“What’s wrong with you? Daisy’s hot.” He chugged the rest of the beer and crushed the can.
“She’s…” I struggled to find the words to do her justice, so I settled with, “She’s a terrible human being.”
“A terrible—” he laughed, face-palming. “What has gotten into you?”
“She used to call me No-No our senior year.”
“And?”
“She’s just… dumb. There is no depth there. At all.”
“She’s got depth where it counts.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Look, you owe me for getting your ass outta jail. Daisy won’t leave us alone if she’s not preoccupied.”
I groaned. “Fine, but I’m not fucking her.”
“I don’t care if you play Tic-Tac-Toe as long as you keep her occupied for thirty minutes.”
“Man, you just got laid last night.”
“No.” He tossed the beer in the trash then shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t.”
“You didn’t sleep with Meg?”
“What is this an FBI interrogation?”
“It’s just…” I snarled, half confused, half intrigued. “It’s not like you.”
“Yeah, well, shit happens sometimes.”
Two hours later and there I sat out in the heat with mosquitoes feasting on me like I was the damn Red Cross. Daisy yapped about some reality show while Trevor was inside banging out the bottom of Lori like she was a new set of drums. Whatever Daisy said, she evidently found hilarious because that hyena laugh pierced my ears. I was tempted to slam my face right into the grill and close the lid, but instead, I cringed away, slamming back the last of my fourth beer. The laugh finished off with that damn snort and then she scooted closer to me, pushing her tits out and scraping her teeth over her slut-red lips.
“You know,” she said, trailing her finger over my arm. “I get a lot of likes on those videos I upload of you singing.”
“Hmm.” I tossed my beer can to the ground and leaned over to grab another beer from the cooler. I didn’t want another one. I didn’t need another one, I just wanted her hand off of me.
“You’ve got such a pretty voice, Noah.”
I popped the tab, leaned over my knees, and took a big gulp.
“Super pretty.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw you on the CMAs one day.”
I laughed into my beer. “Yeah, that’s doubtful.”
“Oh, come on, you sound better than half those singers on the radio, not to mention”—her hand was back on me, rubbing over my chest—“you’re much better looking.” I just took another sip of beer and stared at the beetle crawling across the grass. “Want to go inside?”
As annoying as she was, Daisy was a good-looking girl. Had that been two weeks prior, I probably would have already had her naked, but there was a nagging feeling twisting my gut. I didn’t want that girl, and more importantly, the one I did want, deserved better than this.
Before I could tell her no, my phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out.
“Bad Reputation” by Shawn Mendes. Your theme song? LOL.
I knew there was a stupid grin plastered on my face, and Daisy noticed it too. Her gaze strayed to my phone and she tilted her head before slowly taking it from my hand and leaning into me. “Is that…Hannah…Blake?” Her nose wrinkled like a little rat. “See,” she whispered close to my ear. “All the girls want you.” Her lips pressed against my throat and I exhaled. “Even the virgins.”
The what? “What?” I ask, grabbing my phone from her hand.
“She’s a preacher’s daughter.” She laughed.
“And?”
She rolled her eyes so hard her lashes fluttered. “Oh, come on, No-No, you know girls like that aren’t any good for you.” My face heated. “You need a girl that will”—she kissed my throat again, her hand pawing at my thigh—“give you what you need.”
I ducked away from Daisy and pushed to my feet just as Trevor came jogging down the stairs, no shoes, no shirt, his pants halfway down his thighs.
“What the…”
“Come on, Noah!” he shouted, storming around the corner of the house.
Lori came running through the back door, hurling his shoes over the porch railing. “You’re an asshole, Trevor Davis.” Her voice strained. “An asshole.”
I didn’t wave goodbye; I just followed Trevor to his car, glad to be getting the hell out of there. Swearing under his breath, he yanked the door open and climbed in. He slammed it shut so hard the car rocked.
“What was that about?” I buckle my seatbelt when the engine fired up.
“She saw some text Joanne sent me and went off the rails nuts. She slapped me. Threw a lamp and a figurine of Jesus at me.” He slammed the car into reverse and floored it. The tires squealed over the pavement, fishtailing before we turned onto the highway.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “What the hell kinda text was it?”
“Just a titty picture.” He groaned. “Lori started screaming some bullshit about me cheating on her.”
“You weren’t seeing her though…”
“Hell no. I don’t see girls. I fuck ‘em.” He shifted gears, his jaw tensing. “I swear, you sleep with a girl more than once and they think there’s something to it.”
I nodded. “Man, you should know better than that by now. You have to lay out the rules. Call them your friend every time you get a chance. We’ve been through this.” We had been through that more times than I wanted to count. Guys and girls expect different things. And no matter how many times you have the conversation with a girl that it’s just for fun, that it won’t turn into anything serious—no matter how many times they agree they are on the same page, no strings attached… you get burned. You do something or say something that makes them think it’s going in the direction of a relationship and the next thing you know, you have the reputation of a grade A certified manwhore.
“I’m sticking to one-night stands from now on,” Trevor said.
“Well, I’d say you’re about to hit a dry spell because I’m pretty sure you’ve been through all of Coosa county already,” I said, pulling my phone out and sending Hannah a text.
“Bad Reputation”? Sounds about right. I’ll have to check it out.
18
Hannah
The waiting room doors to the hospital slid open, the cool, medicinal scented air from inside hitting me when I walked in.
Out of the ten patient rooms, only one door was closed. The ER was eerily slow that day, which gave me little to do but think. Daddy had mentioned that morning that we needed to look into burial arrangements, so when the time came, it wasn’t so much on us. I snapped and accused him of giving up. So, I sat there for half my shift trying to ignore the guilt, trying to convince myself there was no need to make arrangements. My mind was on a crash course with disaster when Dr. Roberts handed me the paperwork he’d just signed off on. “How’s your mother?” he asked.
“Good.” I tore the pink copy off, slipping it into the patient file. “She’s good.”
“You know, they have a clinical trial up at University Hospital I’ve heard promising things about. You should see about enrolling her in one.”
I forced a weak smile. “I’ve messaged the project coordinator.” Maybe he was right? We’re looking into clinical trials. Studies… we’re that desperate that we’re going down the path of the unknown.
He placed his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll get through this. You’re strong.” And then he disappeared into one of the patient rooms.
Meg slipped up behind me. “Dr. Roberts’ touchy-feely much?” she laughed.
“He’s fine.”
“So, spill.” Meg propped her hip against the counter. “What happened last night?” She eyed me up and down with a slight smirk on her pink lips, and I welcomed the distraction.
“Nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” She rounded the counter and flopped down in one of the rolling chairs, pushing it across the floor like a seven-year-old. “I’m your best friend. Don’t lie to me.” She rolled back past.
“I’m not. Nothing happened.”
She caught herself on an IV pole and spun the chair around. “Not even a kiss?”
“No, not even a kiss.”
“Ohhh…” she shook a finger at me. “He’s good. Very good. Gotta hand it to him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The no kiss thing is a mark of the ultimate player. He’s already figured you out.”
“Uh-huh.” I leaned over the keyboard, pulled Ms. Smith’s name up on the screen, and hit print.
“He knows he has to take it slow. Throw some pretty lines at you… make you feel special.”
I grabbed the labels from the printer.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me!”
“You’re ridiculous,” I said on my way to grab test tubes from the supply closet. But what if she’s not? What if he is just as bad and as good as she says? Oh my God, what does it even matter? It mattered because I wanted to matter to him.