Pull (Seaside #2)(21)

“Are you good?”

Confused that she would ask such a silly question I laughed.

“I’m good at everything. Yeah, I can handle dinner.”

Alyssa didn’t look convinced.

“Please?” I was ready to get on my hands and knees. She was the first person since Cassie who had made me feel things I thought I didn’t possess anymore.

With a huff she kicked more sand. “Fine, but no kissing.”

“I can’t promise that I won’t kiss you.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Fine, I promise I won’t kiss you unless you ask me to.”

“Confident.” She arched an eyebrow and laughed.

I didn’t really know what to say to that, so instead I leveled my gaze in a challenge. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“But I don’t know where you live.”

“The piece of paper you probably threw in the trash — my address is on that.”

“It’s trash day. It’s already gone.”

I sighed. “Do you really want to play this game? You know you dug it back out, minutes after you tossed it. So see you at seven.”

My self-control completely shot, so I left before I mauled her on the beach and had my way with her.





Chapter Eleven


Alyssa


I knocked on the door and cursed myself for being so nervous. It was Demetri. Annoying, irritating, gorgeous Demetri. I had wanted him to kiss me, but after the kiss I felt naked. As if he had pulled down walls I had worked so hard to put up. The part that scared me the most was that for a moment I forgot all about Brady, all about everything.

I lost my pain, and it scared me more than I was willing to admit. I wanted to keep Brady’s memory alive. It was my job, after all. I wasn’t able to do it in the physical sense, so in the emotional sense was all I had.

And then Demetri had said something about death and I freaked. I completely panicked. A vision flashed through my mind of Demetri and me driving and him dying. I knew he was reckless, knew he used to have a drug addiction. Chances were higher with Demetri than any other boy that he would either break my heart or die from some sort of stupid choice. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to stay away from him.

I even dug out some of my nicer clothes. I hadn’t really put an effort into dressing since Brady left, mainly because most of my clothes held memories of him. It felt like I was cheating when I wore them without him there. Well, except the sweatshirt.

My mom finally made me wash it after six months.

I sighed and looked down. I was wearing torn jeans, an oversized black band t-shirt, and flip flops. I knew I looked at least trendy compared to the oversized sweater and Uggs I’d been sporting.

I lifted my hand to knock, when the door swung open.

“Right on time.” Demetri opened the screen door and pulled me into a warm hug. He smelled like spaghetti. I smiled, unable to help the way he was able to so completely disarm me.

“Punctuality. It’s my thing.” I gulped and walked into the house. His hands came down on my shoulders.

“Wanna know what my thing is?”

I gulped. “Cooking? Drugs? Music? Fish?”

His hands slid down my arms, sending chills all the way down to my toes. “Wow. I sound really lame. Is that all you could come up with?” He chuckled.

Why hadn’t his hands moved? Why was I letting him pull me back against his firm chest?

“Girls with brown hair,” he murmured into my hair. “Short ones.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“Anyway.” He released me and walked around, leading me down the hallway. “Here’s the kitchen. Dinner’s almost ready.

Would have been done sooner, but somebody burnt the noodles.”

“You burnt the noodles, I take it?” I grabbed a bar stool and sat down.

“No. Mr. Concentration over there.” He nodded toward the couch where a large man was sitting with a grimace on his face.

Holy crap. I’d only seen the guy from far away. Up close he looked like a hit man, like the type of guy you pay to off drug dealers.

Wait, maybe he was a drug dealer?

I pushed my hair behind my ear and swallowed nervously.

“Bob!” Demetri yelled his name like a curse. “Didn’t think it would be important to tell me that he’d never cooked noodles before.”

“How does one burn noodles?” I directed my attention to Bob, who stood up and made his way over to the kitchen. His face betrayed his lack of amusement as his eyebrows drew together.

“Hmph.” He grabbed a soda out of the fridge and gave Demetri another glare before stopping in front of me. “I’m Bob, Mr.

Daniels’ security guard.”

“Oh.” I laughed. “I thought you were a drug dealer or some sort of crazy parole officer.”

His mouth cracked into a tiny smile before he turned back around and made some sort of animal sound as he settled on the couch.

“You’ll have to excuse Bob,” Demetri said, his back to me as he cooked some sauce on the stove. “Ever since I’ve been clean, I’ve been driving him crazy. He has to go to the taffy store with me every day. I think he’s gained ten pounds.”

“Which begs the question.” I turned toward Bob and smiled.