Brady Remington Landed Me in Jail(14)

"Okay."

"Is it hot in here?"

He chuckled. "I don't think it's the room, Rayna."

I suddenly missed the nights when I curled up with a book. "So…uh…what did Clarissa want?"

Brady yawned as he ran his fingers through his soft blonde buzz cut.

I loved his hair. My fingers itched to replace his hand and curl his hair around them. Whoa—change the mind topic.

"…her place tonight. I told her that I'd ask you…"

I ripped my gaze from his hair and jumped when I saw a knowing glint in his eyes. Brady smirked.

"What?"

He just shook his head. "You need to get control of yourself. Or else we're going to get in more trouble."

My jaw dropped, but I looked away. We both knew what he meant. "Okay, so what were you saying?"

"I was saying that Clarissa's having a party tonight at her dad's place. I left my cell at the police station or something. She called here because she thought you might know where I was. You want to go?"

"What?" I swung my gaze back to him. He was very close, very, very close. I gulped, itching to move back, but I wouldn't. I could control myself.

"I said…" His lips quirked upwards. "…do you want to go to Clarissa's party?"

"Does Clarissa want me to go?"

"Yeah, actually. She told me to make sure you came. It's graduation week. You need to let loose and celebrate. Plus, you'll keep me out of trouble."

Not at this rate. I almost said it, but I clamped my lips shut and kept them that way. Brady nudged me with his shoulder. "So? What do you think?"

"I don't know." I eyed my door. "You heard Viola. If she comes in and finds me gone again she's going to ground me."

"No, she won't. She'll ground me, but she won't ground you. She loved that you stayed out all night with me. Your grandmother is worried about you. She thinks you're never going to loosen up and get married someday."

That was true. She'd hinted enough about it, but I ignored her. A person would have to have sex to get married…and the thought of me ever having sex had been like a hot air balloon on a windy day. Something you might look at, but never touch.

I shifted under his gaze.

Brady tightened his lips when he saw that I pulled my robe closer around me, but he didn't say anything. I jerked a shoulder and mumbled, "I don't even know what to wear. I can't wear what I usually do."

"You mean the turtlenecks and baggy sweaters?" Brady nudged my leg this time.

I ducked my head, but couldn't stop a small smile. "You know what I mean. I can't wear that to one of her parties." My wardrobe choices weren't that bad. A baggy sweater, but not a turtleneck. Ever.

"You make it sound like Clarissa is an alien or something." Brady leaned back on his elbows. He kicked his legs in front of him and just like that, the room had transferred from being hot and intimate to being the same as always. Brady was back in charge again. He grinned, cockily, when I stood in front of him.

"You know what I mean," I muttered and scrutinized my closet. I had nothing that would pass as semi-attractive.

"No, I don't, Ray. You've always been weird about Cumberly. Why is that?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I have. It bothers her. She doesn't think you like her."

I swung back; eyebrows arched, and stared at him.

Brady liked to use gel in his buzz cut so that his short hairs stuck up a little, but after his shower his hair had already dried and looked soft to the touch. He looked like a little boy, complete with two dimples as he grinned back at me. He was different when he was with me. If we'd been at the party, he would've had the hard edgy look to him. He liked his tattoos to be seen, but I saw that he had pulled a blanket to cover the tribal tattoo on his stomach. The one on his shoulder was hiding in the shadows.

"It's not that I don't like her. It's just that…she's one of them."

"One of what?"

"You know. Your girlfriends."

"My what?"

"Your girlfriends." I didn't think that I needed to spell it out. "She's…I don't know. She's cool and confident and…she's not the type of person that I'm friends with."

"You're friends with me." His voice was quiet.

The air shifted again. Here we were…I knew that I needed to tread lightly, very lightly. I met his gaze, swallowed over a knot in my throat, and felt that we were talking about something different.

"You're different. I mean…we're not normal, Brady."

A scowl formed at his mouth. "What are you talking about? We're not normal?"

"You know—you're…one of them and I'm…not."

"That is the most retarded thing I've ever heard." He threw himself off the bed and stalked towards me. "You are just like me. You are no different than me. You are no different from Clarissa."

"Yeah, but…" I was pressed against the doorframe as Brady towered over me. "I'm not one of your girlfriends."

His chest was in front of mine. Another step, just an inch, and we'd be pressed against each other. His gaze was glued to my lips. I kept looking from his eyes to his lips, but then I felt something strange wash over me when he murmured, throatily, "You're more than that."