Fireworks: A Holiday Bad Boy Romance (83 page)

“Yeah,” Abby says,
sighing. “I just hate seeing good guys get hurt, but with her, that’s what
always seems to happen.”

“Aren’t the two of you
friends?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” I tell
her. “It almost seems like you’re… never mind.”

“I just don’t think she
really appreciates a good man when she’s found one,” Abby says, adjusting her
bra while I try to pretend this isn’t just about the most uncomfortable I’ve
ever been talking to someone. “Some women never do.”

“Look, Abby,” I start, “I
think I see where this is going, and I don’t think it would be right.”

“What are you talking
about?” she asks, blinking at a prodigious rate and placing her open hand over
the top of her shirt. “I just saw you and wanted to say hi.”

“Okay,” I tell her.
“Well, it’s good to see you. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other—”

Abby grabs the back of my
head and kisses me hard. It happens so fast I don’t even process what’s
happening for a few seconds, but when I do, I manage to pull back and escape
her grip.

“What are you doing?” I
ask.

She’s not looking at me,
though.

Abby’s looking past me on
my right side with half a smile on her face, and she lifts her chin in a
reverse-nod.

I turn around and there,
about twenty feet away, but facing in this direction like she was walking over
here, is Mia.

“Wait!” I shout, but
she’s already turned around and she’s walking away.

There still aren’t all
that many people hanging around up here near the building, but those who are
all seem to be between Mia and me as I try to catch up with her, to explain
what happened.

I don’t give a shit,
though. I’m not giving up.

Chapter
Seventeen

Crescendo

Mia

I can hear Ian trying to
make his way through the growing crowd behind me, but I don’t stop walking.

Abs had been acting funny
for a little while now, but I never thought she’d do something like that. Not
to me.

My hands are shaking as I
pull the keys out of my pocket and unlock the door. I don’t get in, though.

Really, I shouldn’t be
mad at Ian: I saw what happened, and he didn’t seem to have anything to do with
it, except to pull away. It’s not even like we’re still together or anything.

Not that we’ve had that
talk.

Still, he should have
known she’d try something like that at some point from the way she went after
him at that party. I should have known.

How did I not know?

“Mia!” Ian shouts as he
jogs toward me, his skateboard nowhere in sight.

That breaks the back and
forth, and I get in my car and lock the doors.

My phone’s ringing, but
I’m pretty sure I don’t want to talk to whoever’s on the other end. I just need
to get out of here.

I throw the car in
reverse and go to pull out, but Ian steps behind me.

Cracking the window, I’m
telling him to get out of the way.

“Just let me talk to you
for a second,” he says. “That wasn’t what it looked like. I mean, yeah, she
kissed me, but I didn’t—”

I close my window and
just wait for him to move. At some point, he’s going to come up to my window,
and when he does that, I can back out.

I think he’s figured out
what I’m thinking, though, because he’s hesitating at the back of the car.
Finally, though, he starts coming around the driver’s side and I start to pull
out.

 
He presses himself against the car next to me
to avoid my mirror, and I’m out of the parking spot. Just as I’ve gotten the
car into drive and am starting to move forward, though, Ian jumps in front of
me, rather melodramatically and I stop.

“Move,” I tell him
through the windshield.

He doesn’t move.

I roll down my window and
repeat, “Move!”

“No,” he says. “Not until
you talk to me.”

I roll the window back up
and throw the car in reverse, but apparently I’m not speed demon enough because
Ian’s made his way around the car and is now blocking me from the back.

“Rookie move,” I mutter,
putting the car in drive and hitting the gas.

I try not to look in the
rearview mirror. I try, but I fail, and as soon as I see his shoulders slump as
he watches me drive off, suddenly, I don’t know what the heck I’m doing.

The fact of the matter is,
whether I listen to his explanation or not, I can’t just up and leave.

I pull into a parking
spot toward the edge of the lot, and I just sit for a minute, my hands on the
steering wheel, head against the headrest.

What am I supposed to do
now? Any move I make feels like a bad decision.

