Toxic Bad Boy(15)

Ian eyed the guard nearby before answering. “Actually, I do have a girl visiting me today.”

“Only approved family members are allowed to visit. Is she a cousin or something?”

His lazy smile was conspiratorial. “Nope.”

Now my interest was piqued. “Your do-gooder pen pal?”

The smile transformed into an intense scowl. “I would never let Alexandra come to this hellhole.”

Trying to keep a straight face, I asked, “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

“No,” he snapped, turning his back to me.

“Move along,” a guard ordered when I began laughing tauntingly.

In our cell, I sat down on my bed and ran a palm over my buzzed hair. I wondered what Gianna would think of my shorter hair. Closing my eyes, I imagined the feeling of her hands last time they were in my hair. In my mind, her nails were painted red as delicate hands journeyed below my neck, stroking my chest. One hand dipped inside my pants as her lips met mine....

Aw, fuck, juvie was killing me.

I threw myself back onto the thin mattress, clenching my fists in an effort to control the porn show taking place in my mind.

Ian showed up, strutting into our cell as he ran a comb through his wet locks. My eyes rolled at his primping. He started rummaging through my stack of magazines. “Do you have any cologne samples?”

I jumped up, snatching the GQ magazine my mom brought me on her last visit and rifling through it until I found a Calvin Klein sample. As I rubbed some onto my skin, I gave Ian a victorious smirk.

Unfazed, he grabbed it from my fingers and did the same. “What the hell, man? I don’t want to smell like you!”

He went back to playing with his blond hair. “Don’t worry, Caleb. You’re too ugly to be my Valentine.”

“So, how do you plan on getting a chick in here if she isn’t family?”

His grin widened. “My lawyer got her on the approved list, said she was a second cousin.”

A terrible thought came to me. “Do I know her?”

His eyebrows rose along with an evil smile. “Do you mean, have you screwed her?”

I granted him a black look. “With Gianna finally coming I don’t want any surprises.”

Ian frowned, rolling his eyes. “Her name is Trisha...something.”

“Real helpful,” I muttered. Then again, even with a last name I couldn’t be sure.

I snagged the red gift bag from under the bed that my mom had brought my Christmas present in. I didn’t have the tissue anymore, but I carefully placed into it the painting I’d made for Gianna.

It was kind of cheesy, but I’d painted the memory of when we’d gone tagging. I’d included myself in the painting and it was a view of our backs as we stood a few feet away from each other. Our arms were extended as we each gripped a can of paint, aiming at the wall in front of us. Black paint coated several of my fingers and bright blue paint dripped down Gianna’s index finger and over the top of her hand.

While sketching it, I’d thought it was kind of cool to paint a piece depicting the time we’d created art together. I’d even painted part of our handiwork that day.

Gianna’s delay in visiting already had me feeling uneasy, so I didn’t want to stress about whether she’d like my present. Half the time I was with the youth corrections therapist was spent discussing Gianna. Not having met her, my therapist could only guess at Gianna’s mental health. Dr. Adler explained how avoidance was normal behavior after an assault.

Patience was getting old.

Gripping the handles of the gift bag, I followed Ian out of our cell to line up for breakfast. From the cafeteria, anyone with visitors would be led to the visiting room and the rest would be taken outside to the basketball courts or gym.

I practically shoved the pancakes down my throat in my hurry to finish breakfast. A guard began calling out the names of inmates with visitors waiting. If Gianna didn’t show, I’d lose my shit. I could not go another day without seeing her face, breathing in her presence.

The last four months have been complete shit. I needed a strong dose of my girl to get me through the rest of my sentence.





GIANNA





I’d been afraid to walk inside the building. Gage had driven me to the youth corrections facility Caleb was locked up in and waited in his car outside. I was both elated and dreading seeing my boyfriend.

The pep talk Gage had given me before I’d come inside was a borderline scolding. I didn’t like to think of myself as weak, but hadn’t I proved it when I’d allowed Josh to hurt me? Hadn’t I proved it when I’d gotten my loving boyfriend imprisoned?

Gage had offered to accompany me inside, but only family was allowed to visit the inmates. As I waited for Caleb inside the large visitation room, I considered how fast my friendship with Gage had evolved. After that first day a week and a half ago, we’d hung out constantly. It was obvious Gage only wanted a platonic relationship and the safety in that was a relief. He’d even come to watch practice with the crew last Saturday.