Bad Boy Next Door: A Small Town College Bad Boy Romance Page 8

  “What?” she whispers.

  “I hear something downstairs. I think it’s footsteps,” I explain.

  “Talon, stop trying to scare me.”

  “I’m not. Listen.”

  The sound comes again, and she turns to me, eyes wide with fear. “What do we do? Do you think it’s the murdered man?”

  “I think it’s the police. Someone must have seen us coming in here,” I tell her.

  “Who could have seen us? We’re in the middle of nowhere,” she asks.

  “I don’t know. A hiker, maybe. I don’t want to wait to find out. Come on; we need to get out of here.”

  We start down the hallway, but before we can get to the stairs, the footsteps come up toward us. Wren and I hurry in the opposite direction, and I pull her into the deep shadow of an alcove I imagine once held a statue. Pressing her against the back of the alcove, I pull my hood up over my head and tuck close to her. I fully envelop her, my black clothes helping us blend into the shadows.

  Wren’s breath touches the front of my neck, her hands moving forward just slightly to touch the sides of my thighs. I tilt my face toward hers. Our noses brush against each other. I nuzzle it softly, pressing forward, so there’s no space between us. The footsteps head in the opposite direction down the hall, and I reluctantly pull back from her.

  “We have to go.”

  We sneak out of the alcove toward the stairs. We’re halfway down when two officers come around the corner. I grab Wren’s hand, and we take off running.

  15

  Wren

  Talon holds my hand tightly as he helps me back through the window. We run along the veranda, and he jumps down, reaching up for me. His hands grab my waist, and he guides me down onto the ground. As soon as I’m standing, we take off through the woods. The police officers are close behind us, but I can’t help but laugh. He takes up my hand again and pulls me along, guiding me to weave through the trees and duck under low-hanging branches, so we’re not creating a straight path.

  Soon, the officers give up, and we can slow down. We both gasp for breath around our laughter, looking at each other and shaking our heads. It helps to dissipate the tension that built up between us, the heat that was almost unbearable. His mouth was so close to mine. His lips just a breath away from touching my own. I don’t think about how much I wanted him to take that breath. I can’t think about that.

  We get back to my house, and Talon pats his camera through his bag. “I think I got some pretty good shots. I don’t think any of them are our police chase, unfortunately.”

  I laugh. “I guess we’re just going to have to keep those memories in our hearts.”

  “Or I can sketch them. I think I got a good look at one of the officers.”

  I groan and shake my head. “Probably not the best idea in the world to have artistic evidence of your criminal behavior.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He glances over his shoulder at the house and then back at me. “Do you want to come inside and see the pictures?”

  Before I can answer, my phone rings in my pocket. “It’s a good thing that didn’t happen while we were in the house.”

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and look down at it. Talon nods as I shove it away again.

  “Don’t ignore your boyfriend’s call. It’s not good form,” he says.

  Without another word, he turns and walks into his house. I stand there for a few seconds, trying to process the sudden icy wall I just ran into after thinking I might have found a little bit of warmth inside Talon. When I snap back into reality, I reach for my phone and pull it out of my pocket again. Hitting the redial button, I hold it to my ear and walk to the mailbox.

  “Hey, why didn’t you pick up?” Isaiah asks.

  “I only missed it by a few seconds,” I say. It comes out more defensively than I intended it to.

  “Okay. I was just worried. After what happened on Valentine’s Day, I worry that something’s going to happen to you when I’m not around,” he says.

  I smile, feeling the familiar warmth. “That’s very sweet. But I’m fine.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking the mail. I forgot to grab it yesterday when I got home from rehearsal.”

  “Anything interesting?” he asks.

  “A couple of brochures from some of the colleges I applied to.”

  “Why are you getting brochures if you already applied to them?” he asks.

  “I wanted to cover all my bases and apply for all the schools that interested me, so I had as many options as possible. Then I requested brochures to help me make the decision when it’s time,” I explain.

