Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl(21)

“What kind of stuff?” I ask as I park in front of her apartment. The sound of thudding music and the sight of empty liquor bottles on the steps cause me to immediately frown. “You want me to come inside for a while?” So I can find out what’s bothering you and so you don’t have to be alone at one of your mom’s parties.

She scrutinizes the smoke snaking out the open window of her apartment. “No … I’m fine. I just didn’t know she was having a party.” She fiddles with the hem of her shorts again. “I was trying to get a hold of her all day … I thought she was passed out drunk, but I guess we made it to the rebound stage already.” Heaving a sigh, she unfastens her seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She reaches for the door handle then pauses. “Unless you have other stuff to do. I can always just have Ari come over here and pick me up and we can tow my car. It should only take two people.”

“No way. Ari doesn’t get to take away doing my favorite thing.” I catch her wrist. “What’s with the mood dive?”

She tips her head downward, her long, brown hair veiling her face. “It’s nothing. I’m just really tired. With work and school and stuff, I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

“Willow,” I summon my best warning tone, “fess up the truth or pay the consequences.”

She peers over at me, restraining a smile. “You know, that used to work on me until I found out what your”—she makes an air quote with her free hand—“ ‘consequences’ were.”

“Hey, tickling can be a good form of punishment, especially when someone almost pees their pants.”

“I did that one time,” she argues, holding up a finger. “And that was after you tickled me for five minutes. Anyone would’ve lost bladder control in that situation.”

A cocky grin spreads across my lips. “Not me. And you want to know why?”

“No,” she answers, having heard it all before.

I brag, anyway, trying to get her to smile. “Because I’m not ticklish.”

“So you say.” Her eyes travel across my arms, my chest, my legs, and she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “But it’s never been proven, at least that I’ve seen.”

Fuck, what I wouldn’t give for her to look at me like that all the time.

“I’ll tell you what. If you come home with me and spend the night at my place, I’ll let you find out the real answer.”

“Aren’t we a little too old for sleepovers?”

“You just spent the night at my house last month.”

Wariness floods her eyes. “Yeah, but only because my car broke down, and I didn’t want to make you drive me home.”

“You used to stay at my house all the time to get away from this shit,” I remind her, nodding at the house. “What’s the difference now?”

She sucks in a shallow inhale. “The difference is, I’m starting to realize that this shit is just part of life, and I can’t escape it by running away for the night.”

With that, she climbs out of the car, slams the door shut, and rushes inside the apartment.

My lips part in shock. Never has Willow run away from me like that. Well, except for the time we kissed. Never mind running away into her house. It’s usually the opposite.

I rewind through everything I said, trying to figure out where I went wrong. All I can come up with is perhaps I pushed the whole flirting thing too far. I did mention her ass a lot, but seriously, it’s an incredibly hot ass.

I need to make sure she’s okay, that she’s not freaking out. Then I need to lie, lie, lie, lie and pretend I don’t like her so much it hurts.

I get out of the car, make my way up the path, and knock on the door. No one answers.

Figuring the music is too loud, I decide to walk in, but the door is locked. People laugh from inside, and the music is turned up more loudly as the front window slides shut.

Through the thin walls, I hear Willow’s mom shout at the top of her lungs, “Holy shit! Look at my daughter, everyone!” The request is followed by, “She’s turning into a little slut!”

“Just like her mama!” a male voice says.

Goddammit, I hate this place. I hate that Willow’s in there.

Fighting the urge to break down the door, I return to my car and send Willow a text.

Me: Just want to make sure you’re okay before I take off. Things sound pretty intense in there …

A couple of minutes tick by while I wait for her to respond. A few guys carrying beers and passing around a joint exit her place, a couple a few doors down are yelling at each other, and a woman is trying to sell herself to everyone who passes by. Everything about this area is sketchy, so when a brand spankin’ new Mercedes pulls into the parking lot, I have to question if perhaps it belongs to a drug lord. Then again, I’m sitting in my BMW. Perhaps the driver’s here to try to save someone they care about.