Beautiful Broken Mess (3 page)

“I should really get going anyway. My parents are expecting me, and I don’t want the milk to get warm…” I trail off because I can feel the start of my nervous rambling, and let’s be honest, my parents are never expecting me.

JACE -

I nod my head and stand. Will I ever see her again? Does she want to see me again? Hell, I already sound like a whimpering, lovesick puppy.
You would wreck this girl, Jace.
She just seems so fragile, yet deep in her eyes I can see fierceness, and damn if I don’t want to unleash that.

When I grab her hand and lace my fingers through hers, she stands without hesitation and allows me to lead the way. I can’t even remember the last time I held hands with a girl. She seems to like when I take control though. I walk her back out to my truck, quicker than I mean to. I need to drag out this time I have with her.

“Do you need a ride home?”
Please say ‘yes.’
I click the key fob and open the back passenger door, and then she reaches in to grab her
paper
sack. I want to ask her so many questions, like why paper? Is she an environmentalist? Does she not want to clog our landfills with more plastic? Because she seemed so adamant about it, almost as if she was frightened, and that’s the only conclusion I can come to right now.

“No, I’m just around the corner.”

I have to keep touching her, and I am
not
a touchy-feely guy. Who the hell is this girl? She has to be a witch. That has to be it. She must have cast a spell on me, because it’s the only way I can vouch for my actions around her.
Christ, stop touching the poor girl!
I can’t help myself, so I place my hands on her shoulders to keep her from leaving just yet. Shoulders are a safe-zone, right? I’m pretty sure I can still touch her here and it isn’t inappropriate.

“Can I have your number?” I ask, trying to recall the last time I actually had to ask a girl. Probably never, and even if I did, I sure as hell never called them. But she’s leaving and I’m panicking.

“No, but can I have yours?” she counters and smiles confidently up at me. Fuck, I’ll bet that smile gets her anything she wants.

I’m puzzled as to why she won’t give up her number, but I realize I have to go slow with this one. ‘Approach with Caution’ should be taped across her chest. Wait… screw that. Nobody better be touching that chest, except for me.

She continues smiling at me while I give her a half-cocked, questioning look as if to say, ‘What are you up to?’ I decide to let her have her way, reaching behind her into the truck to grab my notebook that has a pen tucked inside the metal spiral. She watches as I write my seven digits onto the lined paper and then tear it from the binding.

After I fold it into a small square, I think of another way I can touch her. Pathetic, I know. She’s still glancing at my hands holding the paper when I reach down and slowly slide it into her front jeans pocket, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric.
Damn, so close yet so far away
. When my hand slips from the confines of the pocket, she releases a trapped breath. I’m willing to bet she liked that about as much as I did.

I instantly cup her face firmly in between my hands, because I need her full attention. “You don’t get to ditch me. I want to see you again.” I hope that the sincerity of my statement is getting through to those beautiful brown eyes.

“I won’t,” she whispers back.

I know that I must have a cocky grin on my face, but damn it’s nice to know how much I seem to affect her. “Well, I guess I’ll be the pitiful guy at home, waiting for a girl to call him,” I say, winking. “Bye, Audrey.”

She needs to walk away now before I kiss her. If I do, I’ll kiss her so hard her lips will bruise. She needs to walk away, but instead, she’s just staring at me with that hopeful look on her face. Then all at once, the look dies and she says, “Bye, Jace.”

Was she hoping that I would kiss her too? Before she can get out of arm’s reach, I pull her back in front of me. I need to know that I’ll see her again. “You know that party Cole West throws every year before school starts?” I ask, throwing out the first thing I can think of.

She doesn’t say anything for a long time, and I start to think about what I asked. It doesn’t seem like a hard question. Everyone knows about Cole’s parties. People in town gossip about them for weeks afterward. Every August around this time, his parents fly up to DC for business purposes and that giant house of his just begs for a party. I can picture Audrey now, wearing a bikini and all wet from swimming. Shit, she needs to answer me so I can divert my attention away from thoughts of tiny bikinis, water, and her body. She nods her head.

“You’ll be there tonight, right?”

“Uh… if you want me to,” she replies.

“I want you… there.” I mostly just want her, but I also want her at that party with me.

“Okay, I’ll come. Where is it?”

This girl is hard to comprehend. Cole’s parties never change their venue. I cock my eyebrow up at her and ask, “You’ve never been?” When she shakes her head, I’m floored. Cole is everybody’s friend, he knows no stranger. How has he missed this one? And thank God he has, because she might have been the one exception to the bro-code of not hooking up with your buddies’ girls, current or past. “It’s at Cole’s house, which is the biggest one on Lincoln Court. You can’t miss it.” It’s a monstrosity. Way too big for three people.

For a fraction of a second, I see her face fall, but she quickly picks it back up and says, “Wow, okay… I’ll be there tonight.”

I can tell she’s uncomfortable about something and that she’s only agreeing to go because I want her to. Problem is, this girl even looks cute when she’s uncomfortable. I can’t hold out any longer. I reach out and situate her bag of groceries on the passenger seat again. Then before she even realizes what’s happening, I grab her arms and pin her against the side of the truck.

I can feel her heart beating wildly against my chest, so I lean down and press my lips against hers. Damn, she’s sweet. I shouldn’t have started this, because how the hell can I stop kissing a mouth that tastes like honey? With a little bit of persuasion, I coax her lips open and instantly my tongue is slowly dancing with hers. I still have her arms in a tight grasp against the truck, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s letting me control this.

