Trouble from the Start (3 page)

“I'll wait,” he said, and it was like a moment from a movie.
I'll wait until you're ready. I'll wait forever. I'll wait
until you're finished with college. I'll be right here.

“Till you get inside,” he finished.

I snapped back to reality.

Obviously I had not sobered at all if I thought Fletcher Thomas was going to wait for me any longer than two minutes. Or that he was even contemplating kissing me. Or that anything special was developing between us. As I backed up, his hand slid away, and I felt this pang of grief, as though I'd lost something. What was wrong with me?

“Uh, thanks for the ride,” I said.

“Anytime.” He didn't smile, just studied me somberly as though I'd somehow disappointed him.

“Be careful driving,” I said, backing up another step.

“Always am.”

I took two steps toward the house, stopped, swung back around. “Do you even know my name?”

“Einstein.”

I growled. He didn't know my name, didn't know who I was. He'd just seen a girl . . . only he hadn't made any moves. I was pretty sure I was going to be mortified when I was sober.

Then because I really didn't want to leave and I wasn't sure why, I turned on my heel and rushed toward the front door. I took the keys from my pocket, fumbled with them, and had to try three times to get the door unlocked. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, leaned
against it, and waited a minute, two, three—

Finally I heard Fletcher throttle the engine and leave.

And nearly jumped out of my skin when my cell phone barked. Kendall insisted I use that ringtone for her since she loved dogs.

“Yeah?” I whispered, trying to slow down my heartbeat.

“Where are you?” she asked harshly.

“Home.”

Mom stepped out of the family room where she'd probably been watching TV while waiting for my return. She always tried to be casual about it, like she couldn't wait another day to watch a particular movie or show, but I knew she was just concerned when I was out late at night.

“Hold up,” I said to Kendall. I smiled at Mom and said unnecessarily, “I'm home.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Oh, yeah. I'll tell you about it tomorrow. I'm heading to bed.”

“Sweet dreams.” I couldn't help but smile, because I had a thousand memories of her saying those words to me. She'd probably say them when I was fifty. And they would still fill me with a sense of warmth and security.

Heading up the stairs, I returned my attention to Kendall. “Didn't you get my text?”

“Yes, but it did
not
say the hot guy was Fletcher Thomas.”

“How do you know who it was?”

“Someone saw you leave with him. God, Avery, your reputation is toast.”

“Nothing happened.” I stepped into my bedroom, closed the door behind me, crossed over to my bed, and flopped backward onto it.

“No one is going to believe that. Everyone knows he doesn't give girls free rides.”

“Well, he did tonight. I drank too much. Threw up. Trust me. The most desperate-to-get-laid guy at school would not have found me attractive. And Fletcher isn't desperate.”

Silence. I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she said, “
Nothing
happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Wow, that's not the Fletcher I know.”

“Do you really know him?” I asked.

“I know his reputation. Same thing.”

Was it? Before tonight I would have agreed with her, but now I wasn't so sure. Because if he expected something in return when he gave a girl a ride—even if it was only a kiss—why hadn't he tried to collect from me? Why was I bothered that he hadn't? “Where are you anyway?” I asked Kendall, trying to get my mind off these disturbing thoughts.

“In the car with Jeremy. I got worried when I heard
about who you'd left with. Why didn't you come find us?”

“I didn't want to ruin your fun. Sounds like I did that anyway.”

“No. Jeremy was getting hungry. We're going to hit an all-night breakfast place. Want us to stop by and get you?”

“Thanks, but I'm really tired.”

“Okay, I'll see you at school Monday. One more week.”

I grinned. “Yeah, one more week.”

Setting the phone aside, I stared at the ceiling. I tried not to think about Fletcher, but suddenly he was all I could think about. I'd never really talked with him, but he was kind of funny, and I'd actually enjoyed bantering with him. Although I couldn't figure out why he'd approached me. I was known as being the good girl of school. Had he seen me as a challenge?

Suddenly I was confused. I hadn't wanted him to put any moves on me, but my pride was a little hurt that he hadn't. Even the bad boy of Memorial High didn't want to kiss me.

With a groan I rolled over and covered my head with a pillow. Graduation could not come soon enough.

I did know her name.

I'd known it since sophomore year when I'd gotten held back because I'd missed too many classes to meet the state requirement for attendance. Even when the counselor warned me that I couldn't have any more absences, I hadn't cared. I'd been too embarrassed to show up to school with bruises.

When I was a sophomore for the second time, I'd spotted her in the hallway, all bouncy and happy. Pretty in a simple way. She didn't paint her eyes or her lips or her cheeks. She didn't look like a plastic doll. She appeared real and touchable.