  “You should still reconsider Harvard. You would love Boston, and we’d be close to New York and Vermont,” Isaiah says.

  “Is there some particular significance to New York or Vermont?” I ask. “I mean, other than they are states geographically close to Massachusetts?”

  “You’ve always said you wanted to visit New York and see Times Square, and I’ve heard Vermont is a beautiful place for weekend getaways. Wouldn’t it be nice to slip away together? Make our own maple syrup?”

  “I’ve never personally had the compulsion to make my own maple syrup,” I admit. “But I guess if the opportunity was right there in front of me, I wouldn’t turn it down.” I think back over the suggestion and draw in a breath. “Would you really want to go away with me for a weekend?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  I don’t really know how to answer the question, so I backtrack to where we started spiraling down the visit to Vermont slippery slope.

  “I really don’t think I would love Boston. I don’t like the cold. The traffic there is apparently horrendous. Besides, there’s nothing at Harvard for me.”

  “Nothing except for me,” he offers.

  It’s the first time he’s pushed the matter, and it feels strangely like Talon put it out into the universe, and it fell squarely on Isaiah’s head.

  “What’s gotten into you?” I ask. “I thought you were fine with me wanting to choose my own school and find what I’m passionate about.”

  “I just think you’re cutting it too close. You need to choose a school within the next few weeks, and I don’t think you’re spontaneously going to come up with your life passion. So, I’ve been thinking. What if you defer for a year?”

  “Defer?” I practically sputter, shaking my head. This conversation is not going how I could have ever imagined it going.

  “Yes. Just for a year. You come to Boston with me, and we get married. Then, after a year, we find a college in the area you like.”

  I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. “Get married?”

  “Instead of waiting another four years.”

  “Isaiah, I...”

  “I’m not proposing,” he says. “It’s just an idea I’ve been thinking about. You think about it, too. Let me know.”

  I’m definitely still thinking about it Monday morning. I never stopped. One cup of coffee doesn’t drown out the exhaustion from a sleepless night. I’m hoping to chip away at it with a second. I’m already running fifteen minutes later than I usually do when I hop behind the wheel of my car and turn the key in the ignition. It sputters and gasps, but nothing else happens. I grunt in frustration, give it a second, and try again. Another sputter and gasp, this time followed by a rattling sound.

  “No,” I say. “No, no, no. Not this morning. I need you to wake up so I can get to school. I have a test today.”

  I try the ignition again, but nothing. A tap on my window makes me jump, and I press my hand to my chest to calm my heart when I see Talon peering in at me. He opens the door.

  “Everything alright over here?” he asks.

  “It won’t start. Every time I turn the key, it makes a sort of a grinding, coughing sound, but it won’t roll over.”

  “Have you considered offering it a treat?” he asks.

  I roll my eyes at him. “This is serious. I’ve got
to get to school.”

  Talon lets out an exasperated sigh. “Move over. Go on, move over.”

  I shift over into the passenger seat, and he takes my place. He grabs onto the key and turns it. The car gives the same unpleasant assortment of sounds, this time adding a defiant thud at the end.

  “Did you really think you could just sit down in the car and turn the key and it would somehow miraculously start? Like I don’t know how to start my own car.” I roll my eyes.

  “I’m just trying to help.” We climb out of the car, and I reach for my phone to call my father. Talon walks back over to his house and stops next to his motorcycle. “Do you want a ride?”

  “What?” I ask, convinced I must have heard him wrong.

  “You called me, honey,” my father says through the phone.

  “Oh, not you, Dad. My car won’t start.”

  “Do you need me to come get you and bring you to school?”

  I look over at Talon again. He gestures to his bike.

  “No, I think I’m okay,” I tell him.

  “Well, leave your keys, and I’ll have the shop come and tow it in.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I’ll see you tonight.”

  I hang up and am tucking my phone away as I walk across the yard toward Talon.

