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“Oh, because dating a bully is so much better?”
“He’s not a bully.” I wince. “Well, not anymore.”
“Let’s talk about who’s weird. Remember what he told me? That kindness doesn’t do it for him, that his dad always said you had to beat everything into him. He’s the weird one. I bet that means he likes it rough in bed. With whips and shit.”
“Shut up.” I’m angry on his behalf, and get angrier still when I think of the scars on his back. “That’s not how it works. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And you do? Because he kissed you? Or because you slept with him? He magically transformed into a rainbow farting unicorn, is that it? Or did your kiss turn him from a frog into a prince?”
“No.”
It doesn’t work like that, either. There’s no magic. He didn’t change overnight. What changed is the way I see him. The way I understand him. And probably the way he sees himself, too, after a childhood of trauma, his rough time in prison, finding out his mom is dead and his dad trying to kill him, well... that can change the angle from which we see the world.
I bet it did for Ross, bet it shifted on its axis one day and he started to drown.
I’ll never forget him falling off the garage roof. Maybe that was when my world shifted on its axis, too. or maybe it’s a process that started long ago.
“You can have Ross. All yours,” Dena mutters with a disdainful sniff. “I’d much rather take a normal guy. Come, Jenner.”
He lets her take his hand, and shoots me an amused little smirk—not malevolent, or hostile in any way, just... empty.
I swear I don’t get this guy at all.
I watch them go back into the restaurant, then I fish my phone out of my purse and check the time. Just enough to run home, shower, have dinner with my family, and escape later to visit Ross. I shoot him a text to let him know of my plans, and I get his reply almost instantly.
‘I have a surprise for you.’
A shiver runs through me. ‘Good or bad?’ I write, my fingers shaking. Lately, it’s mostly been bad surpri
ses all around.
‘You’ll see,’ he writes back, the tease.
Sounds like he’s feeling better, and that makes me relax. Hadn’t realized how tense my shoulders had been all day.
But what can the surprise be? All sorts of things run through my head as I walk home, even as I realize that it can’t be anything bad... right? He’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t he?
Oh boy. I sure hope I’m right, and it’s a struggle not to take off and run all the way to his house. No way, it can’t be anything bad. He wouldn’t be so cruel.
He’s not that cruel anymore.
Lost in thought and doubt, I almost jump out of my skin when I lift my head and find him standing right in front of me, just at the edge of the town.
“Ross. What are you doing here? Scared the crap out of me.”
He takes my hand. “I was waiting for you. Can’t trust Ed and his goons not to come after you again.”
“And what about my surprise?” I ask breathlessly, so absurdly absolutely happy to see him. He has a baseball cap on backward, tufts of white-blond hair escaping, a dark-blue T-shirt stretching over taut pecs and powerful shoulders, his ever-present jeans, and God...he’s gorgeous.
Excuse me while I hyperventilate for a moment, thinking I get to hold his hand, kiss his lips, caress his body.
“The surprise, huh? That’s what interests you, not seeing your boyfriend?” He cracks a grin. “It’s waiting for you, too. You’ll see.”
But the rest of his words are lost in a roar—did he just say “boyfriend”? He did, right?
Be still my heart.
I mean, I did the bold thing and asked him yesterday but he never replied, not outright, and I had made it my goal not to ask again and bury my insecurities deep. What do you want me to say? A guy like him, handsome like a god, with a chubby, self-conscious girl like me... I know he says I’m pretty, and I’m over my anxiety-riddled teenage days, I hope, but it still doesn’t feel real.
