Brady Remington Landed Me in Jail (5 page)

I pushed the fear at bay and enjoyed just having Brady close. For now.

When my phone rang at three thirty in the morning, I croaked, "Brady?"

A husky laugh was on the other end. Not Brady.

"I was calling you, sweet cheeks, to see if he was there."

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I must've still been asleep because I could've sworn that Clarissa had called me. Clarissa Cumberly had never called me in my life.

"What?" I rested against the headboard behind me. It felt cool to the touch and I looked to my side. My window had been left open and a breeze wafted through the curtains. That's when I realized that I was still in my clothes; I had collapsed in bed after breakfast.

That'd been in the morning. It wasn't morning anymore. Moonlight filtered into my room. It sent a soft glow into my room. I looked in the mirror and my eyes popped out at the nest on top of my head. As I patted at it, my eyes shifted to the left and my bed moved at the same time. Gasping, I dropped the phone and started to lurch out of bed. Before I could, Brady flipped on his stomach and threw an arm to land on my lap…Brady was still in bed with me.

When my heart rate slowed again, I looked at the clock and saw it was four minutes after midnight. I must've assumed it was three in the morning. Which still begged the question—why was Clarissa calling me? More importantly, why was Brady still in bed with me? I poked at him and then jumped when I heard a voice in the covers. I fumbled through the blankets and grabbed my phone again.

"…Rayna!"

"Uh…?" Brady grunted and rolled onto his back. He raked a hand through his hair before he opened his eyes and stared at me. A glaze of drowsiness was evident.

"Rayna…Rayna…" Clarissa's voice was muffled against my hand.

I stared, frozen, as he squinted and then looked at the phone before he took it from me. "Cumberly?"

"Brady!"

She sounded sexy. I had a nest on my head.

Brady pushed up from the bed and scooted next to me.

When I heard him laugh in return, I couldn't take it. I scrambled from the bed, grabbed a robe, and ducked into the hallway. Turning into the bathroom, I saw my grandparent's door was closed and their sounds of snoring blasted through it. Relieved, I stepped underneath the shower spray.

When I got out of the shower, I saw that the bathroom fan hadn't worked well. The mirror was still steamed, so my reflection was fuzzy, but after I wiped a small patch away, I saw that I didn't look
that
ridiculous, not as bad as I had in my room. My hair was normally a blondish brown, but it looked really dark when it was wet. The ends just teased the tops of my shoulders. As I tucked my hair behind my ears, I leaned closer and inspected the rest of my face.

Viola always talked about how pretty my eyes were. They were dark brown, but I knew it was my eyelashes she praised. They were long and naturally curved to frame my eyes. I got my eyelashes from my mother…wherever she was. Then there were my big lips. I got those from my dad. I must've because my mother had thin lips.

Once I overheard Brady talking about a girl's lips. He said they were "come screw me lips." The other guy had laughed, but when I rounded the corner both of them had stared in horror. I never figured out who they'd been talking about, but as I leaned closer I wondered if I had those lips. Maybe. Was that why IT had happened? Or was Brady just hurting and needed comfort? Did he choose me because I was there, convenient?

For whatever his reason was, we had sex. I wasn't a virgin anymore. My reason…I sucked in my breath. I didn't want to think about that.

I touched my throat and wondered…did I look different? Had my grandmother noticed and chosen not to say anything? Did Brady think of me differently?

I didn't really feel different, though a little sore.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

I jumped, but managed to stifle a quick scream. I should've figured that Brady would get impatient, or maybe I woke up my grandparents.

I took one last breath, raked my fingers through my hair, and pulled my robe tight before I opened the door. Brady straightened from the doorframe and whispered, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?" I whispered back.

He shrugged and went into my bedroom. I followed, but not before I heard two different sets of snores.

"What'd Clarissa want?" When I went in I pretended to look through my closet. I had no idea what I was looking for; I just needed something to do with my back to him. I couldn't look, but I felt his gaze on my back. Then the bed dipped under his weight as he sat down. I peeked over my shoulder and saw he was glaring at me. He had placed his hands back and was resting on his arms, but he was staring right at me.

"What?" I held something against my body, but I had no idea what it was.

"You're freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out."

"You are. You totally are." He nodded again, as if it made perfect sense to him.

"Don't do that! Stop!" But I felt my arms start to shake and then my entire body. I was suddenly cold, really cold.

"This is
the talk
. This is when we talk about it, isn't it?" Brady murmured to himself as he shook his head.

"We're not talking," I managed through chattering teeth.

"Look at you." He lifted a hand to me. "You're totally freaking out."

"I am not!"

"Shh!" He glanced at the door and then turned on the fan. As the sound dulled the air, he crossed to me and grasped my elbow to pull me down on the bed beside him.

I did not lie down. I sat. I only sat, perched on the end.

"Okay…" One of his hands lifted to take mine, but I scurried back. I stopped when I hit the wall and that was how we sat. I was against the wall. Brady was turned towards me with one of his hands in the air.

A confounded look came across his face, but his eyes searched mine for a moment. I wasn't sure what he read in my eyes, maybe panic, but he laid his hand on his leg. I watched, fascinated, as his fingers curled into his leg like he was trying to restrain himself. His other hand was clenched into his other leg. His shoulder muscles were bunched together tightly. I noticed that his hair was wet and a droplet of water slid down the back of his neck, gliding over his muscles.

"Did you take a shower?"

"What?" Brady asked, distracted.

"You took a shower. Did you go downstairs?" Grandpa had his own shower in the basement.

"Uh…yeah. I smelled." Brady stared at something on my floor.

I looked, but couldn't see what it was.

