Believe in Us (Jett #2) (14 page)

The week without Jett is absolute torture, but luckily it passes by just like every other bad thing in my life. Soon, Jett is back in school and things settle into a routine. I still get a few random glares from girls but I don’t have the time or energy to care.

Keep your head high and your standards higher.

Well, that’s not exactly my motto, but it
is
a saying that’s selling really well in Becca’s online art store. She paints it on these small square canvases that have little wooden easels to display them. They’re the perfect size for putting on a desk or in a cubicle, and I think women really like the message it projects. I’ve been trying to keep my head high, too.

Things with Jett are great. I shiver as I think about our night together last night, the romance and the intimacy of making out with him in my bed. We still haven’t gone
all the way
, but we don’t have to. If anything, the slow anticipation of that big night—whenever it may come—keeps our relationship exciting.

It’s Sunday morning and Jett is running laps with his Dad on the track. I’m sitting alone on the top row of the bleachers, sipping from a coffee in one of those paper cups in the Track’s break room. Although we’re open for business right now, the only client is with Park and Becca is running the front desk so she said she didn’t mind if I wanted to watch Jett.

Hanging out at the Track is such a welcome pastime now that school has started. This place was practically my home all summer and it feels good to get back here. I haven’t really worked much lately since they haven’t been busy, but I’m not worried about money anymore. I have some saved up in my bank account, and my lovely new mother gave me a credit card the other day.

“For essentials and emergencies,” she said, wiggling the card before handing it to me. “Park and I will pay the bill, so don’t worry about it.”

“Essentials like, when you need me to get something on the way home from school?” I asked. “Because I don’t mind getting milk and stuff for you.”

“Essentials like food, gas, manicures, Starbucks,” she said, listing it off on her fingers. “You know. Stuff parents pay for.”

I grinned. “Just admit that you’re dying to blow money on me.”

She batted her eyelashes and handed me the card. “It’s my motherly duty, hun. Get used to it.”

Even with her permission to use the card freely, I haven’t used it at all yet. But it’s nice to know I have it. It’s nice to finally go to bed at night not worrying about money, or the lack of it. I almost let myself wonder about Dawn, and how she’s doing. If she’s still getting by with little to no money. But that would be a waste of my time, so I don’t think about it.

“Hey girl,” Bayleigh says, walking up to the bleachers. She holds onto the railing and climbs to the top, taking a seat next to me. She’s wearing a tank top and yoga pants but I still can’t see any sign of a baby bump yet. Last week she said it took about four months of pregnancy with Jett to see her belly growing.

“How long have they been at it?” she asks, nodding toward the track where Jett and Jace chase each other on dirt bikes.

“Only about ten minutes,” I say, gazing out. Even though Jace is nearly twenty years older than Jett, you can’t tell them apart on the track. They’re both tall, muscular, and covered from head to toe in gear.

Bayleigh crinkles something—a Pop tart bag—and pulls one out. Strawberry, by the looks of it. She takes a bite and holds out the silver wrapper to me. “Want the other one?”

I take it and we eat in silence for a bit while we watch the guys ride.

“You ever think about getting on a bike?” she asks.

I shrug. “I like riding on the back with Jett. Not sure I’d be good enough to ride one on my own.”

“It’s fun, you should try it.” She finishes her Pop tart and brushes the crumbs off her hands. “Of course, I’m not any good at it since I started so late. They say getting a kid on a bike when they’re too young to know fear is what makes them good riders. Once you’re an adult and you get on a bike, you have that fear of death, fear of getting hurt—and you’re not very fast.”

I nod. “How old was Jett when he started riding?”

“Three,” she says, laughing. “My husband fought like hell to get him on a bike. I was scared out of my mind, but it all worked out. I just had to trust him, ya know?”

I nod. I like these little talks we sometimes have. It always gives me an insight into what a perfect relationship is like and how the two people who have raised Jett to be the guy I’m in love with deal with their everyday lives.

“Jett is crazy about you, kid.”

“Um, what?” I blurt out just because I’m so stunned to hear those words.

She focuses on Jace as he soars through the air, turning two smaller jumps into one massive jump. As soon as his bike lands safely on the other side, she looks at me. “My son is totally in love with you. I mean, who can blame him—you’re adorable and I love you, too.” She watches him ride around the track, almost as if she’s remembering something that makes her happy.

“I really love him,” I say, hoping she knows it’s the complete and total truth.

“You two are a lot like Jace and me.” Her eyes do that far off gazing thing again and she tells me a little about their relationship, how they started off hot and heavy and how it never faded. “Everyone thought I was stupid for falling so hard so fast, but I didn’t care. Getting pregnant was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She laughs and pats my arm. “Not that I’m telling you to do the same thing. Ya’ll take your time and do what’s best for your relationship.”

