Ask Me Anything Read online

  She closed her eyes, sighing as she tilted her head upward. A clear invitation.

  A feather-light brush of my lips over hers, and she tensed under my touch, jerking her head to the side.

  Ice-cold water doused my insides, my chest caving in on itself.

  She’s told you all along she doesn’t want this.

  That hadn’t made me immune to what I thought was a mutual current between us.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, quickly straightening to give her some room.

  But then I looked at her—really looked at her. My stomach plummeted.

  “Amber?” I said, gripping her shoulders. “You’re trembling.” I eyed her up and down, taking note of the way her fists were clenched, her fingers shaking. Slow tears rolled down the cheeks that were warm with my breath seconds ago. “What is it?” I asked, her eyes closed, blocking me from getting through to her. “Fuck, Amber, I’m so sorry,” I said, panic building in me. “I didn’t mean to cross a line. I swear.” I’d honestly thought she was on the same page, wanting the kiss, inviting it. I never believed I could read her so wrong, that I could cause this reaction.

  She sucked in a stuttered breath, finally opening her eyes.

  Apologetic. Hurt. Scared.

  She flung her arms around my middle, almost barreling into me despite the small amount of space between us. I instantly enveloped her, stroking her back, silently begging her shaking to stop as she sobbed into my chest.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Amber

  “I’m so embarrassed,” I said through my tears. Unable to stop them. Unable to stop the flood of memories that had crushed the cloud-nine level of happiness I’d been on seconds before Dean had leaned in to kiss me.

  I’d shut my eyes, ready and thirsting for him.

  And then boom.

  Hello darkness, my old friend.

  My past slashed through all the good feelings and tossed me right back into the pit I’d promised myself I wouldn’t visit tonight.

  Never tonight.

  Not when Dean had gone so above and beyond. More than anyone ever had. Hell, he’d brought out the big Loki guns.

  “Tonight was so perfect,” I said, inhaling Dean’s scent, using it to calm the mortification squeezing my lungs. “The most fun I’ve had in so long.” Having gained some form of control, I tipped my chin up enough to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

  He smoothed his thumbs over my wet cheeks, shaking his head. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Pixie.” He gave me a closed-mouth smile, his blue-gray eyes searching mine, trying like hell to break the locks I’d snapped over everything rolling inside me. “I told you,” he said. “I want to know you. You never have to hide from me or be someone you’re not. Not with me.”

  “I want to—” I stopped myself, sighing as I took a step backward. It was so hard to think straight standing inside his embrace. “I’m not…”

  “Hey,” he said, brushing the back of my hand with his. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, and motioned to the parking lot. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

  My shoulders dropped as I followed him to his car—in relief or disappointment I wasn’t sure. I wondered just how much I would’ve told him if he would’ve let me stand there long enough. The way I felt around him—I was a blink away from spilling all my secrets. The ones eating away at my insides. The ones barely anyone knew about.

  He pulled out of the lot, the colorful neon lights of the arcade filling up the back window for a moment before it disappeared. The darkness was both comforting and suffocating. I wanted to go back a couple hours and relive the night—end it differently.

  At the very least I should’ve had my breakdown at my front door. Then I could’ve simply spun around and hid forever. Now I had to deal with the more-than-awkward car ride home. Not because Dean was being awkward, or because he’d been a jerk about the situation—the opposite. He’d become a better friend than I knew what to do with. And the things he was doing to the heart I was sure had been frozen solid? I was powerless against it.

  Every time I spared a glance across the seat, my heart flipped. He drove with one hand on the wheel, his shoulder relaxed, his long legs bent to fit in the car. The damn Loki shirt fitting him perfectly. This boy…it was like I’d made him in a computer. A perfect combination of strong and understanding, smart and humble, funny and mature.

  Damn.

  And you just blew it because you can’t get Brandon out of your head.

  Dean glanced at me, and I snapped my eyes back out my window, hating that I got caught staring. He chuckled softly.

  “How about some Nero?” he asked, reaching toward his cell hooked on the dash once we hit a red light.

  “Yes,” I said almost too eagerly. Music to cover up my blunder. The tears that were still drying on my cheeks.

  God, what is he thinking?

  I couldn’t imagine—a girl crying against his chest after he tried to kiss her. I’m sure that had never happened to him before.

  At least I have that going for me.

  I rolled my eyes at myself as Dean pushed play on a mix called “Dean’s #1” before the light turned green. He drove and cranked the volume before the song started playing.

  A high-pitched, rhythmic beat blared from his speakers, followed quickly by Taylor Swift’s sweet voice singing “Blank Space.”

  The laugh that ripped from my chest was full and snort-worthy and all the things I usually tried to tone down in public, but there was no possible way. Not with the look on Dean’s face—his eyes wide, a slight color to his cheeks as he swallowed hard. Then, a low growl, this rumble in his chest that stopped my laugh in its tracks, all kinds of other tingles rippling over my skin.

  “Fucking Sean,” he grumbled under his breath.

  I grinned. “I haven’t heard this Nero song before,” I teased.

