“He seems really mad,” I said. “Is he going to be okay?”
Brax pressed his stubbled jaw to mine, kissed me there. “Yeah. He better be.” He nuzzled me again, and a thrill shot through me. “All right, Sunshine. Let’s see what you can do.”
We hit balls for about an hour, and each time it was my turn Brax decided there was some new basebally secret move or stance or way to hold the bat he needed to show me. We both knew it was flirtatious fun; I wasn’t going to need this baseball knowledge for anything. But it was fun. More than fun. To have Brax’s body against mine, his five o’clock shadow scrubbing my neck, his lips teasing my ear?
He had me at swing batter-batter, swing!
We didn’t stay out too late; at my insistence. And although we grabbed a light supper at Hattie’s, Brax never brought up Kelsy or the parking lot incident or what Kelsy had meant by the words She’s not who you think she is, bro. And I was so glad. On one hand, I’d wanted to tell Brax everything. And, I almost did. I’m not sure even now what held me back. Humiliation? To be frank I was sick to damn death of humiliation.
I decided that I was going to tell him, but not now. Not this night. In the parking lot at Oliver Hall, he pulled up and parked my truck next to his bike. We got out, and Brax leaned me against the fender and kissed me. He cradled my head with his big hands, swept over my lips with his and moved over them in such a seductive way I started to sway. But when I slipped my hands around his neck, twisted my fingers through his soft curls and kissed him back? He groaned against my mouth, urged the kiss deeper, and swallowed my breath. I felt the rough cut on his lip with my tongue; he tasted my old scar. By the time we came up for air, we were both quivering.
He walked me to the door and slid the card for me, and pulled me against him, my cheek against his chest, his chin on the top of my head. “What are you doing to me, Gracie?” he said quietly.
I said nothing, but my only thought was whatever this is, I don’t ever want it to end. Somehow, I’d caved. My heart was invested. Brax meant something to me. And I prayed like crazy it was just as real to him.
Brax: Wake your ass up, Sunshine.
I grinned as I stared at his text. What a charmer.
Me: I’ve been up, Boston. I had celestial homework on the rooftop. What’s up?
Brax: I’m running late. Celestial you say? Sounds sexy. Meet u in class?
Me: Of course. Everything sounds sexy to you, weirdo. Last one there’s a rotten egg.
Brax: A dare? You’re on. But it’ll be worth more than eggs, sweetheart.
Me: We’ll see.
Brax: L8R beautiful.
Me: You’re crazy.
Brax: I know.
I set my phone down and glanced over at Tessa, still curled up in a ball on her side, buried in the covers. She’d come in late last night, long after Brax and I had said goodbye. “Tess? Are you okay?”
She turned her head and one eye cracked open as she peered through a mossy mass of tangled hair. She groaned. “I don’t feel so good, chica. I’m going to skip class.”
I stared and shook my head. “For shame. Can I get you anything?”
Tessa pulled the covers completely over her head. “Yeah. A hammer. Then you can bonk me on the head with it.”
I laughed lightly and continued getting ready for class. Steven had agreed to take my shift so I could go to Brax’s baseball game Saturday, and I’d taken his shift for tonight. Excitement coursed through me at watching Brax pitch. I could barely wait.
Pulling on a pair of jeans, a cami top and a three-quarter sleeved snap up shirt to wear over it, I hurriedly dressed, pulled on my All-Stars and grabbed my pack and bag. One final glance at Tessa’s huddled form beneath the covers, and I headed out. I hit the stairwell and jogged down to the first floor, but the second I entered the common room, I noticed quite a healthy amount of heads had turned my way. A little self-conscious, I wondered why they were all looking at me. Making my way to the front door, I stepped outside and noticed more students in the parking lot. As I walked, heads turned. What was going on?
“Hey, Olivia.” A hand reached for my arm, and I turned to find a girl named Becca from my astronomy class. In her expression I immediately saw pity. “Do you know who did it? Pretty lame.”
“Did what?”
She pointed. “Isn’t that your truck over there?”
I followed her gaze and pointed finger to where my truck was parked. Several people stood around it, holding their cell phones up. My feet started moving before my brain kicked in, and I started pushing my way through the gathered students toward it. With my heart in my throat, I finally got close enough to see what the fuss was all about. White letters slashed across the hood, fender. Pushing ahead of the people who stood gawking and taking pics, I could do nothing but stare, horrified at the vulgar words scrawled against the blue paint.