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“What?” I blink away the totally X-rated vision of Brady I was having and look at her innocently.
“Don’t ‘what’ me,” she snarls.
“What?… As in…what can I say? He’s pretty freaking nice to look at, even if he’s a complete ass.” She ews, shaking her head. “When did he get those tats?”
Liv pulls her keys from the ignition, dropping them in her purse. “Recently. My mother nearly had a heart attack.” She opens her door, and I laugh. I bet her mother did have a fit. Then again, Brady’s always pushed her buttons. I remember her lecturing him numerous times about trying harder to fit in, not that he ever listened.
I step out of Liv’s car, glance at Brady one more time, and swallow the lump in my throat. I expect to be upset, but the more I think about how hurt he looked last night, the harder it is for me to stay angry. Whatever happened to Brady, he has to be handled delicately, like a rose – too close to the bud and he’ll wilt, but grab onto the stem and he’ll hurt you.
I’m cowering behind Liv as we walk into the garage. His eyes are on me but I can’t bring myself to look at him. Even if my anger has subsided, I’m still mortified by what happened last night.
Liv strolls over to him and gives him a hug. “Hey, bro, you heading out to the bay today?”
“Yeah, I’m going to pick up Jesse in a bit.”
His gaze burns into me and I keep my eyes glued to my feet.
“That’s cool. Since you didn’t come home last night, I guess you went home with that girl from the bar.”
Damn! Her insinuation punches me again. Like a horror film I can’t turn away from, the memory of Brady and “little miss blow you anywhere” flashes into my mind.
"No Liv, I didn't. She got a little clingy and I had to drop her. I stayed at Jesse's place last night."
As I glance up at him, his eyes meet mine, and I look down again quickly. This is getting ridiculous. I hear the smirk in his voice as he continues, “She’s not the right girl for me.”
When I chance another look up, he’s smiling at me suggestively. What the hell? Can you say “Jekyll and fucking Hyde”?
I’m not sure if it’s anger or desire making my skin burn. Either way, the sensation is increasing my irritation. A warm Santa Ana wind rolls through the garage, blowing his slightly overgrown bangs away from his eyes. I sigh.
“What are you two doing today?” he asks Liv.
Just then Liv’s phone vibrates, and her fingers dig into her purse, searching for it. “We don’t have any set plans now that we found jobs.”
Brady looks astonished. “You got a job?”
Her head snaps up to glare at him. “Yes. Why does that surprise everyone?”
Brady and I laugh at the same time, and our eyes meet again. I instantly angle my glance over his shoulder.
Liv looks annoyed but continues searching for her phone. “We just got hired at Ocean Bean, and we start tomorrow. It’s only for the summer. I was against the idea at first, but then I figured out it’s money I can spend without a lecture from Mom.” She gives up on finding her phone and slings her purse back over her shoulder.
Brady nods and smiles. “Anything to avoid Mom. Hey, if you want to come by the beach later to ride, you’re welcome to. You too, Tor. We’ll be there until seven. If you decide to come, just text me and I’ll tell you where to find us.”
“Thanks, we might. I think Tor is still nursing a hangover, so we’ll have to see how she’s doing later.” Liv laughs and I shrug in embarrassment as I’m reminded of last night and exactly why I drank so much.
“Good. Maybe I’ll see you there.” Brady’s voice is tentative. No chance in hell he’ll see us there. If Liv knows what’s good for her, she won’t even ask.
Liv starts up the four steps that lead into the house. I hang my head, ignoring Brady’s intense stare and turn to follow her.
“Tori.” His smooth voice calls out my name, sending a chill through my entire body. Guh! Seconds from a clean getaway. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I can’t very well tell him to get lost with Liv here, so I step back down the creaky stairs into the garage. Liv keeps go
ing and closes the door once she’s through it. I can’t believe my nosy best friend picks this moment to mind her own business.
I look right at Brady, cross my arms over my chest, and tap my foot anxiously. There is plenty in this garage I could be looking at – for example, bicycles, tools, and old skates that haven’t been worn in many years. But no, I fix my eyes right to Brady’s and beg my emotions to stay in check.
Eyes on mine, he walks right up to me, so close a piece of paper would barely fit between us. What the hell? My next breath leaves my mouth in an angry huff, and I take a step back. When I do, my flip-flop catches and slips off my foot, which increases my frustration. I shove my foot back into my flip-flop, and grumble under my breath about what an asshole he is. He laughs and steps back, increasing the space between us.