She'd said hi to me in the hallway as though I didn't have a reputation for trouble, as though I wasn't a year older than everyone else in the class, as though I mattered.

But then slowly the wariness crept in. I knew she was hearing the rumors, accepting them as truth. The smiles and greetings became fewer. Then they were completely gone.

I didn't know why I'd come to her rescue tonight. The irony was that she'd never realize that I had. Which was probably for the best.

Most girls loved when I gave them attention. But not Avery Watkins. She was smarter than four hundred and forty-eight people in our graduating class. And she threw around fancy words like
novice
. She was probably waiting for Mr. Right—someone equally good, naive, and smart, which I definitely was not.

We hadn't had many chances to talk over the years. Had no classes together, and other girls were usually occupying my time in the hallways. I hadn't expected Avery to stand up to me the way she did. Or maybe it had all been the booze talking, making her daring.

Didn't matter. It wasn't like we'd be crossing paths in the future.

I needed to stop thinking about her, figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of the night. I could always go back to the party, but it had been kind of boring, and none of the girls there had really caught my interest.

Except for Avery. And here I was thinking about her again. Her long, willowy body, the way her head fit in the
crook of my shoulder, the way I could slip my arm around her without having to hunch over. I liked that she was tall. I liked the way her blond hair caught the moonlight. There hadn't been enough light for me to see the color of her eyes, and I'd never paid particular attention before. But I'd still seen the irritation in them when I first approached her—and the sparkle when she climbed off my bike.

The sparkle made me want to kiss her. I almost had.

What a mistake that would have been.

The next morning, when I woke up, before I even opened my eyes, I felt like I was being tossed by great rolling waves. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, but the sensation wouldn't stop. Taking a deep breath, trying to center myself, I realized it was only my bed moving. I groaned. My head was way too fuzzy and my stomach could not handle this movement.

“Hey, squirt, stop it,” I ordered, glaring at Tyler. His dark hair did a couple of extra flops into his eyes even after he quit bouncing next to me on the mattress.

“Time for lunch.” He gave me a big-toothed grin. “Dad's grilling.”

I shifted slowly until I was sitting up and scrubbed my hands over my face. “Shouldn't you be out there helping him?”

He jerked his head up and down, but his big brown eyes were sparkling with mischief. “His summer project is here.”

Every summer my dad fostered an at-risk kid, helped them to see that life could be better than what they'd had. It was how I ended up with a brother eleven years younger than me. Tyler's mom had been into drugs. He lived with us a couple of summers ago, stole our hearts, and my parents adopted him. Usually, though, we only served as a halfway house.

“Girl or boy?” I asked, because I could tell Tyler was bursting with the news. Usually Dad waited until school was out. Maybe he wanted this kid to see my graduation as an example of what one could do. Who knew? All I really knew was that I felt too rotten to make nice to some little kid I'd never met before.

“Boy.” Tyler beamed. Then he scrunched up his face. “Doesn't say much, though.”

“You were quiet when you first came here,” I reminded him. “He just needs to get used to being around us.”

He shrugged his bony shoulders. “I guess.”

Reaching out, I ruffled his dark hair. “It'll be okay. Now I need to get dressed.”

“'Kay.” He slid off the bed and grumbled, “I don't think he'll play with me.”

“He may have never had toys or friends. We'll teach him.”

He wandered out of the room and, as usual, failed to close my door. As gingerly as possible, I clambered out of bed, shut the door, and headed into the bathroom that separated my bedroom from Tyler's. Briefly I wondered why anyone thought drinking alcohol was a good idea.

I turned on the shower, stood under a stream of hot water, and let it wash away the cobwebs. As I began to feel like maybe I wasn't going to die, my thoughts drifted to my last moments with Fletcher. Did he ever get within a foot of a girl and not kiss her? So why hadn't he kissed me?

Pressing my forehead to the tile, I wondered if I could be any more superficial—wanting a kiss just so I could say that I had one that wasn't prompted by a dumb game. But it had been more than that. For a few seconds after I got off his bike, it seemed a connection was forming between us. I really thought he was going to kiss me, that he wanted to kiss me. To my utter mortification, I had
wanted
him to kiss me. But why would he when I'd barfed in front of him?

I had to have misread him. He probably had no desire whatsoever to kiss me. I could only hope that I hadn't stood there looking all doe-eyed, like I was waiting for him to make a move. Thank goodness, I would probably never ever cross paths with him again. We had no classes together, and we had only one more week of school. The odds were in my favor that I'd never see him again.

