West releases a paralyzing grin. “Holy shit, my girlfriend’s a kickboxer.”
I sort of giggle, but it’s so halfhearted it falls flat. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined I’d be sitting in such an expensive car with such a gorgeous guy. Taking a page from Marissa’s book, I tuck my hair behind my ear and suddenly care what I look like.
I wish I was wearing something nicer. Something more than ripped jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. Something that would make me “girlfriend” material for a guy like West. “Look, the whole relationship thing—”
“Yeah,” he cuts me off. “Sorry. No one was buying what we were saying so I ad-libbed. Can we keep up appearances for a while? We can ‘break up’ in a couple of weeks after they believe the reason I went after Conner was because I was into you.”
The glare I throw him causes him to toss his hands in the air. “I swear to God, I’ll keep my hands to myself. I highly respect that my girlfriend can throw a punch.”
Which is the reason why the only guy I’ve ever dated or kissed has been Matt. Boys are repelled by strong girls. “Have you considered transferring to another school? This was your first day. You could start fresh someplace else. I can play dumb and say I have no idea where you lived because it’s true. If you leave now, this could blow over.”
“You mean it could blow over for me.”
I nod.
“And leave you hanging? Not happening.” The crazy expression I often see on Jax and Kaden spikes across his face, and suddenly I don’t care what I look like anymore. I’m not interested in becoming involved with another fighter.
“It’s not my style to run from a fight,” he says. “Besides, I’m not sure if you heard, but my new girlfriend is going to teach me some of her kick-ass moves.”
“Assume much?”
“I’m not telling you anything y
ou haven’t already thought yourself.”
True. I reach for the handle and ask one last question. “Curious. Is my new boyfriend a drug dealer?”
West laughs. It’s deep and smooth and gives me beautiful shivers. “No.” He pauses. “I’m not much of anything anymore.”
The ache from earlier returns to his eyes and it reflects the hurt tucked deep inside me.
“Whatever it is that’s going on with you,” I say, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m good.” His eyebrows furrow and he stares out the front windshield.
He’s obviously not good, and I bite my bottom lip. For strangers, West and I have become uncomfortably familiar in a rapid amount of time. Our worlds didn’t just collide; they merged as paint spilled on a sidewalk and it’s like neither one of us will be the right color again.
“You can tell me—that is, if you want to talk. If you’re worried, I’m not a gossip because I’m not exactly—” my fingers flutter in the air “—popular.”
West opens and closes his mouth a few times and I hold my breath. Whatever he has to say, it’s big, and somehow, it feels right for him to tell me. “My family threw me out Saturday.”
The air rushes out of my lungs as if I got steamrolled by a front kick to the chest. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”
“Yeah.”
But I’m not sure I believe him. For months, I’ve been the queen of chaos. I’m a mist, a vapor. Belonging nowhere yet stretched everywhere.
This boy drops into my life with his clothes and car and attitude that suggests he’s rich and affluent and the king of the world. With one small yet enormous statement, the gap that existed between us disappears. I slide across the divide, placing my fingers as tightly as I can around his. “I get it, West,” I whisper my secret to him. “I understand not having a home.”
West
I’m used to people talking, saying words aloud to prove they know more than me, that they’re better than me. But they’re just words. Syllables strung together between breaths to fill uncomfortable silences.
Meaningless words.
Haley, on the other hand, speaks volumes with a touch. The way her hand clutches mine, it rips out my heart and tosses it onto a platter.
This moment, it’s too raw. It’s too real. And the instinct is to snatch my hand back and slam the door shut on the sharing, but the other part of me—the part that feels as if my remaining sanity is a gift on the verge of being returned—it clings to her.