Until You (Fall Away Series) (26 page)

I decided to start slow and opened her bedside table drawer instead.

There was some hand lotion, a small bowl full of rubber bands, some candy, and…a book.

I pinched my eyebrows and picked up the tattered, faded paperback that I hadn’t seen in years, but it seemed like just yesterday.

Memories poured in all at once.

Tate stuffing it in her backpack on her first day of junior high.

Tate trying to read some poem about Abraham Lincoln to me after swimming at the lake.

Tate’s dad taping the binding when Madman had run off with it.

The book—
Leaves of Grass
by Walt Whitman—was older. Like twenty years. It had belonged to her mom, and Tate always kept it close. She used to take it with her anytime she left town for a trip.

Flipping through the pages, I searched for the poem—the only poem—that I liked. I couldn’t remember the name, but I remember she’d underlined the passage.

No sooner had I started flipping through when some pictures spilled out. I forgot the book and picked up the photos off my lap instead.

My heart pounded in the back of my throat.

Jesus.

It was us.

The pictures were of her and me. There were two, both when we were twelve or thirteen, and a ton of fucking emotions fell on me at once.

Tate kept pictures of me?

They were in her mother’s book that she treasured.

And she’d most likely taken these to France with her along with the book that held them.

I shook my head, my feet feeling like they were stuck in a bucket of cement.

She kept pictures of us like I kept pictures of us, and I smiled, feeling like I’d just won something.

And then the tiptoeing-through-the-fucking-tulips feeling that I was enjoying crashed to the ground as soon as I spied a black lace bra lying on her dresser. The tingling sensation of someone roller skating across my heart moved south, and now, I wanted to leave here in search of her.

My jaw moved, and I almost bit my tongue to keep my dick in check.

Well, well, well…Tate wore lingerie.

Her sleek body dressed in black lace blanketed my brain, and then I blinked.

Wait.

Realization dawned.

Tate wore lingerie.

Tate. Wore. Fucking. Lingerie!

What the hell for? And for who?

I ran a rough hand through my hair and felt the sweat on my forehead.

Fuck it.

Let her dad give her some money. That’s what every other teenager wants for their birthday, isn’t it?

I threw the book back into the drawer, stalked out of the room and down the stairs, and out the front door.

I don’t even remember driving to school.

The images of Tate wearing lingerie for some needledick asswipe were the only things I saw for a while.

My morning classes passed in a fog. I either sat there with my arms crossed and my eyes on my desk top, ignoring those around me. By fourth period, I gripped my desk, chair, or anything else to keep my ass from storming into her French class and picking a fight.

Teachers didn’t call on me, so I didn’t worry about paying attention. My grades stayed up, and I smarted off when they did ask me questions, so they ended up saving themselves the trouble of engaging me.

I took my time getting to lunch.

She would be there, and I didn’t want to sit back and watch us both try to ignore each other when I just wanted her next to me.

“Tatum Brandt!”

What the…?

I halted in the lunchroom at the sound of someone calling her name.

I had spied Sam and his friend Gunnar at our usual table, and I’d just gotten done grabbing a drink and sandwich when I’d heard a low voice yelling very loudly.

I zoned in on Madoc, facing away from me, fucking kneeling in the middle of the room!

“Will you please go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he shouted, and when I followed where he was looking, I clenched my fingers, destroying the sandwich in my hand.

Shiiiit.

A very surprised Tate had turned around, her shoulders tensed and eyes avoiding everyone else’s like she was more annoyed than embarrassed.

Tate couldn’t stand Madoc.

Oh, what the hell was he doing now?

The packed cafeteria hushed to a silence.

Madoc walked on his knees up to Tate and took her hand.

A few giggles sounded around the room, and a push and pull force was battling in my limbs.

Move! He’s pursuing her. He’s always wanted her.

No, stay put. He’s your friend. He wouldn’t do that.

“Please, please! Don’t say no. I need you,” he yelled, more to the audience than Tate, and everyone erupted in laughs and cheers, egging him on.

“Please, let’s make this work. I’m sorry for everything,” he continued, and I could see Tate looking down at him, wide-eyed and flushed, like she was sick.

Sick and pissed.

She mumbled something to him I couldn’t hear, and then he shouted, “But the baby needs a father!”

WHAT. THE. FUCK?

My stomach dropped, and everything in the room turned red.

Tate’s face fell, and the crowd hollered their enjoyment of Madoc’s spectacle.

Her lips moved, but only just barely.

What the hell was she saying to him?

He seemed fucking pleased, because he stood up and enveloped her in his arms, swinging her around to the delight of the audience.

Everyone whistled and applauded, and I threw my lunch in the trash without even looking.

She’d said yes?