  “Are you coming?” he asks.

  “I thought you don’t give rides on your bike,” I say.

  He shrugs and offers me the helmet. “Maybe you’re extenuating circumstances.”

  He climbs onto the bike, and I settle into place on the seat behind him. Hooking the helmet in place, I try to figure out an appropriate way to attach myself. Talon reaches behind him and takes both hands, pulling them around his waist and settling them onto his stomach. One hand rests over them, holding them in place until my body relaxes.

  “Are you ready?” he asks.

  I nod, and the engine roars beneath us. My arms tighten around him, and I bury my head against his back. He feels strong and powerful, and my body starts to react the same way it did in the kitchen. The same way it did hiding in the abandoned mansion. Heat builds through my legs and pools between my thighs. My hands tingle, and my mouth waters. But it isn’t just my body reacting to him. Sitting with him this way, riding the bike he won’t let anyone else touch, feels special.

  It seems plenty of other people feel the same way. They stare and whisper to each other when the bike pulls up in front of the school. Isaiah storms toward me from the flagpole as I climb off and hand Talon back the helmet.

  “What’s going on here?” he demands.

  “My car wouldn’t start,” I tell Isaiah. “Talon did me a favor and brought me to school. Come on, let’s go inside.”

  “I thought I told you to stay away from this guy. He’s nothing but trouble,” he says fiercely.

  “You told me to?” I ask. “Like you expect me to follow your orders?”

  “Wren,” he says. “Think clearly for a second. This guy has been causing trouble since the day he moved in. First, he humiliates you in front of everybody at lunch, and now you’re cozying up on the back of the bike with him?”

  My hands clench by my side, and an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment and anger swirl inside me.

  “No, Isaiah. You think clearly. First all that ridiculousness about Boston yesterday, and now you’re flying off the handle because my car wouldn’t start, and my neighbor gave me a ride to school? I don’t like this version of you very much.”

  I step around him, only to see Talon deep in conversation with Samantha. Fighting against all the emotions inside me, I rush past them to get inside.

  16

  Talon

  At the end of a long, tense week like I had, I need to blow off some steam. Usually, cast parties are thrown after the show wraps. Apparently, this cast is taking a different approach. The show isn’t for another two weeks, but Samantha decided to throw a party tonight. I figure, this way, if the entire show goes to hell, at least we had some fun celebrating it. I know one thing; the sets will look amazing. The rest of the production may be a disaster of epic proportions, but it’ll look good while it happens.

  Samantha smiles at me from across the room when I walk in. I cooled off things with her after Valentine’s Day. I’m sure part of her thinks it’s still because of the idiotic decorations she draped over my motorcycle. That’s not the real reason, but I’m not interested in sharing the real story with her. At least she’s taking it smoothly. She walks up, and I lean a little closer to make sure she can hear me over the loud music pumping through the house.

  “Is that Wren’s car I see outside?” I ask.

  “Yep,” she confirms. “She was one of the first people to get here. I feel like I’ve talked to her more tonight than I have in weeks.”

  “I’m surprised Isaiah let you get a word in edgewise. Seems he’s not particularly fond of her thinking for herself these days.”

  “Which is probably why he’s not here,” she says.

  I try to conceal the shocked expression on my face. “He’s not here? She didn’t bring him?”

  “I know, and I don’t think he’s coming, either. When she showed up, she said tonight is for her. Apparently, she’s still a bit angry with him over his reaction to you giving her a ride on Monday. I mean, not to blame him. Nobody expected that.”

  She wants something out of that assertion. She’s waiting for me to reassure her or offer to make up for refusing to give her a ride and then showing up with Wren. I’m not going to do any of it. I don’t need to justify anything I’ve done.

  “He’s seriously pissed off enough about me giving her a ride to school when her car wouldn’t start, that they’re still fighting almost a week later?” I ask.

