Secret Lucidity(38)

I scoff, shaking my head as I tuck a few loose strands of my hair behind my ears.

“Oh come on. Don’t pretend you haven’t drooled over his ripped body.”

“The guy is in his thirties,” I respond in feigned disgust.

“So?”

“So he’s old.”

“Like that’s a bad thing?” She turns to me and leans her hip against the sink as I toss my hair dryer and brush into my bag.

“You know, it’s a shame you can’t cover up that thing with some makeup.”

“What’s your problem, Taylor?”

“I’m only trying to help,” she says, lifting her hands up in defense. “People talk, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” I snap, grabbing my bag before hightailing it out of here and straight to my car. I put my seatbelt on and then close my eyes and toss my head back, wondering why society forces teenagers to the torture of high school. I swear it’s a cover for some twisted social experiment, like mice in a maze with big brother watching, wondering how we’ll adapt to the bullies and bitches.

I’m so sick of dealing with the pettiness.

My phone vibrates on the seat next to me.

David: Saw you storm out. What’s going on?

Me: Oh, you know, just another day filled with wholesome kiddie shit.

David: Care to ditch the sarcasm and tell me what happened?

Me: Not really.

David: What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?

Me: Wasting my youth away.

David: Care to waste it away with me?

Me: Okay.

David: Head over in ten minutes. I’ll leave the garage open. Close it as soon as you pull in so no one sees your car.

Like a dirty secret.

Me: See you in a bit.

He then texts me his address so I know how to get to his place, and after driving in circles to pass the time, twenty minutes later, I’m walking into his house.

The moment David spots me, he strides in quick steps toward me, saying, “Come here,” before grabbing my face and kissing me on a caught breath. He’s urgent and tense, and I’m forced to grip his wrists to steady myself on my feet.

“You have no idea how hard it was for me to keep my distance from you today,” he says with his hands still holding me.

“Is this how this is going to be? Us avoiding each other until we can sneak away?”

“It’s not how I want it, but it’s how it has to be.”

With a deep sigh, I drop my head to his chest, and his hand comes to wrap around the back of my neck.

“What is it?”

“Why is it that the one good thing in my life has to be complicated?”

“Tell me what happened at the pool. Why did you run out so fast?” he asks, not wanting to focus on the difficulty of our situation.

“Taylor’s got a hard-on for you.”

His chest vibrates against my face with quiet laughter. “That’s what has you all pissy? A schoolgirl crush?”

“No.”

He lifts my head. “Then what is it?”

“She’s just a bitch and takes every opportunity to remind me of it.”

“She’s stressed,” he says, and I slant my eyes at his attempt to make excuses. “Her parents are divorcing, and it’s been hard on her.”

“You’re kidding, right? That girl isn’t a bitch because her parents are separating, she’s a bitch because it’s wired in her DNA. And why is she coming to you about this anyway?”

“Because I’m her coach.” He sends me a sly smirk before adding, “And apparently, because she has a—what did you call it? A hard-on for me?”

I laugh and playfully push him away. “I should have never stroked your ego by telling you that.”

“I didn’t need you telling me. Subtlety isn’t her strong suit.”

“Should I be worried about you being her shoulder to cry on?”

“Not a chance,” he tells me. “And she isn’t crying on my shoulder.”

“She’s gross.”

“Can we not talk about her?” he says, chuckling slightly, “Because you’re here, and the only hard-on we should be talking about is the one I’ve been struggling with all fucking day.”

I burst into laughter at his crude humor, and it feels so damn good. I’ve missed laughing. I’ve missed a lot of things I’m finding he’s capable of giving me.

He picks me up, and I sling my arms around his neck as he carries me over to the couch before laying me down on my back. I take my time running my hands up his solid arms of roped muscle as I get lost in his deep kisses. He moves with confidence, and when he drops more of his weight down on me, I grip his shoulders and savor the pressure.

Dipping his tongue into my mouth, he glides it along mine, and I swear he’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Without breaking our connection, he slips his hand down to the hem of my shirt, and the moment he tugs it up, my heart freezes. In a flash, my hand latches around his wrist, and I yank him away.

My reaction jars him, and he jerks his head up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just—”

The ringing of his cell phone saves me from trying to conjure up a lie. I don’t want him to know I’m the self-mutilating freak I am.