  He tilted his head, sparing me a glance before focusing on the road again. “No?” he asked. “This is totally my jam,” he said, his tone mocking of what I assumed was closer to what his little sister sounded like. He bobbed his head to the beat, rolling his shoulders.

  Two seconds. That’s all it took Dean to recover. He was so quick.

  Another chuckle and I was dancing in unison with him. “I can see why,” I said over the music, grinning ridiculously when he started dramatically mouthing the words.

  By the end of the song my sides hurt from laughing so hard. Watching this incredibly hot guy belt out Taylor Swift—clearly a prank from his older brother—was the perfect medicine for my earlier misstep. It was almost enough to make me forget what had happened.

  Almost.

  But once he pulled into my driveway and turned the volume down on another Taylor song, I was plunged right back into the embarrassing moment like no time had passed. I parted my lips, shifting in the seat to face him.

  “Thank you again,” I said instead of apologizing like I wanted to.

  “This was fun, right?” he asked like he needed the reassurance as much as I did.

  “The best. Seriously.” I tried to convey with my eyes how sorry I was to have ruined it at the end.

  The car, filled with his scent, seemed to shrink around me as we simply looked at each other, trying to communicate without speaking. Though it was hard to know what he tried to tell me when his eyes were so gray in this muted light.

  “Well,” I finally said, reaching for the door. “See you,” I finished, cringing as I turned to open the door. Super-clever sign-off.

  “Amber?” The use of my real name over my alias froze my movements.

  My stomach hit the floor—he was going to say he wouldn’t see me on Monday. That I shouldn’t bother coming to Code Club anymore. That after tonight, he realized I was too damaged, not worth the effort to even be my friend, let alone more.

  “Yeah?” I asked, barely fin
ding the courage to turn back around and face him.

  He pressed his lips together, a battle raging in his eyes. Reaching across the seat, he gently touched my shoulder, the caress firing up nerves I didn’t even know I possessed.

  “It’s none of my business,” he said. “And I don’t know what happened between you and…him. I understand you’re not ready to tell me about it, and you may never. That’s fine. I just want you to know that I’m here.” He dropped his hand back in his lap. “In whatever way you need me.”

  I swallowed the thick lump in my throat, trying like hell not to cry for an entirely different reason this time. His frame glittered at the edges, but I held it together.

  Kiss him.

  Thank him.

  “Why?” was the only word I managed to speak.

  He furrowed his brow like he’d never expected me to ask that question.

  “DC.” He spoke the letters of our code word, and I chuckled softly.

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “It’s more than an alert to teachers approaching. It’s…ours.” He gestured between us. “You and me. A small pact. We are in this together. We will always be there for the other.”

  “That’s how you’ve thought of it all this time?” The question came out a whisper, but in the quiet car, it was enough that he caught every word.

  He nodded as he shifted in his seat. “Too much?”

  I shook my head quickly. “Perfect.”

  “Good.” He opened his door, rushing around the side to open mine. I took his offered hand as he walked me to my front porch. “So,” he continued once we reached the door to my home, “whenever you’re ready to tell me what’s really going on up here—” He smoothed his index finger over my forehead. “Then…DC.”

  I leaned into his touch, craving the warm comfort and the explosive shocks. He smiled down at me, and as I looked up at him, all I wanted to do was kiss him. To redo the moment from earlier. To prove to him and myself that I could let go of my past and trust someone again.

  I’d already been healing…slowly…ever since the blog and open communication between me and the people who wrote in with their own troubles. There was something cleansing about reaching out to others and helping them, and through that, somehow, helping myself. But I didn’t know if I should or could act on that wobbly strength I’d slowly gathered.

  “Night, Pixie,” he said, taking a few steps back, the motions almost looking like a struggle. Like he didn’t want to leave, either.

  I sighed, grateful for his strength. For his words. For everything. “Night, Dean,” I said, and opened the door before I could chase him across my yard and tackle him. The boy was turning me inside out with emotions—thoughts and wants I was certain wouldn’t happen again for years.

  Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it for a second, eyeing my parents who sat at the kitchen island a little too conspicuously, eating out of a carton of rocky road.

  “How’d it go?” Dad asked around a spoonful of ice cream.

  A thrill raced up my spine at thoughts of tonight. It was quickly blasted down by the embarrassment I knew I didn’t need to feel but did anyway. “Great,” I said and bolted up the stairs to my room.

  Digging in my drawers for my pajamas, I was swallowed by the sea of emotions storming my mind. Memories of that night…flooded me until I was right back there.

  “This is so the party that never ends,” I whispered in Hannah’s ear. She giggled from where she sat on Jake’s lap.

  “Where’s Brandon?” she asked, glancing around the football player’s house. One of Jake’s buddies was throwing the party. A massive celebration before summer conditioning for the team started.

  “I don’t know,” I said, slightly grumbling. “Probably getting another drink.”

  Hannah flashed me a sympathetic look. Brandon wasn’t like Jake—attentive and careful with the alcohol—but I was hoping he might morph into something closer to who he’d been when we’d first gotten together almost a year ago. Fun and flirty and less enamored with the keg stands.

