Every Little Secret (Second Chances #2) (6 page)

“Yeah,” I murmur.

His voice continues to be a low rumble in my ear, but my thoughts are elsewhere. I notice when he pulls off me because I shiver at the lack of his body heat. He yanks on his boxers, then paces, the agitation showing in the tensing of his biceps and the curling of his fingers. Shit. I completely zoned out.

“Hey, come back, baby,” I say.

He laughs, dry and mocking. “Little too late for that. Isn’t it?”
 

I fight off the blinding numbness settling over me and grab for my clothes, but he dives and yanks them from me.
 

“What am I to you?” he says, the cold control of his voice scaring me. “Some male slut for you to screw while you’re thinking about something else? You fucked like a cold fish tonight.” He spreads his arms out to his attempt at romance. “All this. For you. To try and spark some kind of feeling in you. Any feeling.”

I grab the blanket and cover my body. “You call this romance?” My fury grows with each passing second. Tired of feeling used. Tired of faking it for him. Tired of all his shit. Tired of the disappointment. “Lighting some candles and then getting right to the fucking part of the night is not romance. If I screwed like a cold fish and, by the way fish don’t fuck, then look in the damn mirror. Maybe it’s more about you than it is about me. But thanks for thinking of me.”
 

The words hover in the cooling air, echoing through the yard. Immediately, I want to take them back. I suck in a breath and then a few more as I fear his retaliation at my insults. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?

His eyes are blank, his body rigid. With jerky movements he dresses back in his jeans and T-shirt. He slides into his leather jacket. The glitter of rage in his eyes is unmistakable. The once soft light now reveals the hard lines and shadows of his face.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. And I mean it. Somehow I wish I could be the person he wants and needs.
 

He fumbles inside his jacket, then pulls out some bills. He holds them up and they flap slightly in his fingers from the breeze. “Thanks for the easy lay.” He drops the bills and they float and flutter slowly to the ground, landing at my feet. “That’s about all you’re worth.” Then he leaves, the screen door slamming behind him.
 

A couple minutes later, his car roars to life, and he screeches out of the driveway, leaving me here with no way back. I slump to the ground and wrap the blanket even closer around my body. The rough material meant for the beach rubs against my skin.
 

It’s all my fault. This is me. Most girls would be thrilled with his romantic efforts. They’d take one look at the candles and the effort and they’d turn to a hot shivering mess under his fingertips, not having to fake their way through sex and an orgasm.
 

 
The candles burn down to nubs, wax dripping like tears. A couple of them go out. I sigh. I’ll have to walk home or something. Then I realize he took my clothes with him. I cross the patio and try to open the door. It’s locked. He locked me out, naked with nothing but a blanket.
 

My arms shake. I close my eyes in an attempt to control my rapid breathing and elevated heart rate. It doesn’t work. With the moon and stars as my only witness I whip the blanket off and throw it across the patio.

“Asshole!” I scream.
 

I’m naked and I don’t care. I slide and sit, my butt cold and numb. Shivers rack my body. What the hell am I supposed to do? I let my head drop to my knees. I’m not sure how much time passes while I soak in my self pity.

I smell the smoke first. A heavy odor like something’s burning. I jerk my head up. Flames shoot up from the left side of the blanket where I’d thrown it. Smoke curls up from the other side. A candle still lit touches the tassels on the edge of the blanket. A second tiny flame shoots up, growing bigger every second.
 

I jump into action and grab the corner of the blanket closest to me and yank it away. But that drags it over a couple other candles. The flame grows.
 

I panic and run with it across the yard and into the dewy grass. I fold it over onto itself and jerk it around until the flame is put out. Half the blanket is blackened. Black smoke dissipates and disappears into the sky. I lift it up by the edges, trying to find a section that is salvageable, to keep me warm, but there’s nothing, not even a corner. It hits me that I have nothing left to hide with. I can’t even walk down the street. Shit. I didn’t want to do this but there’s only one person who will help me with no questions asked.

