“Then go,” Marcus said. “I’m not hungry.”
Blaze and Marcus were at Bower’s Point, along with Teddy and Lance, who’d picked up two of the ugliest girls Marcus had ever seen and were in the process of getting them drunk. Marcus had been annoyed to find them here in the first place, and then Blaze had been hounding him for the past hour, asking where he’d been all day.
He got the feeling she knew it had something to do with Ronnie, because Blaze wasn’t stupid. Blaze had known all along that Marcus was interested in her, which explained why she’d planted those CDs in Ronnie’s bag. It was the perfect solution to get Ronnie to keep her distance… which meant that Marcus wouldn’t have a chance to see Ronnie either.
That pissed him off. And then to find her here, whining about being hungry and hanging all over him and pestering him with questions…
“I don’t want to go alone,” she whined again.
“Didn’t you hear me?” he snarled. “Do you ever listen to a single thing I say? I said I’m not hungry.”
“I’m not saying you have to eat anything…,” Blaze mumbled, subdued.
“Would you just shut up about it?”
That stopped her. At least for a few minutes, anyway. He could tell by the way she was pouting that she wanted him to apologize for something. Yeah, well, it wasn’t going to happen.
Turning toward the water, he lit his fireball, angry at the fact that she was still here. Angry that Teddy and Lance were here, when he wanted some peace and quiet. Angry at the fact that Blaze had run Ronnie off and especially angry that he was angry about any of it. It wasn’t like him, and he hated the way it made him feel. He wanted to hit something or someone, and when he glanced at Blaze and saw her pouting, she was tops on the list. He turned away, wishing he could drink his beer and turn up the music and just think in private for a while. Without all these people crowding him.
Besides, he wasn’t really angry at Blaze. Hell, when he’d first heard what she’d done, he’d been kind of pleased about it, thinking it might smooth the road between him and Ronnie. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, that kind of thing. But when he’d suggested it to Ronnie, she’d reacted like he had some kind of disease, like she’d rather die than come near him. But he wasn’t the type to give up, and he figured she’d eventually come to realize it was her only way out of this mess. So he’d gone to her house for a little visit, hoping for a chance to talk. He’d decided he would tone down the act and instead listen sympathetically when she talked about the awful thing that Blaze did. They might have gone for a walk and maybe ended up under the pier, and then whatever happened, happened. Right?
But when he got to her house, Will was there. Of all people, Will, just sitting there on that dune, waiting to talk to her. And Ronnie eventually did come outside and talk with him. Actually, they seemed to argue, but by the way they were acting, there was plainly something between them, which pissed him off, too. Because it meant they knew each other. Because it meant they were probably an item.
Which meant he’d been reading her all wrong.
And then? Oh, that was the kicker. After Will left, Ronnie realized that she had two visitors, not just one. When she noticed him watching her, he knew one of two things was going to happen. Either she’d come out and talk to him in the hopes of getting Blaze to tell the truth, or she’d act all scared like she had earlier and run inside. He liked the fact that he could scare her. He could use it to his advantage.
But she did neither of those things. Instead, she stared in his direction as if to say, Bring it on. She stood on the porch, her body language signaling angry defiance, until finally she went back into the house.
No one did that to him. Especially girls. Who in the hell did she think she was? Tight little body or not, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.
Blaze interrupted his thoughts. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
Marcus turned toward her, feeling the sudden urge to clear his mind, to cool off. He knew just what he needed and who would give it to him.
“Come here,” he said. He forced a smile. “Sit next to me. I don’t want you to go just yet.”
16
Steve
Steve looked up as Ronnie came back inside. Though she flashed a smile, trying to assure him that nothing was wrong, he couldn’t help noticing her expression as she grabbed her book and made for her bedroom.
Something was definitely wrong.
He just wasn’t sure what. He couldn’t tell whether she was sad or angry or scared, and while he debated the idea of trying to talk to her, he was pretty certain that whatever was going on, she wanted to handle it alone. He supposed that was normal. He may not have spent much time recently with her, but he’d taught teenagers for years, and he knew that it was when your kids wanted to talk to you—when they had something important to say—that your stomach should clench with worry.