I know what happened was
Abby’s fault, and that Ian and I split up, but that doesn’t change the sick
feeling in my stomach after seeing it. It’s jealousy, stupid jealousy, but
knowing that doesn’t magically make it go away.

There’s no way this won’t
look pretty stupid, but I pull back out of my new parking spot and drive back
to the old one, putting the car in park and my head back once more, my eyes
closed.

There’s a knock on my
window and, even though I was expecting it, I still jump a little.

I roll down the window.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I say back.

“Listen,” he says, “what
happened back there—I didn’t want that. I’m not attracted to her, and as soon
as I realized what was happening, I—”

“Just save it,” I tell
him. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like we’re a thing.”

“I know,” he says, “but
that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like that.”

“Like what?” I ask
stupidly.

“For us to be a thing,”
he answers. “I know I’m the one that screwed this up, but what happened today,
that wasn’t my fault. She kicked a board in front of me as I was going past,
and I thought she was just kidding around, wanting to talk to me because you’re
her friend and you and I used to date, but—”

“I think I told you to
save it,” I tell him.

“Will you just get out
and talk to me?” he asks. “You’re obviously not leaving.”

He’s baiting me. I know
he’s baiting me. It doesn’t matter.

I throw my door open, the
car still idling, and I get out of the car and up in his face as people file
past us as they make their way through the parking lot.

“You’ve got excuses for
everything,” I tell him. “
That’s
why
we’re not together anymore. Rather than realize that you were on a vert ramp
for the first time ever and just chalk it up to experience, you had to take it
out on me, and I had nothing to do with your crappy performance! I didn’t even
think it was crappy. I didn’t care that you came in last on vert, I was just
proud of you for having the courage to do it. Why do you think I came today?”

“Why did you come today?”
he asks.

“I just told you,” I tell
him.

“Because you’re proud of
me?” he asks.

“No,” I answer. “Well,
yeah, that’s what I said, but—”

“Then what is it?” he
asks. “If you were just going to come and storm off, what’s the point?”

“Well, I didn’t expect to
see you standing there with my best friend on your face,” I retort.

“You know what your
problem is?” he asks and doesn’t even take a breath before continuing. “You
want things to go just the way you expect them to, and at the first indication
that something might not be going according to plan, you just bail on it. I may
be the reason we split up this last time, but how many times did you go back
and forth about us before we were even together?”

“That just shows that I
should have listened to my intuition in the first place,” I tell him.

“That’s bullshit!” he
says, his eyes narrowing. “You call it intuition, I call it fear. You never
intended to give us a fair shot, so when I flew off the handle, that was your
cue to leave.”

“Yeah,” I shout, “that
was my cue to leave because you were acting like a world-class asshole!”

“Wow, now it actually
starts coming out,” he says. “Your entire personality is based on you not
wanting to really engage with anyone, not in a real way, not in a vulnerable
way. You hardly ever swear because you’re afraid of offending somebody and
offending people draws attention. You kept acting like you wanted something to
happen with us until it started to, then you just cut and run. Yeah, Mia, we’re
not together right now because of something that I did. It was fucked up, I was
fucked up and I am truly, very sorry that I did that, and I have no excuse. All
I’m saying is that you don’t have a good excuse for how you’re acting, either.”

“You know what your
problem is?” I ask.

“Oh, this should be good.”

“Your problem is that you
try to wrap every little experience up in a tiny little bow, but things are
more complicated than that,” I tell him.

“You’re twenty,” he says.

“What does
that
have to do with anything?” I yell.

“Well,” he says in an
irritatingly calm voice, “I get that life is complicated, but I mean, it’s not
like you have a job or anything to worry about. Your dad takes care of all of
that, so you can carry on, floating through life, avoiding anything that might
just get a little too real. I don’t think it’s all that complicated.”

“Really?” I ask. “You’re
going to open the dad door?”

“Hey, I freely admit that
my dad’s an asshole,” he says. “Anyway, that’s not the point.”