Last night could be forgotten, would never come back to bite me in the butt.

I got out of the shower. After drying off quickly and pulling my blond hair back into a ponytail, I slipped into white shorts, a purple tank top, and sparkly flip-flops. Then I headed downstairs.

I always looked forward to Dad's summer projects. In his line of work, he encountered a lot of kids with less than stellar parents. Even so, being taken away from your family and familiar surroundings—no matter how much they might suck—wasn't an easy thing. The unknown was scary, so we worked to make the kids feel secure. Usually they were preteen. Dad would get them on a baseball team. Mom would take them clothes shopping. Tyler taught them to rock at video games. I took them to museums and parks, read to them, and offered them a sisterly ear whenever they needed it.

I hit the entryway and bounced through the dining room into the bright yellow kitchen. Sunlight streamed in through the windows. I could hear Mom's laughter outside. I opened the door that led onto the back deck and staggered to a stop—

Stared up into familiar brown eyes, although one was decorated with a mosaic of dark bruises that hadn't been there when he'd given me a ride home the night before.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, totally confused.
He'd ridden off—without giving me a kiss. I was never supposed to see him again. Ever.

“Fletcher's staying with us this summer,” Dad said.

All the breath left my body. Fletcher Thomas was Dad's project?

How had that happened? If he were a little kid, I would smile, hug him, and tell him that I was glad he was here. But this was Fletcher. A guy who had seen me at my worst. A guy who attracted trouble.

Keeping his eyes on me but shifting his stance, Fletcher looked as though he didn't know what to say any more than I did. My parents were studying us, and Tyler was looking up at me with expectation. I was supposed to be setting an example for him, so I smiled brightly and said, “It's . . . great to have you here.”

His eyes never leaving mine, he said, “Thanks.”

But what I heard was, “Liar.”

Mom touched his shoulder. “Why don't you relax by the pool while we finish getting lunch ready?”

He shifted his gaze to her. “Thanks.”

That seemed to be the extent of his vocabulary this morning. Not that I blamed him. I felt like I had dropped into an alternate universe. He probably felt the same. He gave me one last glance before heading for the pool. Mom took Tyler into the kitchen, since it was his job to help her get plates and condiments together. Dad wandered over to
his grill. I followed Dad.

“He's eighteen,” I told him as the burgers sizzled while he turned them, the smoke rising to tease my nostrils. “Legally an adult. Not your usual summer project.”

“He's not a project,” Dad said. “We're just providing him with an opportunity to get his act together. He'll stay in the FROG.”

The FROG was our nickname for the apartment over the garage or, as Dad had designated it, Free Room Over Garage. Visiting guests usually stayed there, so they could have a little more privacy.

I glanced over to where Fletcher was sprawled on a lounge chair by the pool. Even though he looked relaxed, I could see his muscles were bunched with tension.

“How well do you know him?” Dad asked.

I jerked my attention back to blue eyes the same shade as mine. I didn't want to reveal how well I'd gotten to know him last night, because I was pretty sure that Dad wouldn't approve of how Fletcher's bringing me home had come about. I shrugged. “We go to the same school, don't have the same classes. I've seen him around. What did you arrest him for?”

“We're not going to discuss how he came to my attention.” Dad flipped a burger onto a bun. “Make him feel welcome.”

My first instinct was to pull my cell phone from my
shorts pocket and text Kendall. She was not going to believe this.

Instead I wandered over to the pool and sat on the edge of the lounge chair that was next to Fletcher's. He was sporting sunglasses now, but I could still see his bruises fanning out over his cheek. “I should see the other guy, right?”

One corner of his mouth hitched up slightly. “Relax, Big Bang. I won't be staying long.”

It took everything within me not to growl. I wasn't ashamed of how smart I was, but it didn't define me. “If that's a reference to
The Big Bang Theory
then I guess you would be Penny.”

The curl of his lips hiked up a little higher. “Well played.”

I took satisfaction in having bested him. He was the last guy in the world that I cared about impressing, but somehow he totally messed up my thinking.

“Say, listen, you didn't mention to my dad about last night . . . um, you know, the
drinking
?” I had no success not squirming.

“I'm not a snitch.”

“Okay.” Not that I thought he was, but what did I know about him? “So why did you say you wouldn't be staying long?”

“Got plans.”

“What? You mean after graduation? What plans?”

“Heyyyy!” Tyler catapulted himself at me, nearly knocking me off the chair. I was used to his rambunctiousness, though, so I was able to quickly right myself. Scrambling behind me like a little monkey, he peered at Fletcher. “What happened to your eye?”