I turned around and stalked out before he’d even put her down.

“Goddammit!” Madoc howled as his hand shot up to his face, and he crashed backwards to the row of lockers behind him.

We shared P.E. together, and I hadn’t even waited for him to make eye contact before I’d run up and clocked him right in the eye.

The class in the locker room got out of the way, and I stepped over the bench to sit down in front of my best friend who’d slid to the floor.

I rested my elbows on top of my knees and looked down at him.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed out, and it was the truth. “But you do know you’re pushing me, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, squinting with one hand over his eye.

He always pushed me, and it pissed me off, but I knew why he was doing it. He wanted me to act. To grovel at Tate’s feet and make her want me.

But she’d said yes.

That pissed me off, too.

Me not even thinking to ask her to the dance myself pissed me off.

I hated dances.

I hated dancing.

But thanks to me, Tate didn’t go to things like that in the past, and she obviously wanted to.

A bitter taste settled in my mouth.

It’s the taste you get right before your choke down a mouthful of pride.

“Hey, Dr. Porter.” I ran into my sophomore year Chemistry teacher in the hallway after school. “Is Tatum Brandt working in the lab today?” I gestured to the door behind him.

“Yes,” he blurted out, wide-eyed and looking oddly relieved to see me. “She is. But it just occurred to me that she’s alone. Are you free? Would you mind spotting her? I’m usually there, but I have a meeting.”

“Alone?” My jaw twitched with a pent-up smile. “No problem.”

He kept walking, and I opened the lab door, my heart already rushing with the promise of the kind of trouble I wanted to drown in.

The room was empty, but I heard shuffling and clattering coming from the supply closet, so I took the seat at the teacher’s table and propped my feet up, waiting for her.

The lab was on the larger side of the classrooms at the school. It held about twelve tables with two to three seats per table. The tops were lined with beakers and flasks, burners and sinks.

I liked the tables.

They were a good height.

I half-laughed, half-sighed at the images floating through my head.

Jesus Christ.

I’d never fantasized about a girl the way I did with Tate, but I was getting ahead of myself. She may never let me get to second base again, let alone third.

Running my hands through my hair, I hooked my fingers behind my head and tried thinking about the Lifetime Movie Channel to keep my dick in check.

The closet door swung open, and Tate stepped out with a crate of supplies in her arms.

Her hair was parted in the middle today, and it flowed around her face and body, partially obscuring her eyes.

But she saw me.

Even through the blonde wisps, I could pick out the storm.

Her legs stilled, and she looked surprised, unnerved, and a little pissed.

We had the same effect on each other.

“Not now, Jared. I’m busy,” she warned as she carried her crate to a table off to my right. Her tone was steady and curt.

She was putting me in my place.

“I know. I came to help you.”

It was a lie, but I guess I could help her. I knew my shit in Chemistry as well as Math. It was the touchy feely subjects like English and Psychology that bit my ass.

“Help me?” Her eyes lit up like I’d said the most ridiculous thing. “I don’t need help.”

“I wasn’t asking if you did,” I shot back.

“No, you’re just assuming,” she retorted, not meeting my eyes as she continued to unload her supplies.

“Not at all. I know what you can do.” My voice cracked with amusement, but I wanted her to look at me.

“I thought that if we’re going to be friends,” I continued, “this might be a good place to start.”

Getting off my chair, I walked towards her, hoping she would know I wanted anything but friendship.

“I mean…” I kept going when she didn’t say anything. “It’s not like we’re going to be able to go back to climbing trees and having sleepovers, is it?”

Her chest filled with a quiet breath, and she stopped unloading for a split second. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought she’d let me plant her ass on the counter and let me show her how a sleepover between us would work.

But then she narrowed her eyes and talked more with her teeth than her lips. “Like I said, I don’t need help.”

“Like I said, I wasn’t asking,” I repeated, not missing a beat. “Did you think that Porter was going to let you conduct experiments with fire by yourself?” I had no idea what her experiment was, but after catching sight of some of her materials and Porter’s apprehension about leaving her alone, I gathered that it would involve the burners.

“How do you know about my experiment? And who said we’re going to be friends?” she sneered before bending down to get something out of her bag. “You know, maybe too much damage has been done. I know you’ve apologized, but it’s not so easy for me.”

This was not the Tate I knew. Tate was tough. Even when I’d made her cry over the years with my pranks, she held her head high and moved on.

Tate didn’t need grand gestures. Did she?

“You’re not getting girly on me, are you?” I was trying at sarcasm, but I wanted a fucking miracle.

Yes, Jared. Thank you for apologizing, and I forgive you. Let’s move on.

That’s what I really wanted.

But she buried her face in her binder and ignored me. Or tried to look like she was ignoring me.