“You really are a poet,” is how she replies.
I shake my head. “That wasn’t poetry. I don’t know what it was. I’m fucked up. If you don’t hurry and check my hand, I might pass out on you. Unless you think of a way to keep me awake…”
I can tell by the set of her jaw that I’ve disappointed her, but it doesn’t matter. I’m used to it. It should be no different with her… and yet it is. I do care that I’ve let her down, but I don’t know how to fix it, how to step out from behind the mask.
Delaney sighs and sits on the bed. She’s so gentle as she takes my bandage off that I can’t help but study her. People aren’t usually careful with me. Dad wasn’t careful when he beat my ass, unless you count being careful not to leave marks that could be seen.
Ash was the only one who was ever gentle. He used to get pissed if I’d kill a bug. We would bring spiders outside to set them free so he wouldn’t cry.
I close my eyes, willing Ash out of my mind. I just want a break, some kind of fucking reprieve from myself and my past.
“All done,” Delaney says. Somehow she’d inspected my hand and wrapped it again without my noticing. “The swelling’s going down. It’s starting to heal.”
“Let’s get out of here.” I don’t let myself think about the words.
She looks at my hand and bites her bottom lip.
“I thought you were going to pass out.”
Got her. “Then I guess it’s your job to keep me awake.”
“What about all the people in your house?” Delaney asks as she follows me out.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m here or not. They’ll still have a good time.” We get to the sidewalk and I hate it. Every time I stand out here, I remember pulling up and seeing Cheyenne and Colt on the ground. Thinking my best friend was going to die because I couldn’t get him to the hospital in time. That he was going to die in front of me the same way Ashton did.
“Think fast.” I toss my keys and Delaney catches them easily. “You gotta drive. I’ve been drinking.”
“What about your friends?”
“I don’t think they’re drinking, but they’re not out here or going with us.”
I hear her chuckle. I can’t see her too well despite the streetlight. It makes me wonder how she caught the keys so easily.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Isn’t it rude to leave them? And Cheyenne drove me. She’ll wonder where I am.”
“Colt’ll know you’re with me.”
“But—”
“Why did you come here tonight, Casper?” I cut her off.
“To see you… I want to be your friend.”
“And you’ve seen me. If you want to see me any more tonight, this is the way to do it. You can go home if you want. I don’t blame you, but my thoughts are going to eat me alive if I stay in there right now.”
That’s never been the case before. It’s always worked to put the pipe to my lips and inhale the smoke. To be around music and people so loud they drown out the voices in my head. Right now, I can’t do it.
Delaney steps even farther into the dark toward the driver side of my car. “Which way am I going?”
We drive out to the middle of nowhere, up above town where you see the lights of the city. Not that there’s a whole lot of city down there, but enough activity shines below to make it feel like I’m a hell of a lot farther away than I am.
Delaney kills the engine and I push the seat back so I’m practically lying down. Silence fills the space between us, half comfortable and half wanting to shove me out of the car.
“So you wanna be my friend, huh?” The laugh in my voice is hard to hide, not that I’m trying.
“Don’t make it sound like that! There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be friends with you.”
“That’s not what most women want from me.”
“I’m not most girls.”
I don’t reply to that because I have a feeling she’s right. More silence bears down on us. She takes a couple breaths and I feel the mood changing. “Listen, Adrian. I—”
“Are you in school?” I ask. I don’t want to hear whatever she was going to say. Don’t want to keep hearing her say that she doesn’t want me or whatever the hell else she planned to tell me. Tonight, it doesn’t really matter or not if I get to feel her beneath me. If I don’t get to taste her, because right now, I just want to fucking talk. “Talk to me, Casper. You said you want to be my friend. I’m asking you to talk to me.”
And maybe I’m manipulating her in a way, too, throwing that back at her, but I can’t make myself stop.
I hear her breathe. It’s sexy as hell and for a minute I pretend I really do get to touch her. Kiss her lips and take off her shirt and explore every inch of her with my mouth. It would be an even better way to lose myself than talking.
“No… I’m not in school. Just the job.”
“Why not? You’re not into college?”
“I definitely want to go. It’s just not something I’m able to do right now. My brother Maddox and I… we have a lot we’re dealing with.”
Without seeing her eyes, I know that’s part of what haunts her. I want to ask but know there’s no way in hell I’m telling her about myself, so I don’t.
“What about you?” she asks. “You don’t want to be a writer, or whatever?”
I remember being younger, burying myself in books and school to take me away from everything else. I used to fucking pretend I lived in the stories. Or I was one of those characters with enough balls to do something about my life. I used to dream about being Edmond from The Count and how I would make it through all the shit life threw at me and come out of it better. “Life doesn’t work like dreams…”
“What?” she asks.
