Twisted(132)
“Gray,” she said, barely unable to speak. He’d given up his family for her, and they hadn’t even been in contact. She’d never met anyone more selfless.
“Don’t. It’s done.” He scratched his chest and she tried not to watch his muscles ripple. So many freaking muscles. “What else are you up to?”
“I just finished school.”
“That’s great. Where’d you end up?”
“Trawler Community College. I finished up my high school credits and got a certificate in Early Childhood Development in one fell swoop.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Turns out they have programs for fuckup dropouts like me.”
“Shut up. You weren’t ever a fuckup.”
“But I did drop out.”
“It isn’t dropping out if you end up somewhere better.” He tucked her hair behind her ear as he always had. “I’m so proud of you.”
She fought not to blush. “Thanks. I’m in a band.”
“Huh. Imagine that.” His grin grew. “Me too.”
“Oh yeah?” She knew exactly which one. She’d only stalked him to clubs in the area about ten times over the past year. “Maybe we should compare notes.”
“Maybe we should.” He frowned, tilting his head as he rubbed his fingers over her crowded earlobe. She was up to half a dozen piercings. “What the hell did you do to your hair?”
“Took you long enough to notice.”
“Oh, I noticed.” He rubbed his hand over the shaved part of her head that transitioned into long pink and green waves on the side. “You look fucking amazing.”
“But not hot,” she teased.
He started to respond when a door shut down the hall. She’d assumed he lived with a couple of roommates, so that didn’t surprise her. But when a curvaceous blonde came down the hall wearing just a nightshirt, carrying a basket of laundry that clearly contained a pile of boxers, Jazz stumbled back. Her heels hit the floor, hard.
“Hey, I couldn’t find the dryer sheets you bought. Are they in the—” The blonde trailed off and smiled at Jazz. “Hi. I didn’t realize we had guests. I’m Amber.” She anchored the laundry basket against her hip. “Man, your hair is sweet.”
Jazz laughed because what else could she do? Cry? Well, yeah, but that’d be later, when she was alone. “Thanks. I’m Jazz.”
“Awesome to meet you. Are you one of Gray’s music friends? You look like one of them.” She pursed her lips. “Oh my, that sounded bad. I mean, you dress funky like they do, with the ripped jeans and the cool hair and all. Of course your ass is half the size of mine.” She paused, apparently noticing Gray had yet to speak. He actually didn’t seem to be breathing, so that wasn’t too surprising. “Notice he’s not arguing with me,” she added.
“Jazz is my foster sister,” he said, almost robotically.
Jazz flinched before she could control it. You walked away. Remember that. “Used to be,” she said, making her voice as cheery as possible. “Now I’m just the girl with crazy hair he used to know.”
She turned to reach for the door, surprised to find it was still open. They’d just started talking without even closing it. Forgetting everything around them, just like old days.
Not anymore.
“Jazz, wait.”
“I wish I could hang out longer, but I have practice. You know, us wild music types have to play as much as possible.” She smiled at Amber over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’ll be right back,” Gray said to Amber, following Jazz onto the sidewalk.
When she just kept walking, he grabbed her arm and spun her back. “That’s it? You’re just leaving?”
“What do you expect me to do? You have a girlfriend. She’s even pretty.”
He frowned. “Did you expect me to have one that’s not?”
“No, but it would’ve been more considerate.”
“Woman, I don’t fucking understand you. You took off for two years without a word. You gave me a fake address and a fake phone number, swapped cell numbers and dropped out of school. You did everything you could to break contact with me. What the hell did you expect me to do? Hold my dick for two years?”
“I’m not supposed to think about your dick. Because I’m your foster sister, remember?”
He swore under his breath. “What am I supposed to do? Tell me.”
“It’s already done.” She shook her head and kept walking, anchoring her knapsack higher on her shoulder. “I’ll see you around. Maybe on the cover of a magazine. Or maybe YouTube. Lots of artists get discovered on there nowadays.”