“Go on upstairs, Jensen. Get to bed. I won’t have you making us late for school again in the morning.” Her languid command reminds me the rest of the house is fast asleep. It’s just us two standing in the dimly lit kitchen of the main house.
“Don’t worry about me. Rich gave me a truck. I won’t be needing your brake-slamming taxi services anymore.” I head out of the kitchen. Waverly follows in step.
“I’m a great driver.”
“Not when you’re mad.” We take two steps, then two more. I stop short and she bumps right into me. “You were mad about something today. I don’t care what you say.”
The warmth of her breath hits my back as she sighs. She’s not going to argue. She won’t even put up a fight.
“A life of servitude is no life at all.” I have to say it, even at the risk of pissing her off. I want to give her something to think about when she goes to bed at night. I can’t imagine what else might fill that pretty little head of hers. Puppies? Rainbows? Shit. She needs to think about real life, because real life is fucking hard. “You wait hand and foot on everybody else, you keep your opinions to yourself, and you’re giving them permission to walk all over you.”
“This is all temporary.” She flashes a knowing half-smirk. “I walk a straight line. I get to go to college in the fall.”
I knew there was more to her than meets the eye.
I keep climbing stairs until we finally reach the top. The hallway is pitch dark. I turn toward her, though I can’t make out her face—only the outline of her profile. Her body heat radiates onto me, and her sweet scent fills my lungs. And then I say something for the sole purpose of provoking her, because a girl like Waverly needs to be incited once in a while.
“I thought about you last night.” Darkness hides my smug smile as I wait for her reaction. My confession is stark and honest, unexpected and entirely inappropriate. I want her to slap me across the face so hard it makes my cheek radiate with pain. I want her to feel better when she does it. Only I’m met with nothing.
“Goddamn it, Waverly, did you hear what I just said? I thought about you last night.”
She swallows so loudly I can hear it. “I thought about you, too.”
CHAPTER 6
The road to hell is paved with impure thoughts, and I just bought myself a one-way ticket. I’m lying in bed, my face burnt red and raw as I try to catch my breath.
Every part of my body came alive for the first time as we stood at the top of the stairs. Jensen’s confession nearly sent me over the edge. My body and mind fought like the mortal enemies they are until I said my piece and brushed past him like I hadn’t said it at all.
I shouldn’t have said anything. All I did was make things worse. Breakfast is going to be awkward tomorrow. Chem class, too. I cannot entertain these thoughts. I’m in the Devil’s playground right now. One misstep and I tumble and fall, and my father would refuse to let me leave for college this fall.
My head is buried face down in my pillow, the cool white pillowcase absorbing the cherry red heat of my cheeks.
I can’t believe I let temptation and lust get the best of me. I know better than to entertain frivolous emotions. This is grossly inappropriate.
I. Am. Mortified.
***
I avoid confrontation like the plague, and that’s precisely why I wake up at the crack of dawn and head to school under the guise of tutoring another student before Jensen wakes.
And it’s also why, when the first bell rings, I make a beeline for the nurse’s office, complaining of a stomach ache that coincidently subsides just in time for my Chem class to end.
I don’t see him the rest of the day, thank goodness, and I rush home after school, grateful when I don’t see his truck because it means he’s working at Uncle Rich’s shop.
I’m playing on the floor of the family room with the younger kids after dinner when I feel a presence lingering over me.
“Missed you in class this morning.” I rotate around to see Jensen standing behind me, his arms crossed, and his lips curled at the corners. He must’ve just come home from work. “Don’t worry. You can borrow my notes.”
“I wasn’t feeling well.” I swallow the enormous lump in my throat. It comes right back. My eyes trace the length of his solid body, stopping at his forearms as they flex just so. His dark hair is ruffled and he smells of diesel and bad intentions. Half a turkey sandwich rests in his hand, which he promptly shoves into his mouth. The indentation above his jaw hollows with each chew.
Bellamy is across the room playing Sorry! with the twins, unable to peel her gaze off the two of us. She knows me better than anyone else, and the fact that she picks up on whatever is happening right now sends me into a dizzied state of humiliation. It’s like my thoughts are being broadcast across my forehead for the whole family to see. My father would never let me go to college if he knew I allowed any kind of lust to creep into the corners of my mind.
I rise, force a smile onto my face, and say, “I think I just heard the buzzer in the laundry room. Better go fold those towels.”
Bellamy opens her mouth to protest. I know she folded them earlier, but I need to get out of here. I need to get away from Jensen.
Dashing down the hall to the laundry room, I don’t hear him following me. I release a relieved sigh and yank open the dryer door, thankful when I find a whole load of random white socks needing matched. This should keep me busy for a while.