Fletcher adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Got into it with a werewolf.”

“Really?” Tyler asked eagerly.

“No,” I said. “Werewolves don't exist.”

“They might.”

“They don't, and you're not supposed to ask questions about someone's ouchie.”

“Why?”

“Because it's not polite.”

“I got an ouchie, too.” He stuck out his leg to reveal a Spider-Man bandage on his knee.

“Looks like it hurt,” Fletcher said.

Tyler nodded solemnly. “I cried. Did you?”

“Nah. Didn't hurt that bad.”

“You want a Wolverine Band-Aid?” Tyler asked. “It makes ouchies go away.”

“Thanks, but my magic sunglasses are taking care of it.”

Dad hollered that the burgers were ready. Tyler was rushing to the deck before I even stood up. Fletcher got up,
too. One of us misjudged the distance, because we were suddenly standing so close that I could feel the heat radiating off him. I felt a need to say something, anything. “You can use the pool whenever you want.”

“Don't have a bathing suit.”

“You don't need one.”

His eyebrows shot up over the frame of his sunglasses. “You want me to swim nude?”

“What? No! You can wear gym shorts or cutoffs. Or whatever.”

My face burning with the misunderstanding, I started walking toward the deck. He fell into step beside me.

“Sooo,” he began, “
you
ever go skinny-dipping in it?”

I couldn't look at him. My cheeks were probably apple red by now. “Uh, no. My parents wouldn't approve, and there's a little kid around.”

“Late at night, in the dark, who'd see?”

My stomach fluttered as an image flashed through my mind of him and me in the pool late at night sans clothes. But that was never going to happen, especially since he didn't even consider me kiss-worthy. I needed to regain control of this conversation that had somehow jumped the track. “Just because you don't get caught doesn't mean it's not wrong. And before Tyler interrupted us you were on the verge of telling me about your plans after graduation.”

“No, I wasn't, but nice try.”

“Sit here, Fletcher, sit here!” Tyler cried, patting the seat beside him, which caused relief to swamp me, because that meant Fletcher wouldn't be sitting by me.

Instead, he was across from me. Somehow that was worse. I was all too aware of him watching me. Lunch was burgers, hot dogs, and awkward conversation. Fletcher didn't open up to my parents any more than he opened up to me. But since they were both accustomed to dealing with troubled kids, they gave him space.

Cleanup was my chore. Since we'd used paper plates, it only took me about ten minutes—and it only took me that long because I spent at least a minute watching Fletcher walk in a loose-jointed way to the gate that took him to the side of the house and the studio apartment above the garage that was now designated as his.

Then I texted Kendall and told her I needed a trip to I-Scream—with just her.

“Wait a minute. Fletcher Thomas is your dad's summer project?” Kendall asked as she set her spoon into a malted-milk-balls mixer that included vanilla and chocolate ice cream and stared at me. “Did he know that last night? Is that why he gave you a ride home?”

I considered that, shook my head. “I don't think so. I think he crossed paths with Dad afterward because
Fletcher's face is all bruised like he got into a fight after he dropped me off.”

“What a loser.” She returned her attention to her ice cream.

I didn't like her harsh assessment. It didn't matter that twenty-four hours earlier I'd probably have thought the same thing. “He's kinda funny.”

“What? In a stand-up comic kind of way?”

“No.” I took a bite of my sundae. We were sitting in a booth that overlooked the street. I loved this place. Pictures of carousels and carousel horses were everywhere. I wasn't sure how that fit in with the theme of screaming for ice cream, but it was a bright shop that always made me happy. “He just says things that make me smile, even though I know I shouldn't. I never really had a conversation with him before. I mean, I've seen him around, knew who he was, knew his reputation for getting into trouble. But I don't know. He's just different than I expected. And he's really good with Tyler.” It had surprised me that he hadn't brushed Tyler off when he was pestering him about his bruises.

“I'm always seeing him with different girls, so he's a commitment-phobe. Unlike Jeremy, who is as loyal as a golden retriever.”

I laughed. “Would Jeremy appreciate that comparison?”

“Goldens are great. My favorite dog.” She chomped on her crunchy ice cream mixture.

“This week,” I teased.

“Yeah, I can be fickle about which dog is my favorite, but not about Jeremy. He is my everything. But we're not here to discuss me. We're here to discuss how you are going to survive a trouble magnet living in your house.” Her curly red hair flowed around her shoulders. In spite of her coloring, she didn't have a lot of freckles because she did everything to protect her skin from the sun.