My right hand slides away from her arm and over her waist, and I have to hold on tightly, afraid this enchantress will disappear. When my other hand leaves her arm, she instantly laces her fingers through my hair, which pulls a moan from my mouth. Our kiss deepens, both of us needing more. Then,
damn it all
… she lifts one of her legs and wraps it around my waist. I can’t stop myself from shoving her back further into the truck and grabbing the warm skin on her thigh to hold it in place. She fits me perfectly.

After a couple of heated beats, I realize that I’m about to rip this girl’s clothes off in the middle of the parking lot. My mom might be the coolest parent ever, but she would kill me if she heard about this from the old lady gossip in this town. So reluctantly, I break the kiss. Her eyes remain closed and she’s trying to catch her breath, as am I. Who knew making out could be so damn hot?

“Holy hell…” I breathe.

“Wow…” she says in the same moment.

“You’ll be there tonight.” It’s not a question anymore.

She nods her head and I hand her back the groceries. Without another word, I watch as she walks away carrying her paper bag, even though everything within me is saying she shouldn’t go. Call it the ‘White Knight Syndrome,’ but there’s just something about a beautiful damsel in distress, and I sure as hell want to be the one to save her.

- Two -

AUDREY -

When I sit down on the city bus, I finally get a chance to breathe in and out. How did a simple trip to the grocery store just rock my world off its axis? Did Jace really exist, or was he purely made up of too many library-loaned romance novels?

If I had a best friend, I would be running to her right now to tell her everything. But I don’t, so I’ll just have to replay that make-out scene over and over in my head. Lord knows it’ll never get old. Maybe I’ll sneak over to Mrs. Thomas’ to call my cousin, Kennedy, who lives in Connecticut. We’ve been getting closer these last couple of years, and she always tells me she can’t wait until I get my own phone so she can call whenever she wants.

I could use another girl’s perspective, since I’m still really confused about the whole incident. One minute he’s taking me to coffee because he feels bad about ruining my groceries, and the next he’s pinning me up against his truck and owning me. I’ve kissed plenty of guys. It’s what you do when you’re bored out here; you mess around and get into trouble. But I can definitely say that I have never been kissed like
that
.

I can’t even call that a kiss because it was on a whole other level. He made me forget about everything…where I was, where I’m from, and even where he’s from. It was just my lips and his, dueling for more. I don’t know what came over me when I lifted my leg, but that moan he made spurred me on.

At the thought of my groceries, I quickly grab the bag from the seat next to me and glance inside. Shit! No! Damn, why hadn’t I been more specific? First of all, the whiskey is some top-shelf brand that I know cost about seven-times more than the cheap one I always buy my dad. The milk is organic, the spaghetti is whole-wheat, the peanut butter has added omega-3s, and to make matters even worse, the ramen is the low-sodium kind. This grocery bill had to have been way more than mine typically costs because all of this stuff is the freaking healthier version! My dad is going to murder me and I’ll never make it to the party now.

A few weeks ago, I caught the tail end of my mom packing up all of her things and throwing them quickly into a beat-up old suitcase. A fancy black car pulled up out front and my mom rushed inside without even a second glace my way. I don’t care where she went or even why she left, but I do care that I’m getting the short end of the stick yet again. Ever since that day my dad has been strung tighter than usual and flying off the handle in the blink of an eye.

I quietly step into the house, relieved to see he isn’t home yet from the farm that he works on when he’s sober enough to show up. I might actually have a chance to get out of here unscathed. My dog, Chuck, saunters over with his tail wagging to greet me. Chuck, who we think is some kind of cattle dog, is the only loved member in this house. Everybody loves Chuck. He found us last year and never left, and thankfully he did, because he’s my only saving grace in this godforsaken house.

“Hey buddy,” I say while scratching behind his ear. “I gotta leave again soon, but I’ll be back later.”

I rush through my shower and put on the makeup Mrs. Thomas passed down to me a while back. Right as I’m slipping my feet into a pair of sandals, I hear my dad’s truck backfire out front. Quickly, I open the window in the bathroom and slip out into the knee-high grass. I can’t let him see me right now. Once he gets a look at those groceries, he will blow a gasket from the amount of money I ‘wasted.’

Just as I’m rounding the corner, I hear the old screen door slam open, loudly crashing into the metal siding. Before I can hide somewhere, he’s grabbing me by the arms. Coincidentally, it’s in the same exact spot Jace held me not even two hours ago, except this is nothing like how Jace touched me. This is malicious and meant to leave a mark.
Well it was nice knowing you, Audrey.

“Just who do you think you are, and why the hell do I see a bottle of whiskey on my damn counter that cost more than I make in a month?” I have no words; they’ve all dried up. “You think you’re better than me, girl? You’re too fucking good to buy the cheap one? You gotta go and waste my money?”

His
money? I’m pretty sure
I’m
the one working fifty hours a week in the back of a hot kitchen. Not that it matters to him though.

“The store was having a sale,” I manage to squeak out, without looking up at him.

“You think I’m some kind of idiot?”
Yes, yes I do
, I think. But I don’t say that because I’m kind of attached to my face.

Just then, Mrs. Thomas steps out of her trailer with a broom in hand. “Knock it off, Lee!” she hollers over at him.

Mrs. Thomas is about sixty years old, but I wouldn’t underestimate her and what she can do with a broom. When my dad hears her, his grip loosens a fraction, and he turns to glare at her for interrupting.

“You’re out there on your damn porch with that nonsense. I haven’t called the cops on your shit yet, but that don’t mean these other people won’t,” she says, pointing out our inquisitive neighbors.

When he realizes we have an audience, he reluctantly releases me. All the blood rushes back to my upper arms, and they begin to tingle from the return of blood flow. I immediately step away from him and head toward the bus stop at a clipped pace.

As I’m walking away, I hear his deep baritone say, “You can bet your ass we’ll talk later.”