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"And you're asking me out?" I needed clarification. He had me in knots. He was mad. And he wanted . . . what?
"Maybe I want to ask you to the movies or out to dinner. Maybe just over to my house. But only if you promise not to lie to me anymore."
I shouldn't have hesitated. What he was asking was not so terrible. But I lied a lot back then. I had to. It was how I got what I needed, the way I covered my ass when I forgot stuff or found myself suddenly in a room I didn't remember walking into.
Just then, Max and Andrew-who'd come back at some point during our talk-came out of the motel room and walked in between us. Jake stepped back and thumped Max on the head as he shoved passed. "You're driving, asshole."
Andrew winked at me as he called shotgun.
Once the path between us was clear again, Jake stepped back in, picking up our conversation. "Look, you're taking the ride whether or not you make the promise. But I need to know," Jake pressed a finger against my cheek, turning my face, making me look at him. "What else are you trying to hide?"
I froze, staring into the Atlantic depth of his eyes, unable to find words.
"Well?"
The blaring burst of a horn broke his spell.
"Come on."
Taking my hand, Jake led me to the side of the van. We had to cram ourselves in between stacked amps and drums. But we both fit in the limited space that was a little more snug than the night before since the guys duffle bags were now crammed in there, too. We were about halfway back near the sliding side door with our feet down in the well of the step.
Jake set his arm around me and pulled me closer. Pressing my hair back from my face, he set his palm against my cheek. "Would it help if I told you that I don't care about whatever it is that you think is so bad? You don't need to hide from me."
I kept staring. His face was so close and lovely, his presence so strong beside me. I had his undivided attention and was smashed up against him and still didn't feel close enough.
"Angel. If it's what I think it is, it won't change my mind."
I wasn't sure what he was saying and still couldn't form a response. There was so much he didn't know about me and I was afraid to tell him. I settled for placing my hands in between our laps and staring into his hypnotic eyes, hoping to find courage.
Still cupping my cheek, Jake leaned closer. I thought he was going to kiss me and felt heat bloom in my chest.
"Last night wasn't your first time, was it?"
The petals of my desire wilted. "What?"
"You know, a guy can tell. And you didn't have to pretend. I'm not one of those assholes that's gonna judge you. Just be who you are."
I was mortified. And totally confused. My neck suddenly felt very hot. "Wait. What are you saying?"
Jake dipped his head, speaking so low I could barely hear. "Lack of pain . . . and or hymen?"
My cheeks blazed in a chagrin fueled inferno. I smothered my face in my palms. "Oh god. I knew it. Now you think I'm a slut."
"Did you hear anything I just said? Because if you did, you would know that's fucking ridiculous."
"You think I do this all the time." I wanted to disappear.
"No. I don't. Even if you did, that's none of my business. What the hell? Angel, I like you, why would I think that?"
I had to take a deep breath and let his words sink in. Look him in the face and search his eyes. He didn't seem to be angry and I sensed no sarcasm. But his opening the discussion on something so personal with such a casual manner, it was painful.
But it wasn't his fault. All Jake knew was I had already lied about my age. I knew he needed truth and he didn't trust me to give it to him. And that bothered me, but more than my nonsensical irritation, I wanted to give Jake what he wanted. Even though I feared, once I told him he wouldn't want me anymore.
"Well, you're right about one thing, Jake." I took a deep breath and exhaled, imagining the small breeze from my mouth was pushing him away, like dry leaves in the wind. "You are nosey. You want the truth? Fine. Here it is: I've had a royally screwed up life. I'm busted in every way you can imagine and probably a few that you can't. I'm sorry for trying to shield you from that. Truth is my hymen was broken when I was five years-old."
His eyes widened. My words had him in recoil. I could see the theories and scenarios playing across his concerned face.
"I was in a car accident. It killed my mother and I almost died, too. In case you're still curious, I might never have kids because of it." I shut my eyes tight to keep from seeing his reaction. "I don't have a family and I can't make one. I have been in foster homes, living with people that either steadily ignore me or beat the shit out of me, for the past eleven years. I don't talk to anyone about my life. Not even to the doctors who ask about the bruises." I was nearly panting, my body rigid with the suffocating feeling that accompanied any topic involving my mother.
