is already dragging her away.

"She'll be okay, Ev." She tugs on Ev's arm. "I have a good feeling about this. Come on."

"Good feeling about her going home alone?" Ev still turns to look at me. "Are you sure, Amber?"

"I'll be perfectly okay." I blow them a raspberry and start walking away from them to end the awkward moment. "Go have fun and tell me about it tomorrow."

I walk briskly toward the apartment, my hands in the pockets of my short jeans skirt, my purse bouncing against my side. My toe nails wink at me from my leather sandals, purple-red, and I shake my head and grin. Kayla and her girls' night …

Definitely not what I expected. I had fun. I can have fun without changing who I am …  like Jesse said. No need to suddenly turn into an extrovert, much less a party animal, to be happy.

Am I happy? Not sure. Also not sure why the question makes me think of Jesse-again. He's in my every thought.

And then he's right there, right in front of me, sitting on the steps of a random building.

Am I seeing things? I stop in my tracks, my breath caught in my chest. It has to be around midnight. Is it really him?

I take a few steps closer, until I'm standing at the entrance of the building. He's curled up on the dirty steps, arms folded over his chest. He's wearing his baseball cap backward, and his head is tipped to the side, resting on the wall.

It is him. His dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he rests, his chest rising and falling evenly.