“What
is
the point?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“The point,” he starts.
“The point is…”

“Really not a strong
moment for your argument, is it?” I ask.

“The point is…” he tries
again, but gives up. Instead, he’s trying Abby’s move, kissing me when that’s
about the last thing I expect.

I pull back and my hand
is already cocked back, ready to slap him in the face.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers.
“I shouldn’t have—”

My hand goes, but it’s
not a slap across his face, but my arms around his shoulders as I kiss him
back.

He’s surprised a moment,
but his arms are around me and whatever this is, it’s leaving me short of
breath already.

I’m so mad at him, so
completely frustrated with his point of view. I don’t even know if he’s right
or not or if that even matters right now.

We slowly pull away from
each other, and I can see his Adam’s apple dip and return as he swallows.

“What was—” he starts,
but I’m sick of trying to pick this apart.

He’s kissing my neck, and
the cars are still going by, dropping most of their occupants off at the front.

I pull away, and I’m
telling him, “Not here.”

I’m ready to give an
explanation, but he just nods and we’re walking now.

“Where?” I ask as I hit
the lock button on my dad’s door after taking the keys out of the ignition.

“Do you have anything?”
he asks.

“I always keep a couple
in my purse if that’s what you’re asking,” I tell him.

“What changed your—” he
starts.

“Oh, you’d probably
better shut up before I start thinking this through,” I warn and he’s smart
enough not to finish the question.

“I think I know a place,
but I have no idea whether we can get in or not,” he says, and he takes my
hand, leading me around to the side of the building. “We need to find a way
in,” he says.

I, rather cleverly,
decide to just walk up to the first side door we come to and pull. To be
honest, though, I wasn’t really expecting it to actually give way.

We’re through the door
and we try to stay behind things as much as possible, as there are a number of
people doing various work around the inside of the skate park.

I stopped him before he
finished his question, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have an answer.

What changed my mind is
that I figured out what he was trying to say when he was stammering about what
he thought the point of his argument was.

Figuring that out may or
may not change things in the long run, but for now at least, I’m just walking
behind him as he leads me by the hand along the inside perimeter of the
building.

We pass a couple of
people as we’re going, but they’re far too rushed to either notice or care that
we’re in there when we shouldn’t be.

“It’s back here,” Ian
says quietly as we come to the rear of the building.

When we reach the back
wall, we take a right and Ian lets go of my hand a moment to try the door to a
janitor’s closet, opening it easily and gesturing for me to go in.

I take a quick look
around. There are plenty of people in eyeshot if any of them were looking over
here.

None of them are.

I quickly make my way
into the janitor’s closet and Ian comes in after me, closing the door and
leaving us in near-total darkness.

“You sure?” he asks. “I
know you told me not to ask questions, but—”

“I’m sure,” I tell him
and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel his lips on mine.

He may not understand why
I changed my mind so quickly, but he’s not taking anything for granted. I can’t
see him, but I can feel him as his hands move over my body while mine are much
more direct.

I feel for the top of his
pants and unbutton them while Ian’s mouth moves from my mouth, over my cheek
and jaw to the curve where my shoulder meets my neck, and I think I finally
understand the thrill of knowing we could get caught at any time.

Ian’s pulling up my shirt
and kissing my breasts as I pull his pants halfway down, then his boxers and
now I’m stroking him, feeling him flex at my touch.

I’m starting to wonder
how much foreplay Ian really thinks we have time for when his hands finally
settle over the top of my pants, and he undresses me from the waist down.

The cool air on my bare
skin is titillating as its quickly contrasted by the warmth of his lips on my
knees, my upper thigh. When his mouth and tongue reach my pussy, I have to feel
around for something to hang onto so I don’t lose my balance.

“Oh my god,” I say, just
above a whisper.

His mouth leaves my skin,
but his fingers take over as he asks, “Where’s your purse?”

“Shit,” I mutter. “It’s
in the car.”

For a second, his hand
stops and although I can hear him breathing, when he removes his touch, I start
feeling the vertigo of near-darkness.