Pull (Seaside #2)(14)

I was still frozen in place when my mom came rushing in.

“Is he still here? Where did he go? Did he talk to you? What was he like?”

“Mom.” I held up my hands. “Just… don’t.”

She sighed like a teenager and giggled. She’d lost her freaking mind. “I just love Demetri Daniels, and I don’t believe a word they say about his rehab or drugs. He’s just a nice boy who—”

“—is doing community service.” I pointed across the street and sighed. “He’s…” I couldn’t think of the right word, so I just shrugged and said, “Cocky.”

Mom, clearly not caring that she was scarring me for life, sighed and watched Demetri cross the street and grab his bucket from a large guy with a shaved head. Body guard. It had to be.

Demetri continued singing the stupid taffy song and dancing around the corner like a drunken chicken. And I grabbed the rag again and pretended to keep cleaning, while out of the corner of my eye I watched. I hated that he made me feel warm inside. I hadn’t had that feeling in two years, and I wasn’t about to let it get the best of me again. It was all his fault. If Demetri hadn’t spoken to me that first day, if he had just left everything alone, then I wouldn’t be stripping him naked with my eyes. I wouldn’t be longing to touch that perfectly sculpted face. Frustrated, I threw the rag against the counter and stomped off, leaving my mom to watch him all by herself.





Chapter Eight


Demetri


Four days. I watched her for four days. What kind of stalker did that make me? I mean she had the ugliest clothes I’d ever seen.

She was so small, she practically swam in them, and I’m sorry, but there’s a reason guys don’t dig Uggs. They gave her legs no shape, and I couldn’t figure out if she had really nice ones or cankles, and then it pissed me off that I was thinking about cankles in the first place.

Ever since Tuesday when I ran in to the competition’s store and tried to find any excuse to talk to her, I’d been out of sorts. Not the out of sorts that just leaves you when you fall asleep at night.

No, the type that had me eating so much taffy that I was convinced I was going to have ten cavities by the end of the year.

I shook the bucket, but my heart wasn’t in it, not that it had ever been truly in it, but still. I felt off. Clearly, I needed another hobby, or friends, or something, because my behavior was bordering on stalker-ish. Yesterday I’d even gone in her parents’

taffy store and asked about her schedule.

I swear her mom almost fainted.

When she introduced herself, she almost seemed too eager to get her daughter into my clutches, which really should have been my first clue that something was off. I mean, unless they lived under a rock, they knew exactly what I was about. Spoiled rock star who nearly killed himself in an accident, troubled past, man-whore of the century, blah, blah, blah.

I’d pasted on my best smile, careful not to give her mom a stroke, and asked about Alyssa.

All I found out was what I already knew. She worked every freaking day, just like me, which just reinforced the conclusion I had come to earlier.

She was lonely.

I asked her mom about friends.

Again, yes, I’m very much aware how creepy I was being, but I had Bob, that was it. I was desperate for some sort of companionship, even if said companion wanted to stab me in the eye.

After no convincing whatsoever, I discovered that Alyssa had Saturdays off and didn’t often go out with friends.

I could be her friend.

Lame. Maybe that’s how I should start the conversation.

“Hey, Alyssa, I’ve been watching you for the past four days. You have a pretty face even though your clothes suck. Wanna hang out?

Oh, and by the way, I’m so bored and strung out about not being able to get high, that if you say no, I just may kill myself.”

Promising.

Clearly, I’d been out of the game for far too long. I couldn’t even remember how to talk to a normal person.

I kicked the ground and looked across the street again.

Tomorrow was Saturday. Tomorrow I was going to pursue the first girl I’d pursued since Nat.

And look how well that turned out.

The familiar pang of rejection hit me square in the chest.

Why was I even putting myself out there when I literally had nothing to offer, but baggage?

Hell if I knew, but damn if I didn’t still want to try.





Chapter Nine


Alyssa


I woke up to someone pounding on my door. With a grunt I threw off the covers, stumbled out of my bed, and walked drunkenly toward my bedroom door, opening it with irritation.

“Hi, friend.” Demetri smiled.

I closed the door in his face.

“Is that any way to treat your friends?” He laughed from the other side.

Closing my eyes didn’t make the problem go away. I was still in my Seaside High Track t-shirt and old running shorts. I looked like a little kid. I glanced in the mirror and cringed. My brown hair was pointed in every which direction, making me look possessed, and I had giant bags under my eyes.

“Go away!” I yelled.

Silence and then, “No.”

“Demetri.”

“Alyssa.”

Dang, I should have never told him my name. “How do you know where I live?”