Then my eyes widened in terror when I saw it was a pair of pink underpants that had fallen off the pile of laundry. It caught on a drawer on my desk and hung there, on display. I sucked in my breath and hurled off the bed to snatch it up. When I turned back, Brady's eyes were laughing at me, but he didn't say anything.

That's when I lost it. The fright. The panic. The "freak out" all vanished as one chuckle wracked through my body. Pretty soon, I couldn't stop the giggles. Brady joined in and both of us were laughing until I clamped a hand over my mouth to quiet myself. Tears blinded me for a moment, but they weren't those types of tears. I kept laughing, silent now, and I wiped them clear. I blinked to keep more from appearing. Brady's shoulders shook in laughter.

"Okay…" I murmured when I had resumed enough control to form sentences. I moved and sat beside him again, but this time I knew that I wouldn't scamper off. "I won't do that again. I promise." I patted his knee.

"Thanks." He caught my hand. "I don't like having my best friend scared of me."

Brady lifted his blue eyes to mine and I was startled to see how sombre they were. He'd just been laughing, but…

"You were scared of me, Rayna. Don't do that again."

I couldn't look away. Somehow, my hand found its way to the side of his face and it cupped his cheek. "I won't."

"Promise." His hand rested on top of mine.

"Promise." I could barely talk.

"Okay."

"Is it hot in here?"

He chuckled. "I don't think it's the room, Rayna."

I suddenly missed the nights when I curled up with a book. "So…uh…what did Clarissa want?"

Brady yawned as he ran his fingers through his soft blonde buzz cut.

I loved his hair. My fingers itched to replace his hand and curl his hair around them. Whoa—change the mind topic.

"…her place tonight. I told her that I'd ask you…"

I ripped my gaze from his hair and jumped when I saw a knowing glint in his eyes. Brady smirked.

"What?"

He just shook his head. "You need to get control of yourself. Or else we're going to get in more trouble."

My jaw dropped, but I looked away. We both knew what he meant. "Okay, so what were you saying?"

"I was saying that Clarissa's having a party tonight at her dad's place. I left my cell at the police station or something. She called here because she thought you might know where I was. You want to go?"

"What?" I swung my gaze back to him. He was very close, very, very close. I gulped, itching to move back, but I wouldn't. I could control myself.

"I said…" His lips quirked upwards. "…do you want to go to Clarissa's party?"

"Does Clarissa want me to go?"

"Yeah, actually. She told me to make sure you came. It's graduation week. You need to let loose and celebrate. Plus, you'll keep me out of trouble."

Not at this rate. I almost said it, but I clamped my lips shut and kept them that way. Brady nudged me with his shoulder. "So? What do you think?"

"I don't know." I eyed my door. "You heard Viola. If she comes in and finds me gone again she's going to ground me."

"No, she won't. She'll ground me, but she won't ground you. She loved that you stayed out all night with me. Your grandmother is worried about you. She thinks you're never going to loosen up and get married someday."

That was true. She'd hinted enough about it, but I ignored her. A person would have to have sex to get married…and the thought of me
ever
having sex had been like a hot air balloon on a windy day. Something you might look at, but never touch.

I shifted under his gaze.

Brady tightened his lips when he saw that I pulled my robe closer around me, but he didn't say anything. I jerked a shoulder and mumbled, "I don't even know what to wear. I can't wear what I usually do."

"You mean the turtlenecks and baggy sweaters?" Brady nudged my leg this time.

I ducked my head, but couldn't stop a small smile. "You know what I mean. I can't wear that to one of her parties." My wardrobe choices weren't that bad. A baggy sweater, but not a turtleneck. Ever.

"You make it sound like Clarissa is an alien or something." Brady leaned back on his elbows. He kicked his legs in front of him and just like that, the room had transferred from being hot and intimate to being the same as always. Brady was back in charge again. He grinned, cockily, when I stood in front of him.

"You know what I mean," I muttered and scrutinized my closet. I had nothing that would pass as semi-attractive.

"No, I don't, Ray. You've always been weird about Cumberly. Why is that?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I have. It bothers her. She doesn't think you like her."

I swung back; eyebrows arched, and stared at him.

Brady liked to use gel in his buzz cut so that his short hairs stuck up a little, but after his shower his hair had already dried and looked soft to the touch. He looked like a little boy, complete with two dimples as he grinned back at me. He was different when he was with me. If we'd been at the party, he would've had the hard edgy look to him. He liked his tattoos to be seen, but I saw that he had pulled a blanket to cover the tribal tattoo on his stomach. The one on his shoulder was hiding in the shadows.

"It's not that I don't like her. It's just that…she's one of them."

"One of what?"

"You know. Your girlfriends."

"My what?"

"Your girlfriends." I didn't think that I needed to spell it out. "She's…I don't know. She's cool and confident and…she's not the type of person that I'm friends with."

"You're friends with me." His voice was quiet.

The air shifted again. Here we were…I knew that I needed to tread lightly, very lightly. I met his gaze, swallowed over a knot in my throat, and felt that we were talking about something different.

"You're different. I mean…we're not normal, Brady."

A scowl formed at his mouth. "What are you talking about? We're not normal?"

"You know—you're…one of them and I'm…not."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." He threw himself off the bed and stalked towards me. "You are just like me. You are no different than me. You are no different from Clarissa."

"Yeah, but…" I was pressed against the doorframe as Brady towered over me. "I'm not one of your girlfriends."

His chest was in front of mine. Another step, just an inch, and we'd be pressed against each other. His gaze was glued to my lips. I kept looking from his eyes to his lips, but then I felt something strange wash over me when he murmured, throatily, "You're more than that."