So Toxic(Bad Boy Next Door Book 4)(10)

Something inside my chest tightens, clamping down on the excitement that wants to bubble there.

Whether or not he gives the hottest kisses, no bubbling anything.

Tyson Masters doesn’t get bubbles from me.

I roll my eyes. “I think I may have to move soon.”

Ty’s head pulls back, and his brow wrinkles with obvious confusion, quickly replaced by a blankness I haven’t witnessed since the tail-end of my senior year in high school.

A sense of remorse creeps up on me as my mind flash floods with memories—a prank gone bad. The bad boy who showed up to save my ass at the last second. Red and blue lights reflected off that exact expression as the cops cuffed him.

Stevie motions to the pile of cardboard containers. “So what’s up with all the boxes if no one’s moving?”

I bite my bottom lip and slowly retreat toward my front door.

If I’m subtle enough, they won’t even know I left.

Jake pushes his hands into his pockets and rocks onto his heels. “They’re full of dry goods and art supplies. I’m flying them down to Haiti for a couple of orphanages.”

I back my way into the house, shutting out their conversation as I lean against the closed door.

Raking in a shaky breath, I push away from the door. Then I head to my room—my newly rearranged room, where my bed sits on the wall farthest from the one I share with Ty.

I flop backward onto my bed and throw my forearm over my face.

The shorts I wore had belonged to my older foster-sister, Melanie. The one pair of pants that came to the Miller house with me was dirty. She didn’t want to loan her hand-me-downs to me, though they wouldn’t have fit her even if she’d tried to squeeze into them. They probably hadn’t fit her for a while, but her mother made her give them to me.

She sat on the front steps of the house staring. She’d been casting that same glare at me each time our gazes met since I showed up two days before.

I arranged myself on the edge of the concrete walkway, careful to not mess up the borrowed clothes. Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades as I opened the new spelling book I’d been assigned from my new teacher at my latest new school. The sun beat down on my head, heating my dark hair until my brow was also beaded with moisture.

Melanie guarded the shade of the wraparound porch like it was a special grade of some mysterious and rare, intangible gold. I smiled as I gave myself a virtual pat on the back at how I’d managed to use one of this week’s spelling words in my mental description of Melanie and her silly quest to make my life miserable. She thought she was showing me who was boss.

Humph. As if I haven’t been through this same thing countless times before I showed up on her doorstep.

She was thirteen and six times bigger, or so it seemed, making the opportunity to cool off a distant possibility, reserved for whenever she gave up trying to intimidate me for the day. Until then, I’d occupy my time studying so I could impress my newest mother, hoping to stay in her good graces which would mean less punishment and perhaps a hug or two—something ten-year-old me craved more than anything.

I focused on the words swimming across the page as sweat dripped into my eyes. I swiped my brow with my forearm. A sudden thunk on the top of my head jerked me from my thoughts. Jumping to my feet, I turned in a circle, gaze darting from the street to the sidewalk, searching for the culprit who used me for whack-a-mole practice.

The thumping of feet across the yard pulled my gaze from the porch, where Melanie laughed out loud. A boy in cowboy boots and cut-off jeans ran at me full speed. My eyes widened as he neared. My mind scattered and I wasn’t sure what to do when it seemed he’d run me over.

He stopped at the last second, his hands gripping my arms. “Hey, you should move when someone is coming at you. Don’t you know anything?”

My eyes narrowed. “I know people should watch where they’re going.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“No maybe.” I scowled as he snatched the soccer ball and tossed it into the air.

He effortlessly caught the ball without even looking at it. His grin was as quick as the sparkle in his gray eyes. “I’m Tyson Masters. You’re the new girl in my class—Joe-something-Something. You live here?”

I glanced at the old house, avoiding Melanie’s gaze. “For now, I guess. And my name is Josephina Jordan.”

Tyson nodded and put out his hand. “I was hoping they’d get a boy this time, but I guess you’ll do. Wanna play soccer?”

“Soccer?” My eyes strayed to the textbook lying on the grass. “Now?”

Tyson flipped the book closed with the toe of his tennis shoe. “Yeah. You know, we kick the ball? C’mon, it’ll be fun, JoJo.”