  Samantha shrugs and glances over to another portion of the house. By the way she is looking, I can only assume that’s where Wren is.

  “Well, I’m not so sure that’s the only reason. I’m not completely positive what’s going on, but she said something about Isaiah trying to convince her to not go to college and move to Boston with him.”

  “What?” I raise my eyebrows. “She told me she wasn’t planning on going to the same college as he does. They want different things out of their education and are going to go to different schools.”

  “That’s been the plan. But apparently, she says he’s been thinking a lot about how much things are going to change after graduation. The two of them have been together for a really long time. They don’t know what it’s like to not have the other one close by. If they are going to different colleges, they will have different lives. I don’t think he’s ready to deal with that. He wants to do anything he can to make sure they don’t have to be apart,” Samantha tells me.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “All she told me is he’s pushing hard for her to go to Boston for a year and then figure out what she’s going to do about school after that.”

  “Is she going to do it?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think she does, either. She’s mad at him for trying to control her like this, but at the same time, he’s offering her everything they always wanted and planned. It’s a lot. I don’t think he even knows she’s here tonight. Parties aren’t his thing,” she says.

  I scoff. “Can’t imagine why not. He seems like such a free-wheeling, fun kind of guy.”

  “He really is nice,” Samantha insists. “He’s good for her.”

  “Is he?” I ask.

  She eyes me suspiciously. “Why do you care so much?”

  I shake my head. “Shouldn’t it matter to me if someone I know is facing a major life decision they don’t know if they want?”

  “It’s not really for us to decide, though. This is her life.”

  “Then maybe people should stop telling her how nice Isaiah is and how perfect they are together, and start asking her what she wants,” I point out.

  I walk further into the house, searching the crowds for Wren. I don’t necessarily want her to know I�
�m here. She came to escape Isaiah and the pressure he’s been putting on her. She doesn’t need anything else on her mind. But I want to keep an eye on her. If he doesn’t do parties, that means she probably doesn’t, either. From my experience, a lot can happen at these things. I just want to make sure she’s alright.

  Finally, I see her. She’s in the midst of a crowd dancing in the middle of the living room. It doesn’t seem like she’s fully aware of any particular person around her, but rather is just dancing on her own. Her eyes are closed, her hair whipping back and forth as her head swings. I watch her hips move, her breasts bouncing beneath the thin white blouse she’s wearing as she jumps up and down. I could stand here all night and watch her.

  One of the people closest to her turns around and tries to wrap his arms around her. I realize it’s Mark, the guy with the blond ponytail and muscle shirt from the rehearsal. She wards him off and spends another few seconds dancing on her own.

  Mark moves close again, trying to take Wren into his arms. I walk forward protectively, but Wren seems to be in control. She dips away from him again, shaking her head and hopefully telling him exactly what things he can shove up his ass if he doesn’t leave her alone. Somehow, I doubt those words will ever come out of her mouth, but I can think them in her direction and hope she figures it out.

  Suddenly, she stops dancing. Her eyes open, and she blinks a few times. One hand reaches out beside her as if trying to grasp onto something, and Mark happily takes it. Her mouth opens as she draws in a deep breath. The other people around her don’t even notice what’s happening. She pushes through them, stumbling toward a glass door leading out onto the deck at the back of the house. Mark goes right along with her; his hand still grasping tight to hers. I look through the deck door. Strands of Edison bulb lights illuminate the deck, but I don’t see anyone else out there. She’s going to be alone with him.

  I make my way through the party for the door. A few people try to stop me, but I ignore them, forcing them out of my way, so I don’t lose sight of Wren. By the time I get outside, she’s leaning over the edge of the deck, drawing in breaths as deep as she can. Her body shakes, and she has her eyes squeezed closed again. Mark is at her side, rubbing her back and talking to her in a voice so low I can’t hear what he’s saying. His hand keeps moving lower, and she tries to move aside, but it’s like she’s moving through sand.