Are You In The House Alone? (plus: Love Me) (9 page)

I felt all warm and tingly and
tried telling myself that it was just because I was glad Aiden was okay and
intact and didn’t get pounded to the ground in front of his teammates. But I
wasn’t really sure that was the only reason. I mean, I wanted it to be the only
reason, but I was afraid it also had to do with The Griff—that he had let
Aiden save-face (literally) because of me. I felt … touched.

Jazz raised her eyebrows then
furrowed them, obviously astounded by the unexpected turn of events. “We’re
square? Griffin said that? We’re
square?
”

She said it again, incredulously,
like:
No way
.

Aiden shrugged, still smiling.
“That’s what he said.”

Jazz didn’t look convinced. “Maybe
he wants it to be a surprise attack.”

Aiden shrugged again. “I don’t
think so. He seemed in a good mood—like he just aced a test or something.
He let me off the hook—we’re square.”

“Griffin Piper doesn’t let people
‘off the hook,’” Jazz said knowingly, like she was all up on Griffin. “He’d
beat you up on principle alone. You called him a
Neanderthal
.”

Aiden didn’t miss a beat. “He is.”

“Yeah, but see, that’s just it,”
Jazz said. “He has a reputation to uphold.”

I traced my lips, still feeling the
warmth of Griffin’s hot mouth, or imagining I could. Obviously, Jazz was wrong.
Griffin didn’t care about maintaining his bad-boy reputation as much as she
thought. Apparently.

Either that or … he wanted to kiss
me pretty bad. The thought made my body kind of spastic and had all the hairs
on my arms standing on end. Only that was nothing compared to my heart. It was
beating all crazy. But it was dumb to get so worked up over the ridiculous
thought. I knew that. It wasn’t like Griffin had a “thing” for me or anything.
He didn’t. I knew that. I don’t think he even ever noticed me before.

Well, I used to think
that—that Griffin didn’t notice me. But he knew my last name was Grange,
and that Aiden was my boyfriend, so obviously he knew more about me than I
thought. But we never had any classes together—and he never talked to me
before. Well, except once.

It was a long time ago, though.

Back in junior high I’d been
carrying an armload of books as I had to change lockers since the girl that had
the locker above mine liked to make-out with her boyfriends at her locker,
which was, you know, in the same proximity as mine—like right on top of
it. And I totally hated to interrupt them to get into my locker, especially
because the girl was kind of scary. I mean, I was actually slightly afraid of
her. So, instead of being late for every class, or hauling my books around with
me everywhere, I decided to change lockers.

Anyway, I was carrying an armload
of books and some guys were joking around, wrestling with each other in the
hallway and one of them, Jake Edwards, accidently bumped into me and knocked
down the top couple of my stacked books.

Jake laughed about it and called me
a “school girl,” and in case you can’t tell, Jake was a jerk back then (and
still is, by the way).

But Griffin had been one of the
guys messing around with Jake. He might have even been the one that pushed Jake
into me. I’m not sure. But anyway, there were three of them—three big,
bully-guys. So I was nervous and just wanted to get away from them. I even
considered leaving the dropped books behind and just taking off. Seriously,
that’s how bad I wanted to get away.

But as I contemplated making a dash
for it, Griffin quickly picked up the fallen books. Only then he didn’t hand
them back. At first I was terrified he was going to start chucking them at me
or at random people as Jake and his friends would probably do something like
that, and Griffin had seemed like that kind of jerky guy too. But he didn’t
chuck them or do anything mean.

Instead he said, “Sorry, about
that. Your arms are pretty full.” He started to take the rest of the stack from
me. “I’ll carry your books for you, okay?”

His friends razzed him for that,
making kissing noises and saying, “Aww, Griffin’s all soft for School Girl.”

But Griffin just quirked his
eyebrows at them like they were idiots—which made me right then and there
instantly get a monster crush on him—and secretly keep it for the whole
next year, though Griffin never talked to me again and immediately started
dating skanky girls—one right after the other.

So, that was that.

Until that day—

When Griffin kissed me and didn’t
bash in Aiden’s face.

***

I hope you liked the sample

HIS KISS
is available now and only costs
a dollar.

http://www.amazon.com/His-Kiss-Young-Adult-Romance-ebook/dp/B00631JXEO

CHAPTER 1

“Ryan,” I say nervously as he’s
entering the bathroom.

He freezes, and I pull the closing
bathroom door back open, propping myself against it.

Ryan slowly turns to see what girl
is bothering him now—even as he’s going into the
bathroom
.

He tilts his head quizzically when
he sees it’s me. He raises his eyebrows with an amused—though
intrigued—grin, “Yes?”

I scan the bathroom. (We’re in a
restaurant, by the way. I work here.) I conclude there is no one but Ryan
inside, so I hop in as well, closing the door behind me. This does not erase
Ryan’s obvious bewilderment.

He gives me a puzzled grin. “What
do you want Lexi?”

