Undeserving (Undeniable #5)(63)

She nodded. "I used to live near the beach, and every day after school I'd stop there."

She paused to sip her beer. "I went to a private school and we wore these awful uniforms." Recalling the button-down shirt that had reached clear up to her chin and the heavy plaid skirt, Debbie made a face. "The socks were the worst. So itchy. My favorite part of the day was taking them off and walking in the water."

It had also been her least favorite part of the day because it had meant she was that much closer to having to head home. And home was hell-complete with Satan himself.

Feeling her stomach tighten, Debbie shuddered through her next breath and wished she'd kept her mouth shut. Even her happy memories always turned dark.

"Private school, huh?" Preacher laughed. "I fuckin' knew it." He tapped two fingers to his temple. "Smart."

Despite her roiling insides, Debbie forced a smile. But the smile didn't last and she began shifting uncomfortably, suddenly acutely aware of her wet clothes, the way they were sticking to her body, chafing her skin. And the way the prickly weeds beneath her were poking sharply against her. And the way the sun was suddenly too hot, shining too brightly overhead, leaving her feeling as if she was under a spotlight.

Quickly she swallowed the last of her beer and set the bottle aside. The warm brew sloshed uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm going to go change," she mumbled and shot to her feet. Grabbing her backpack, she whirled away and hurried off through the crowds of people.

Reaching the dirt path, feeling overwhelmed by stomach-turning images, awash in unwanted feelings, Debbie picked up her pace.



       
         
       
        

Why had she even brought up the beach in the first place? What had she thought was going to happen? Maybe some small part of her had begun to hate the constant lying. Maybe that same part of her had wanted to set free a sliver of her truth and unburden a bit of her soul in the process.

Her eyes burning, she released a bitter snort. Whatever the reason, she should have known better.

Debbie slowed her steps and dug her sunglasses out of her backpack. She didn't think she was going to cry-she hadn't cried in forever-but just in case she did, she didn't want anyone to see.

God, she wouldn't ever be normal, would she? How could she hope to let someone else in when she couldn't even let herself in? The burning in her eyes intensified. Beneath the tinted lenses, she blinked furiously. Her chest tightened. She would not cry. She would absolutely not fucking cry.

Noticing a bathhouse just ahead, she felt a small sense of relief. She would lock herself in a toilet stall and fall apart in private.

"Wheels!"

Debbie jumped, nearly tripping over her own feet. Whirling around, she found Preacher striding up a small incline, concern darkening his features. Her stomach flip-flopped. She didn't want him to see her like this. She didn't want him to look at her like that-with concern or pity.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

Nothing is wrong, she wanted to scream. I'm normal! Please, just look at me like I'm a normal girl!

"I'm fine," she managed to squeak out.

"Lie," Preacher snapped and plucked her sunglasses from her face before she could stop him. She attempted snatching them back, but he held them just out of reach.

"You're fine, huh? Like hell you're fine. What the fuck happened back there?"

Standing in the center of the path, a large group was forced to part around them, and Debbie could feel their questioning, curious eyes on her as they passed by. Biting her bottom lip, she looked down at her bare feet.

"Wheels … " Preacher's hand brushed her cheek, and then he was cupping her chin, forcing her head up, forcing her to look at him.

His hand was cool, much cooler than her overheated skin, and she felt herself leaning into his touch. Her chest loosened, breathing becoming easier. Her stomach unknotted. Everything softened and slowed.

Debbie stared into Preacher's searching eyes. There were no shadows there, no storms brewing. Clear, dark-brown depths stared back at her without judgment, without pity, without …  hunger.

Debbie, all of a sudden, desperately wanted the hunger.

She didn't remember going up on her toes or wrapping her arm around Preacher's neck. She hardly registered pressing her mouth to his. It all happened so quickly. One moment she was looking into his eyes and the next she was kissing him. 

Harder and harder she kissed him, faster and faster. Their noses bumped, their teeth clacked, their breaths were infrequent, erratic bursts of air between the tangling of their tongues.