My shoulders lift. “I don’t think I’d be a good mom, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“What? Of course you would!” She pulls out the hair tie in her messy bun and redoes her hair. “You can’t think like that because I want grandchildren, you hear me?” She gives me this pretend serious look. “I want to be a hot young grandmother, but like I said, no rushing into it.” She winks and I can’t help but grin.

I’m barely getting used to the fact that I’m in love with my soul mate. I can’t exactly think about having a family with jet. I mean, he’s a junior in high school. So yeah—not happening. Still, maybe in the future . . .

“Damn, girl,” Bayleigh says. “I can see it in your eyes. You two are the real deal. You’re just as crazy about my son as he is about you, huh?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks and I’d almost rather dive off the back of these bleachers than answer her question. This is awkward, after all.

“Yeah,” I say, breathless. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, I can’t imagine a better girl for my kid. Just keep him in line, okay?”

“Sure thing,” I say, grinning as Jett pulls off the track and rides over to us. “I’ll take care of him.”

*

After lunch, I lay on my stomach on Jett’s bed, flipping channels on the TV. He’s in the shower after a morning of motocross practice and I can’t wait for him to get out. Bayleigh and I made grilled chicken and a huge salad for lunch, and we bonded even more while in the kitchen.

I’ve always liked Jett’s mom but after today, it feels like we’ve grown closer together. Like we’re family. I don’t know . . . maybe I’m just imagining it. But whatever it is, it feels good. After all, having a guy’s parents on your side is always a good thing.

Jett emerges fully dressed and I’m a little sad I don’t get to see him walking around in nothing but a towel around his waist.

“Lazy weekends are the best,” Jett says, stretching out his arms and diving onto the bed next to me. “We should go see a movie or something tonight.”

“Sure,” I say, leaning over on my elbow so I can kiss him.

“Nuh-uh,” Jett says when I roll back over onto my stomach. “I don’t want just one kiss.”

Warmth fills my stomach when I see him gazing at me, his eyes full of desire. I roll over to my back and put a finger to my lips. “Hmm . . . then what do you want to do?”

Jett is never one to miss an opportunity of being close to me. He seizes the moment now, rolling on top of me, holding up his weight on his elbows. “I want to do this,” he says, dropping his lips to my neck. The stubble on his chin tickles, his breath on my neck sending chills down my shoulder.

I slide my hands under his shirt and up his back, feeling the taunt muscles under my fingertips. I lift my head and kiss him slowly, our tongues exploring each other. “Why aren’t you closer?” I whisper, whining because he’s holding himself too far above me. I want to feel his body against mine.

“I just like to torture you,” he whispers, kissing me harder.

I grumble and wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer. He gets this cocky grin and straightens his elbows, keeping himself a foot above me on the bed.

“You need to be closer,” I say, kissing his collarbone.

“Oh, but it’s so much fun to mess with you,” Jett’s raspy voice sends tingles down to my toes.

That’s it. I wrap my arms around his neck until my fingertips touch my elbows, and then I swing my legs around his stomach. I’m like a sloth on a tree branch as I pull myself up to him, holding on tight until I’m happily snuggled against him.

He laughs and bends at the elbows, slowly lowering us until my back hits the bed. I keep my legs wrapped around his stomach, feet hooked at the ankles.

“That’s hot,” he whispers, letting more of his body weight press against me.

My hips grind into his, and his breath hitches.

Then his freaking phone rings.

“Ignore it,” he whispers, his hand sliding down my side while he kisses me passionately, his body feeling so damn good against mine.

But three phone calls later and our make out is kinda ruined. He breaks away from our kiss, and leans over on his elbow. “I wonder who that is,” he mutters, casting a scornful look toward his phone on the nightstand.

I slide my finders down his chest, feeling the ripples of his muscles until I get down to the waistband of his jeans. “You should probably go check that,” I whisper against his lips.

He kisses me one more time, teasing me with his tongue, and then he leaps off the bed, leaving me cold and aching with desire.

“Ugh, it’s D’andre,” he says, holding up his phone. “Wonder what he wants . . .” His face glows from the phone screen and I roll over on my stomach, watching him.

His eyes squint together while he reads a message. “Oh shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “No, no, no.”

My brows pull together. “What is it?”

He looks up at me and shakes his head. “I’m fucked.” 

My eyes blur as I stare at D’andre’s text for the tenth time. Why the hell is this happening to me? I
try
to be a good person. I’ve turned over a new leaf, settled down. I don’t steal or kick puppies. But I guess the sins of my past refuse to let themselves disappear, refuse to let me truly start over.

“Babe?” Keanna says, pushing up to a sitting position on my bed. “Is someone dead?”

“My career, probably.” I throw my phone onto the bed and sit, sinking my head into my hands. Keanna reaches for my phone, probably to read D’andre’s text.

“I don’t understand what this means,” she says a few seconds later. The bedspread shifts around as she climbs over and sits down next to me. “What is Girlfriend Beware?”