  Still, I was ready to leave. I’d left my gear at home—at the frustrated huffs from Brandon when I went to grab it—and I had a string of code pricking my brain.

  “Amber! Babe!” Brandon hollered from down the hall.

  “Speak of the devil,” I said, laughing as I pushed off the couch.

  “Come here,” he called again. I rounded the corner, spotting him half out of the bathroom. “I need your help.” His words were slightly slurred.

  I sighed, walking toward him. He was probably sick and didn’t want anyone to know.

  “You all right?” I asked as I reached the door. He yanked me inside and shut it behind me before answering.

  “I’m perfect now,” he said, his breath coated in the metallic tang of cheap beer. He pressed his body into mine, my spine tight against the closed door. His tongue darted over my lips, greedier than usual.

  “Whoa, there,” I said, gently shoving him backward an inch. He’d nearly choked me with how sloppy the kiss had been.

  “Whoa, there, yourself.” His eyes trailed the length of my body, pausing on my legs peeking out of my short purple skirt and the dark silk V-neck shirt that hugged my curves. “Do you know how fucking sexy you look?” He reached down, sliding his hand over my leg, up and over my hip, until he gripped my breast.

  “Brandon,” I said, shifting so his hand wound around my back. “You’re drunk.”

  It wasn’t like he hadn’t touched my breasts before—we’d graduated to some pretty heavy make-out sessions the last few months. Enough for me to talk to Mom and get on the pill. And while he continuously asked to go further, it had never felt like the right time. Regardless, I wasn’t into the drunk-and-grab contest he was having with himself right now.

  “I’m not drunk,” he snapped before easing the sharp tone with a smile. He leaned in again, kissing me with lazy lips and a generous tongue. “You make me this way.” He groaned against my neck, biting and lapping and sucking a little too hard.

  I cringed, my stomach twisting the harder he pushed me against the door. “Brandon, seriously, knock it off.” I shoved him, harder this time, but he only retreated a couple feet.

  “God, yes,” he said, rushing back to me before I could move. “I love it when you play hard to get.”

  I brought my elbows up between us, the backs of my forearms pushing at his massive chest as he used his whole body to pin me to the door.

  “Brandon,” I said, panic creeping into my tone. “Seriously, stop.”

  It was like he had plugs in his ears. He kept me locked in place, his huge frame too much for me to push away. Suffocating.

  I yelped when he shoved his hand up my skirt and between my legs.

  “Ouch!” There was nothing gentle about the way he smashed his fingers against the boy-shorts I had underneath the skirt. “Brandon,” I yelled, shoving harder. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Shhh,” he cooed into my ear, his fingers greedy. Grasping. Searching. “If you relax it won’t hurt. It’ll feel good.”

  “Brandon. No!” I shouted, my entire body trembling with adrenaline that wasn’t enough to stop him.

  His fingers finally found the seam of the shorts, and he plunged underneath them. The motion so rough I yelped, the sting from his force sharp and snaking up my center.

  “Relax,” he demanded as he forced his fingers inside me again. Jabbing and pinching. His other hand roamed up my shirt, fisting my breast so hard tears pricked my eyes. His body pinned me to the door.

  Suffocating.

  I struggled against him, the air in my lungs tight. Aching.

  He released my breast, his other hand still jabbing between my legs. He kicked at my booted feet, trying like hell to spread my legs wider as he reached for his zipper.

  Sheer panic bolted th
rough my veins like lighting when I heard the sound of it dropping. Some primal, terrified instinct inside me took over.

  I jerked my knee up as hard as I could, hitting him straight in his junk.

  “What the fuck?” he yelled, finally stumbling backward.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn’t get my hands to stop shaking. I couldn’t catch my breath. “Asshole.”

  “What?” he snapped, his hands firmly between his legs. “You hurt me!”

  “You—! You—!” I couldn’t articulate any other words. Prickles of aches and stings resonated as I stood there shaking. My fingers fumbling at the hem of my skirt that was crumpled and hiked way too high. My head whirling because the room spun.

  “Me?” He gaped at me. “Whatever. Look at you, Amber!” He pointed to my skirt and silk shirt set. “Look at the way you’re dressed tonight! You were begging me for it!”

  I gasped, shaking my head. “I wasn’t. I wasn’t.”

  “You were!” he snapped. “And, God damn, Amber. We’ve been dating a year. This is what girlfriends do. And more.”

  I’d fallen into some other dimension where I was the one to blame for not simply letting him do what he wanted with me. Like my body was a privilege for him, not something I controlled.

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not your girlfriend anymore.” I spun around, flinging the door open.

  “What?” he called after me. “You’re seriously breaking up with me over that? You’re a fucking tease, Amber!” he shouted out the door as I stomped down the hallway. The entire party heard.

  Jake and Hannah met me at the end of the hallway.

  One look at Jake’s murderous gaze over my shoulder and I flung my arm out to stop him.

  “Jake!” I tried to snap him out of it but could barely yell his name over my sobs. “Please,” I said, sniffing. “Please take me home.”