“I said, nah. No college for me. Cheyenne goes. Colt too.”
“Is that how they met?” she asks.
So I tell her. Tell her how Colt used to live with me and about how his mom was dying. How he met Cheyenne and they wanted nothing to do with each other at first, but how they both found a way to make things better for each other. How that led to them making things better for themselves.
I even tell her about Colt getting hurt and how Cheyenne stayed by his side the whole time.
“And you,” she says when I’m finished.
“And me, what?”
“You were there too…”
I shrug, because it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like I did much. “What about you? Where are you from? Why’d you move here?”
She gasps and I know I hit a nerve. It almost makes me snatch the question back, but instead I turn to look at her, watch her face, as so many expressions play across her feminine features.
She’s really fucking beautiful.
“I’m from Stanley.”
About an hour from where I grew up. “And why did you move here?”
Delaney pauses. “My mom tried to commit suicide,” she finally says. Her voice is the softest I’ve heard it.
“Shit… I’m sorry.”
“It’s not the first time. I’m hoping it’ll be the last. I just… Have you ever wanted to believe you could make it better? That you have the power to fix so many people’s lives, so you set out on this path and then you’re not so sure? Don’t know if you’re doing the right thing, but you’re already on the path to making it happen, so you have to find a way to see it through?”
Delaney turns her head and looks at me. Her eyes are wet and I feel like shit for bringing all this up. “No,” I tell her. “Absolutely not.”
She laughs and I realize that’s what I wanted. That I’d hoped she would find humor in my semitruth. “I mean, I know I’m just going to fuck it up.”
“No!” She covers her face with her hands, but I can hear the giggle behind it. It’s a mixture of a real laugh, laced with seriousness.
The moon is bright, giving us unexpected light. When she pulls her hands away and looks at me with those haunted-house eyes, and I see that sexy little mole on her face and her pink tongue sneaks out and licks her plump lips, blood surges through my body. Heat comes alive beneath my skin and I know I’m going to try to kiss her.
I lean closer. Put my hand on her cheek.
“Adrian…”
“Shhh. It’s okay. I just want to taste you again.”
I pull her toward me and I don’t have to pull very hard before my mouth is on hers. She somehow tastes like apples, too, and I suck her lip, bite it gently, and let her explore my mouth.
In two seconds flat I’m hard. I want nothing more than to bury myself inside her. To lose myself in all that sweetness.
“Can I touch you?” I ask her. “That’s all. I promise.”
“We shouldn’t… This isn’t what I came here for. God, it’s just…”
I feel like shit because she moved here to try and deal with her mom’s issues. Or maybe she ran like I did, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting her. From seeing that same need reflected in her, but there’s more there too. That’s what scares me. She’s attractive and a distraction, but she’s intriguing too. I think of the way she cared for my hand and the fact that I keep opening up to her. It makes me unsure if I want to keep going or get out of the car right now.
I’ve never claimed to be strong, though, so instead of walking away, I ask, “Do you want me to touch you? Don’t think about anything else. Just tell me if you want it.”
Slowly, she nods.
“Then take it. Take what you want.” I have a feeling she doesn’t do much for herself.
This time, it’s her lips that come down on mine. Not wasting any time, I palm one of her breasts. “I can’t feel nearly enough with your jacket on. Turn the car on.”
She does and I turn up the heater before I unzip her jacket. She eases out of it and for the first time, I thank God for good luck because she’s wearing a button-up shirt.
“I want to see you,” I tell her as I push one, two, three buttons from their holes. When she doesn’t stop me, I keep going until her shirt is open, and a pink lace bra cups her breasts.
“You’re so pretty,” I say as I trace the swells of each breast with my finger. Watch as goose bumps follow the same path.
She’s breathing hard, and shaking a little. “And you’re good at this.”
“I’m just getting started.” Soon it’s my tongue tracing the same path my finger did. I unhook her bra and watch her breasts spill free, before my tongue tastes each pert tip. We spend the rest of the night alternating between kissing and talking. Turning the car off and on. We end up in the backseat but don’t talk about anything important. I spend a lot more time with lips taking voyages over her body, traveling her land. Somehow I know if I go for her pants, she’s going to stop me, so I don’t.
Tonight, this is enough. It’s been a long time since I’ve done nothing but make out with a girl. When I went to live with Angel at fifteen, I was free for the first time in my life. Away from my dad and finally living, so I went wild for a while. I did a lot during that time, messed around with a lot of girls, but none of it felt as good as it had just kissing her tonight.
“I’ve never watched the sun come up.” She stares out at the pinks and oranges looking like watercolors in the sky.
“You work graveyard.”
“I didn’t say I’ve never seen it. I said I’ve never watched it. There’s a difference.”
Maybe, just maybe, she might be right. “Then we’ll watch.”