I find my purse. Thank God it was hidden under the blanket or Chad might’ve taken that too. I punch in Noah’s number and then find a spot behind a bush. With my anger fading into panic, my complete and utter nudity appalls me. What if the owners come home?

His phone rings and rings and goes to voice mail. I hang up. Shit.
 

I guess I’ll keep trying until I get through to him.

Noah

Lame. Totally. Lame. It’s Friday night and I’m chowing down on pizza. With my parents. It’s been our routine. They’ve hinted more than once that I can break tradition, fly the coop. That maybe I should live on campus. I’d be sure to meet friends…maybe a nice girl that way. They equate happiness forever in life with finding the right girl and settling down.
 

I’m not sure what happiness looks like. I’ll know it when I find it.

The movie tonight is one of my mom’s romantic comedies. I finish the pizza but can’t focus on the actors flashing across the screen. My mind wanders to Carly and our secret friendship, wondering if I played right into her schemes by agreeing to that.
 

My phone vibrates.

Tate
:
Hey, man. Come party with me
.

I put my phone to the side. Mom’s gaze burns into me, her curiosity overflowing. The pressure to respond weighs heavily. I tell a half-truth. “It’s Tate.”

“Yes?” Mom leans forward, her eyes asking about ten more questions.

“Guess I’m going to head out.”

She smiles, her face radiating peace and happiness. Then she leans back and acts like she doesn’t really care. “Okay, honey. Have a good time. Be careful.”
 

“Sure.”

Be careful? I grab my jacket and head out to my beat-up car. I start driving, a plan forming. I’ve been careful for the past six years. Too careful. From who I talk to, what parties I go to, and which contacts I add to my phone. So careful that it spread into Haley’s life and I tried to make her life careful too.

Maybe I need to let loose and do something crazy tonight. Carly did say that our meetings should be accidental and not planned. I drum my fingers against the wheel, my nerves shooting in my stomach. Is this what she meant? I park on the side of the road, not too close to her dorm. She’s probably not there. She could be with Chad, but I feel reckless. Possibly even stupid.
 

I open the door and then I’m walking down the sidewalk, nearing her dorm. I pick up several pebbles and stick them in my pocket, letting them roll between my fingers. This could be about the stupidest thing ever.

I count up the number of windows and throw a pebble at her window. My aim is way off and I hit the wrong window. It feels like everyone’s watching and laughing at me hidden behind trees and peeking around them. No one opens the window and yells at me.

I throw another pebble and hit her window. Then another. And another. The exhilaration that came with my wild plan starts deflating. “Shit.” I’m such an idiot. I turn and head back to my car.

Me
:
Where are you
?

Tate gives me directions to a party right off campus. I could walk but drive anyway. Not wanting to leave any evidence of my stupidity behind. The party, the music, the smell of booze and sweat welcomes me. Memories of my past life.

“Hey man.” Tate slaps my back.
 

Then it’s all over. He welcomes me into this circle of guys licking shots off some girl’s stomach. The alcohol burns my throat, numbing. As the next hour passes, the feeling spreads as I throw back a few more shots. The shame of throwing pebbles at Carly’s window fades even though no one knows. But along with the numbness and the letting go of current problems with girls, past ones break through.

***

Secrets. That’s what Dalia wants. It turns her on. And after a few minutes in the closet with her, I’m a babbling idiot, willing to agree to just about anything. But the fun and games, the passionate make-outs happen on her timetable.
 

Her smile, the lust in her eyes, and the sway of her hips draw my attention away from the obvious, that she could be totally jerking me around. But Noah, the jock, the star soccer player, doesn’t need caution. That would tarnish his playboy image.

It has been two weeks. I need to see Dalia, feel her against me, grunt and groan in the dark while exploring the ins and outs of her body. I decide to seek her out. I approach her house and knock on the door. No one answers.

I go to different parties and try to slip her name into the conversation to see if anyone knows where she is. I come up with nothing.

I get drunk instead.

***

Tate punches my arm. “Your turn, asshole.”
 

I take another shot. “I’m done.”
 