I’m not sure what has him more
baffled, that I actually followed him into the
bathroom
, or that I’m talking to him, at all, since we haven’t had
a conversation since the eighth grade.

I figure I should just get to the
point, since he obviously needs to pee or whatever. Only now that I have his
attention (he’d come into the restaurant with a gorgeous girl, so I didn’t feel
at liberty to ask him my request while I was
hiding
from him), but now that I have him alone, with his eyes on
me like that, all interested and curious and, well, hot—I’m having
trouble remembering what I came to ask him.

But then it suddenly hits me,
because I get a text from my friend, Carly. My dear, fragile friend. Instantly
my reason for stalking perplexed Ryan clobbers me—Wham!

I scold myself:
‘You’re not here to drool over Ryan, Lexi.
Sad little dope. You’re here to help your friend.’

I drag my eyes away from Ryan’s.
But then have to peek up at him. “Um, you know my friend, Carly?”

“No. I don’t think so,” he says.

Ugh! Yes, he does. He just talked
to her last week. She had gushed on and on about their conversation, as though
it had been the one shining moment in her sad little world … and yet he
couldn’t remember it.

What did she gush about him
this
time? Well, I don’t want to tell
you, because it will warp your image of the guy—and I don’t want it
warped. Yet. So, I’ll just say, she went on and on about the sweet thing he did
… and I have to say, what he did was sweet. It really, really was. But Ryan
isn’t sweet. (Just making that clear—I didn’t follow him into the
bathroom because I think he’s sweet. Or because I want him. Sadly, it’s poor
Carly that wants him.)

I roll my eyes, “Yes, you know
Carly, Ryan.”

He shrugs. “If you say so.”

Okay, he probably doesn’t remember
her. He has tons of girls after him. And it
was
a whole
week
ago. But come on, they have classes
together. Have had classes together since the
seventh
grade. But the dude is actually clueless about the hordes
of girls clawing themselves for him … unless they have curves that make him
notice. And, you know, it’s been within a week since they spoke.

Anyway, when Carly called me about
Ryan last week she had gushed on and on about him—about how romantic what
he did was. She had been so full of longing I could have cried.

So, yeah. Here I am. Following the
dude into the restroom.

“I have a proposition for you,” I
tell him.

His eyebrows go up. High.

Okay, maybe the boys’ bathroom is
not the best place to say that—offer a proposition.

I backtrack, fast. “—it’s for
my friend, Carly.”

I can tell he’s still clueless who
she is. And not too terribly interested in finding out. As soon as I said the
proposal was for Carly, and not me, his eyes immediately lost their spark. No
more interest.

“A proposition for your friend?” he
says, almost sounding bored. Like he gets propositions about girls all the
time. (Sadly, he probably does.)

“Yes, a proposition for Carly. I’d
like you to date her.”

“Yeah. No thanks.”

“Come on, please. She likes you so
much—and it would mean so much to her.”

When I can see he’s still going to
turn me down, I go on, “Ryan, come on. You know I wouldn’t do this—talk
to you, let alone follow you into the bathroom—unless it was a big deal.”

His jaw muscles tick. “Big deal to
her—or you?”

“Both of us.”

He scrubs a hand over his face.
“Why are you doing this?”

“She really,
really
likes you.”

He exhales very loudly, and
dramatically (teasingly). “What does she look like?”

“She has big boobs,” I tell him,
knowing he likes that. And it will get his attention more than anything
else—I mean, more than hours of description.

He grins and closes his eyes. He
juts his chin, “As big as yours?”

“Bigger.”

He squints a bit, looking
suspicious. “Let me see a picture of her.”

I quickly scan through my phone for
the best picture I have of Carly. She’s cute … but he’s not really into cute.
He’s able to get
gorgeous
. Regularly.
So, I’m nervous.

I hold my breath, showing him the
best picture I can find.

He glances at it—barely.
“Nah,” he says. “Sorry.”

“Ryan! Come on, she’s really
sweet.”

“I’m sure she is. But she’s not my
type.”

Shudder. “What’s your type?”

His lips quirk. “You.”

A flutter whooshes through me. I
ignore it. “Please Ryan.”

He groans and scrubs a hand over
his face. He winces and asks it again, “Why are you doing this?”

“She’s been really sad—like
manically sad. Like, she tried to commit suicide and just recently got out of
the mental hospital.”

“Okay, you’re really selling me on
her now.” He says it total deadpan. But a dark sardonic grin tugged on his lips
as he said it. (Ryan’s like that—darkly sardonic.)

“You could cheer her up—just
be gentle and sweet.” I give him a tiny look, “You
can
be gentle and sweet.”

He shakes his head with a little
smirk. “That’s not what I hear—I hear I’m ‘callous.’”

Okay, I had called him callous.
Once. In the
eighth
grade. I’m
surprised he even remembers.

