Beware of Bad Boy(17)

“Now, you get in your Jeep and follow me in my car.” He was already walking down the street towards where his Camaro was parked under a streetlamp.

“Follow you home?” I called out after him.

“Nope,” was his infuriating reply before he got into his car.

I hated him!

We drove only fifteen minutes when he pulled into a parking garage. I followed him to where he parked and he hopped out to indicate I was to park in the spot next to him. Rolling down my window, I let him see how unhappy I was with him. “Where are we?”

“We’re near my mom’s apartment,” he answered, making me feel better.

“Why are we going there?” I asked, wondering if his mom would be pissed for us showing up so late. Scott’s ex-wife had always been some shadowy figure that I assumed disliked my family just like her son.

“Sleepover.” He winked, opening my door and taking my hand. “Come on, it’s only a block down.” Urban living was weird to have to park your car so far from your front door must be a pain.

I squeezed his hand as hard as I could as we exited the parking garage. He threw me an incredulous smile. “Are you trying to hurt my hand?”

“Yup, did it work?” I returned his grin with a hopeful one.

He started laughing at me. “Sorry, princess, you just aren’t strong enough.”

We reached a building with glass doors where he punched in a code. “Won’t your mom mind?”

“Nope, she’s at her friend’s art show in Phoenix.” We went up the elevator to the seventh floor where Caleb led me to an apartment door to the right.

Upon entering, I stopped in the entryway as he locked up. “What does your mom do for a living?”

“Interior design, plus she sells her paintings on the side.”

I could totally see her being an artist and interior designer from the looks of the place. While being homey, at the same time the place screamed style. Not a pretentious, elegant type of style. The kind of style that was cool without trying. It figured, with her being Caleb’s mom, he must’ve got it from somewhere. Not that I’d ever utter that compliment. The apartment was larger than I thought it’d be. The paintings hanging on the walls were interesting and I wondered which ones, if any, were his mom’s.

I pulled my eyes away from a painting of the Denver Skyline at sunset. Caleb stood in the middle of the sitting area, hands in pockets, watching me. “Caleb, what do you want from me? Are you doing this just to annoy me?”

“Maybe I don’t want anything from you. Maybe I want to do something for you,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“I don’t believe you. You’re too selfish of a person. You do whatever you want, no matter the consequences.”

“And you don’t do enough of what you want,” he responded. “I’ve watched you this past week. You do what everyone else expects of you even if it makes you miserable.”

“That’s none of your business.”

He ignored my totally true statement. “Why are you a cheerleader?”

“Because my mom wants me to,” I answered honestly, not in the least embarrassed. It was normal to try to please your parents. If Caleb did the same thing he’d be in less trouble all the time.

“Why do you hang out with the girls you do at school?” he asked, looking intently at my face.

“Because they’re popular like me,” I said condescendingly, trying to make him feel like an idiot for asking me these questions.

He wasn’t deterred and continued his amateur psychoanalysis. “Why were you with Josh?”

I shrugged as if it were no big deal. “I’m a cheerleader, he’s on the football team and kept other guys from bugging me. My mom really likes him and he says he loves me.”

“Do you love him?”

“Does it matter?” I gave him a dirty look. “And, again, is it any of your business?”

He nodded thoughtfully as if he’d just come to some conclusion. “What do you really want in life?”

“Jeez, Caleb, pretty soon you’ll be switching from using psychology to philosophy on me.”

“Just answer.”

“I’m not really sure, I try not to think about things I can’t have.”

“Well, think about it. I’m taking you under my wing. You’ll do as I say and be much happier for it.” How magnanimous of him.

I rolled my eyes at his conceit. “Happy like you? Are you happy being a delinquent and a player?”

“Extremely,” he shared with a smartass grin.

“If I have to do this, change my life for the supposed better, then I say you do to,” I turned the tables on him.