It’s been several hours but the memories squelch any desire to party. The fact that we were secret friends should’ve been the first clue with Dalia. I need to break off this whole secret thing with Carly. It’s a repeat of before and I’m falling for it like the same clueless dick I was in high school.
 

“I’m heading out.”

“You okay to drive?”

“I’ll walk it off.”

And I do. I wander back onto the campus while my buzz fades. I like this quiet on the narrow roads. Everyone is somewhere partying but the music fades to nothing and I’m left alone with my thoughts. Carly wasn’t home. Dalia hadn’t been home. Is Carly lying too? Should it matter? Shouldn’t someone be there to watch out for her?

Shit.

I’m being careful again. Too careful. Letting it spread to other people in my life. I promised Haley I wouldn’t do that again after I messed with her life. I make my way to the athletic fields and a feeling of loss and nostalgia comes over me.

The dew glitters on the wet grass. A lone soccer ball sits in the middle of the field. I stand and stare at it, losing myself in the past, trying not to remember the dreams, my dreams of playing in college and going semi-pro and maybe pro. I was careful at one point, not to let anything distract me from those plans. Obviously, I wasn’t careful enough.

I turn my back on that part of my life and head back to my car. The alcohol has left my head throbbing and my mouth like sawdust. All I want to do is sleep.
 

The next morning I slap my alarm clock off and groan. There was more than one reason I chose to stop partying. I fumble for my phone and check the messages. Five missed texts. From Carly.

Panic strangles my throat and I shoot straight up. I flick through the messages. They all say the same thing.
I need help. Call me. Where are you
?

Fuck. Something’s wrong. I flash back to the night on the beach. What if she did something stupid again? I punch in her number. She answers with a shaky hello.

“Carly? Are you okay?”

“Can you come get me?”

“Where are you? I’m on my way.”
 

“I don’t know.”

“Can you find out?”

She drops the phone. Minutes later she’s back on. “253 Ocean Lane.”
 

Shit. The ocean again.

“And can you bring me some clothes? And something hot to drink?”
 

“Clothes?” All sorts of horrible scenarios flash through my head as to why she needs clothes. “Did you swim in the ocean again?”

“No…just please…”

“Sure thing. I’m on my way.” I grab sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I pick up a hot drink on the way at a gas station. What happened? Something’s off with her boyfriend. He’d better not have anything to do with this. If he’s hurt her in any way then he’ll feel my fist on his face.
 

I whip into the driveway. The house is a ramshackle mess. I run up and bang on the front door. “Carly!” I yell, ready to kick through the door.

My phone vibrates.

Carly: Backyard.
 

I creep along the side of the house. I peer in the windows but the lights are off and it seems unused.
 

“Hey, you there?” I call over the fence.

“Just throw the clothes and wait in the car.” Her voice shakes.

I go to do just that but I hesitate. Instead I walk into the backyard.

She squeals and darts behind a bush. I see the flash of bare flesh before she hides behind a scrawny bush that doesn’t quite do the job.

“Don’t look!” she screams.

At first I listen to her. I scour the scene and take in the remains of an evening seduction: blanket and candles. But the blanket is blackened, like someone lit it on fire. Then I’m drawn back to her. I can’t help it. I haven’t seen a girl like this in a long time and I’m mesmerized. She covers her girl parts but the soft curves and swells intoxicate me.
 

“Noah!”

The tone of her voice slaps me back into the moment. I cough. “Sorry about that.”

“So turn around, jackhole.”
 

I turn, the clothes still in my grip. “Before I leave the clothes and give you privacy I want to know something.”
 

“What?” Her voice is small and vulnerable.
 

“Did Chad have something to do with this?”

“Yes.”
 

“Did he hurt you?” Again, the hesitation. My rage skyrockets, the trembling taking over. “Tell me now.”

“Not like that. Don’t freak out. He didn’t hurt me physically or anything.”

“Then what the hell happened? Why don’t you have clothes on?”
 

“What the fuck, Noah? Do I have to spell out what happens between a boy and a girl?”