“Look, it’s true,” he says, not
sounding teasing anymore. Sounding completely sincere. “I’m callous. Not on
purpose, but I’m not all soft and sensitive, and I don’t want that kind of
responsibility. I mean, you’re placing her care in the wrong hands.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he
gently presses two warm fingers against my lips, softly stopping my words (and
my heart). “I’m callous and insensitive, Lexi; and definitely shouldn’t be
trusted with a girl on the edge. Don’t put that kind of pressure in my hands,
Lexi. It won’t go well—you know that.”

I pry his fingers off my lips.
“Ryan, no. You can handle it. You can! For
one
month. One. Just be super nice and respectful. Get her over her gloomy
funk—ease her out of it. Then ease her out your relationship—tell
her your therapist doesn’t think you’re ready for a relationship.”

He raises an eyebrow. “My
therapist?”

“Yeah. They advise stuff like that.
She knows that. She’ll have to accept it. It’s not her … it’s your therapist.”

He scratches his chin, then
squeezes his eyes shut. “I’d love to help you out—I would, Lexi. But I
can’t be responsible for a girl hovering on the brink. Seriously. I can’t be
even be responsible, period.”

I roll my eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“Okay, so why are you doing this?”

“Because she likes you. And … she
needs this. You’re good at making a girl feel special.”

He gives me a tiny look.

He grunts, then draws out a breath.
“Let me see the picture again.”

I dangle her picture in front of
his face.

He glances at it. Sooo briefly.
“No.”

I quickly gush out my leverage, “I
have tickets to see Roll.”

His eyes flicker with interest. And
amusement. “How did you know I want to see Roll? Were you stalking me?”

He had put on a bunch of social
pages that he was dying to see Roll, but the show was sold out.

I wasn’t stalking him though. Carly
was.

When she mentioned he wanted to see
them so bad, it gave me the idea. He could take Carly … since I had tickets to
see them. I bought the tickets months ago—the moment they went on sale. I
happen to love Roll as much as Ryan. Probably more than he does. But I love
Carly more. I’m willing to give up my favorite band for her … if it can make
her happy.

Ryan draws out a breath. “You’d
give up your tickets for your friend?”

I nod.

“You don’t know what you’re asking
of me, Lexi. I can’t be faithful to her—not even for a month. I have a
chick waiting outside the door for me—and another I have my sights on
once I drop this one off at her house. I’m sort of booked.”

“It’s Roll.”

“Right. I’ll take her to
that—definitely. I would
love
to take her to that. And I’ll make out with her, and go as far as you want me
to go with her—for that night.”

“Give her a month—please? One
month. Her boyfriend broke up with her, Ryan—that’s why she went there.
Not that she’s like that. She’s not. At all. It was just a sad moment for her.
But give her some happy moments.”

“I’ll give her a night of happy
moments.”

“A month—and no sex.”

He scoffs. “No tickets to Roll is
worth that.”

“Fine. Be a selfish jerk.” I start
to storm out the door.

He puts his hand on my shoulder,
making all the air inside me catch. My knees go weak. He gently pulls me back
to him. “You’re not being fair Lexi.”

I know. I totally know that. And I
know I had no right to call him selfish just because he didn’t want to help
my
friend.

I’m being unreasonable. I know
that. But poor Carly! She could use a little sunshine. And for some
inexplicable reason, Ryan is her sunshine. (Okay, it isn’t
that
inexplicable. At all. It’s totally explicable. Ryan is tons of
girls’ sunshine. Ryan is hot.)

My heart flutters as he stares at
me.

He tilts his head slightly, like
he’s negating something in his mind.

Weighing his words carefully he
says, “You know how your friend feels about me? That’s how I feel about you.”

My heart explodes.

I drop the soda I was slurping. It
runs down his pants.

“Oh! Sorry!” I grab paper towels
and start mopping him up. Yes, his pants area. Awkward … and STUPID. Yet my
frazzled brain is gone, flew away. So, like the world’s biggest spazzy dork, I
keep rubbing.

Hello
,
it moves.

He looks down at me, raising his
eyebrows, like what did you expect?

Cuz, you know. I was rubbing him.

I yelp and lurch away.

Unable to look at him, I murmur,
“Um, sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you can finish that
later if you want. But right now I have something I came in here to
do—and then I have a date waiting for me in a booth—and by the way,
you’re our waitress. You’re earning your tip pretty originally, I’ll give you
that.”

My face on fire, I slog to my feet.
“So, you won’t help Carly?”

He glances up at the ceiling for a
second, then thumps his forehead lightly against the wall. “I was getting to
that before you decided to get me stirred up.” He gives me a sidelong glance.
“I was saying: How she feels about me? That’s how I feel about you.”

“Liar.”

“Am I lying?”

“You’re calloused and insensitive.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah, but you’re
hot. And I’ve sort of had a soft spot for you since—well, you
know—my whole life. I mean, you may have gotten over me … but I haven’t
gotten over you—you were my one and only girlfriend. Ever.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so
calloused and insensitive.”

He grins. “Maybe.”

Then he adds, “But so do we have a
deal?—I’ll help you with your girl, and you help me with my needs.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Your needs?”

“Yeah, my need to get you out of my
system. Get closure.”