The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(27)

I was just about to round the corner of the house when I heard her dad talking. He was giving her a lecture.

Stay away from Cal. He’s trouble, honey. These people are not like us. They can be cruel, and you are too good for a kid like that.

I’d never officially met Darius Rivera, just seen him in passing. Guess it didn’t matter. He’d formed his opinion. I couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, Darius knew my father.

The fucking worst part? He was right. He was so goddamn right.

But it wasn’t his words that cut deep. It was Nellie’s.

Don’t worry, Daddy. He’s just a dumb jock. I hate him just like all the other rich kids.

It was hard for me to look at her and not hear those words. Decades later and I could picture them coming from her lips. I could feel the blade plunging into my spine. I’d confided in her and all she saw was a dumb jock. Someone to hate.

According to this diary, she’d lied to Darius.

Had she? I wanted those words to be a lie.

I needed them to be a lie, even if the damage was done.

The next day, I did what other teenage boys did to girls who bruised their egos—I got even. Phoebe and I were in the library for English class. I watched Nellie walk through the door and disappear into the stacks. About the time she was checking out her books, I grabbed Phoebe’s hand and snuck her into the hallway.

Then I kissed her. I knew Nellie saw us. I made sure she saw us.

I made sure I was cruel. I made sure I was a dumb jock. And from that day forward, I kept my distance.

Until that night in Charlotte.

The lines between us had blurred that night. There was a constant hate simmering beneath the surface. Attraction was its constant companion. And fuck, but we were hot together.

We’d sparked, and there was no chance of stopping. Like three days ago in her living room. I blamed that on her lipstick. The tube had been rolling around on the floor of my car, and when I’d stopped to pick it up, the red color had made me hard as a rock.

I’d wanted that red on my skin.

A smile tugged at my mouth. I’d had that red all over my lips when I’d come home. Nellie had even left a mark on my neck. It was nearly faded now but I lifted my hand, still picturing the hickey.

Sex with Nellie was laced with desperation. A fear that it might be the last time. So we never held back. We never went easy.

Picturing her naked and hoisted against that wall, I stiffened. “Fuck it.”

With her image in my mind, I set the diary aside and went to the cramped shower in the Winnebago. My release was shallow. There was an edge that only Nellie’s tight body would erase. But I’d be damned if I went to her again.

Now it was her turn to initiate the next round.

Would she? We’d spent years going back and forth. It was a game, one we’d played from a distance. How would this work with us in the same town? When there weren’t thousands of miles keeping us apart?

Would she come to me?

What if she didn’t?

I dressed in a pair of charcoal sweats and matching hoodie. The RV felt too cramped, so I slipped outside, took a seat in my green camp chair and tipped my head back to study the stars.

“Pretty night.”

“What the—” I flew out of my chair, my hand slamming against my racing heart. “Jesus, Harry. Make a fucking noise next time. You scared the piss out of me.”

She plopped down in her chair.

“Are you going to at least apologize?” I asked, staring down at her.

“Nope.”

“Nice,” I muttered and resumed my seat. “What are you doing up?”

“You first.”

No way I was going to explain the reason for my sleeplessness.

“That’s what I thought.” Even in the dark I could see the smirk on her face.

I sighed, giving my heart a few minutes to return to its normal pace, then tilted my gaze back to the sky.

Harry did the same, sitting in her superior chair, her legs crossed at the ankles. I hadn’t seen her since the day she’d brought that chair over. Every time I left and returned, I wondered if she would have snatched it away. But it had been sitting beside mine for days.

She wore flannel pajamas, the print different blocks of red and black. The top matched the pants and on her feet were a pair of yellow clogs, the kind of shoes you’d leave by the door if you just needed to pop outside for a minute.

“Did I wake you up?” I asked.

“No. Sleep isn’t always easy.”

She didn’t offer an explanation as to why. I didn’t ask for one. We simply sat in our chairs, shrouded by the cool night air, and watched the curtain of darkness fade.

By the time the sun broke across the horizon, I decided there wasn’t a person in Calamity I wanted to live beside other than Harry. Few could offer quiet company.

“Suppose I’d better get some breakfast,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Breakfast sounds good.” She shoved to her feet. “You’re buying.”

“I was going to eat here.”

“Because you’re cheap or . . .” The corner of her mouth turned up as her sentence trailed off.

“I’m not cheap.” I’d bought at Jane’s the other night, hadn’t I? “I don’t like public spaces.”

“So you’ll just hide out here forever.”