My fingers curl into my hair. I sit up and then exhale sharply, wishing all of my anger would go out with my breath. It doesn’t.

“Girlfriend Beware is this stupid website that some seniors set up a couple of years ago. I was a freshman at the time and it became a big deal when a bunch of senior guys got called out on it. Basically, it’s a blog where girls send in stories about guys who are cheaters or liars. It’s spread out all over the county now, not just in our school.”

D’andre’s text wasn’t very long, but I know what it means. He’d simply texted:
Shit man, you’re on girlfriend beware.

“Okay first of all, that’s really stupid and secondly,” Keanna says, pushing off my bed. She walks over to my desk and opens my laptop. “Let’s see what they posted, hmm?”

I run my hand down my face. “No way, I don’t even want to know.”

But when she opens the browser and searches for the website, I can’t help but go over there and peek over her shoulder.

The website is rudimentary, set up on some free blog hosting site. The only user who ever makes the posts is someone called
TruthSeeker
, but on the side of the website it has a link for girls to send in their stories to be posted.

And right there on the homepage, is a photo of me, probably stolen from someone’s Facebook page. I’m holding a beer and smiling, but not at the camera. It’s at one of the lake parties, a couple years ago, judging by the length of my hair.

“Jett Adams makes this week’s list of guys to stay far away from,” Keanna reads aloud. “Actually, make that guy of the
year
. Ladies, you don’t want to go near this handsome bastard.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to hear anymore,” I say, turning around and walking to my window. I stare outside, watching a bird fly between the powerlines.

“It’s not too bad, Jett.” Keanna scrolls through the page, speed-reading it all. I’m cringing inside, but I’ve already decided that if we’re going to be together, we’ll eventually know everything about each other. There’s nothing on that website that I should keep from her anyway, so it doesn’t matter if she reads it, despite how much I hate the idea.

Keanna clicks off the website and closes my laptop. “It’s really not that bad, babe.” She joins me in front of my window and wraps her arms around my waist.

“It is bad.” I sigh and slide my hand around her back. “This is bad for my career.”

She peers up at me. “How?”

“It’s still two years before I can go pro, but the motocross world is very much a family sport. Racing teams won’t want me on their team if I have drama surrounding me. I’ve seen it happen to guys before. If a racer cheats on his wife, he’s out. Hell, it’s what happened to my dad. He got in a fight with some guy and they kicked him off the team.”

Her chest inflates. “Hmm . . .” Then she spins around, twisting out of my arms and heading straight toward my computer again.

“What are you doing? I don’t like that look,” I say, following her.

“No worries. I have an idea.”

I watch curiously as she navigates back to the webpage and scrolls down to the bottom. There’s some contact information and she searches it on some other website. Soon, she’s on a domain hosting page and it says the owner of the website is Jennifer Upton, a name I vaguely recognize from my freshman year of high school.

“If this works, you owe me a backrub,” she says, winking.

“All you have to do is ask,” I tell her, folding my arms across my chest while she types the number into her phone, after first loading an app that claims it’ll make her number private on their caller ID.

“What exactly are you going to say?” I ask.

She gives me a devilish grin. “It’s ringing,” she whispers. She waits a beat and then, in a super professional voice she says, “Hello, I am looking for Jennifer Upton. Excellent, this is Julie from District Attorney John Fuller’s office.”

I lift any eyebrow. I’m pretty sure she just made up that name—it’s not like we go around talking about DA’s all the time. Keanna’s lips curl into a smile. “It has come to our attention that a slanderous post involving our client, Jett Adams, has been posted to your website called Girlfriend Beware. I am giving you twelve hours to remove the content from your site or we will be proceeding with a warrant for your arrest, pending serious defamation charges.”

I put a fist over my mouth, trying not to laugh. Keanna nods, her eyes focused not on me, but on the task at hand. “I see. Okay well, it’s very much appreciated. I’ll alert the DA and verify that the content is removed and all charges will be dropped. If it’s not, however, I’m afraid there are no second chances. Okay. Mmhmm, thanks. Have a great day.”

She ends the call and her professional smile turns into a smirk. “Bitch believed the whole thing. It sounded like she was crying and she promised to remove the post and never mention your name again.”

My jaw hits the floor. “You were just bullshitting all of that legal jargon, right?”

She nods, an evil smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure DA’s don’t handle stuff like that,” she says, shrugging. “Luckily, I was betting on the fact that a girl who started a website like this in high school would now be just as stupid as she was back then.”

Keanna pretends to brush something off her shoulder. “Your problem is solved, my dear.”

“I love you,” I say. I throw my arms around her and lift her off her feet, swinging her around and around. She giggles and holds on tightly, burying her face into my neck.

When I set her back on the floor, she leans her head back and kisses me. I brush her wild hair back into place. “You are the greatest girlfriend in the world.”

Her eyes sparkle. “I know, I know.” She snorts and shakes her head. “I can’t believe that worked.”