Them (her Book 3) Read online

  “What about you? What ex is regretting whatever he did to lose you?”

  She lets out a small, quick breath, wrapping her arms around herself as she walks a little faster. “There isn’t an ex,” she says, not looking at me.

  “That’s impossible!” There’s no way a girl like her has never had a boyfriend. She rubs the back of her neck, and I realize that we’ve moved into the next territory that might divide us, just like the travel. She’s inexperienced or innocent, and I have to be careful not to scare her off.

  “Um, my priorities have been to be independent, get a degree and a good-paying job, and if I’m lucky, I’d like to start a nonprofit focusing on teens in foster care. I didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.” She says it almost defensively, looking up at me with a defiant gleam in her eyes, as if she expects me to be bored or dismissive. Instead, I’m intrigued. She has goals and dreams, and wants to help others. All of those things are attractive, and she’s had to work harder than most to achieve them.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what was it like being in foster care?”

  She looks surprised that I’ve asked. She lets out a slow breath, looking ahead of us.

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I assure her quickly. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable.

  “No, it’s okay,” she says slowly. “It’s my life. I’ll say it wasn’t easy and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. But aside from that, it’s just not having a connection to anyone or your past, your bloodline…it’s almost worse.”

  “Do you know what happened to your parents?” Now I’m the one biting my lower lip, and I doubt it looks as cute or sexy as it does when she does it. I feel bad for making her talk about these things, but at the same time I want to know. I want to know more about her, about who she is.

  “I wish, but I don’t know anything because I went into the system when I was four. I have no idea who my parents are or why I ended up there. It was especially hard because while most of the other kids knew being with their parents permanently wouldn’t happen, there was always hope, a thread that could be attached to whether they wanted it or not. I didn’t even have hope.” She sounds so sad that it breaks my heart a little. Her eyes are wide and green as she looks up at me, and I suck in a soft breath as she murmurs, “I’m sorry I’m killing the mood.”

  I stop, and as she turns to look at me I step forward, my face serious. “You’re not killing the mood,” I tell her firmly. I want her to know that more than anything suddenly, that knowing her is important to me. That she can be vulnerable with me, and I won’t be bored or make fun of her. “I want to get to know you. The past is who you are, and for you to be here, I think you’re incredible.”

  I’ve never meant anything more in my life. I hear her breath catch as I take a step closer, the wind ruffling her hair, and as I stare down into her green eyes I know there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here. Not even Paris can compare to this.

  I wait for her to give me some signal to stop, for her to pull away, but there’s none. I can feel her stop breathing for a moment as I lean down and press my lips softly to hers, my fingers stroking the edge of her cheek as I kiss her. I never cared about a first kiss before but this is different. I hope it won’t be the last of our firsts and I want to make it as good as I can. I want it to be wonderful, for her, because she’s wonderful. That’s all I can think as my hands find the small of her back and I pull her closer to me, the warmth of her body against mine as my lips press against hers. For a moment the world stops moving.

  She might be the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.

  5

  Alana

  It’s been three days since the night at the club when I met Dexter Jr., my alleged brother. I haven’t heard anything from Beth and she’s really starting to piss me off. I texted her two days ago and her reply was a bitchy Alana, it’s midterms. I’ll get to it soon, I promise.

  Fuck her!

  I keep thinking about the business card from Dexter and how he said “stop being in the dark.”

  The thing is, I like the darkness.

  But the need to go into the conversation with him—if I talk to him at all—with information of my own is stronger. I don’t want to go in blind. And I don’t want to depend on him to tell me the whole truth.

  I don’t trust him and he sure as hell shouldn’t trust me.

  My anxiety and nerves have done nothing to keep Megan at bay and she’s taken over longer than she has before, which is only making all of this harder to deal with. She wants to know even if she has no idea what’s going on. When we were kids, I thought she was weak. But I guess she’s not as weak as I thought—that she has her own kind of strength. If I don’t fight her time, I get more of my own, once I manage to get back out. And that’s what I want most—more time.

  That’s the other reason I don’t want to call Dexter Jr., too. I’ve never cared about family ties or bloodlines. I’m perfectly fine being on our own. So this pull to find out more, to talk to him and discover what secrets about her…me…us…that I feel—that must be Megan. Subconsciously, she wants me to contact him, and I don’t want to give in to that. She doesn’t get to make decisions about my life. And I’ve decided that I’ll take care of us myself, ever since that long-ago day in Dr. Johnson’s office.

  I’ll handle this my way, and that way is waiting for Beth to get in touch with me and let me know what she could dig up on the Crestfields. Control of this part of my life is all I have, and I want to stay in control of this situation.

  It’s not until Bianca, a dancer at the club, asks me about my weekend and if I had any hot dates that I think about blondie again.

  “I met someone at a bar,” I say offhandedly. It’s a lie but it doesn’t matter.

  “Ooh, was he hot?” She giggles, applying hot pink lip gloss to her full, bee-stung lips.

  “Gorgeous,” I assure her.

  “Did you fuck him?” She giggles again, a high-pitched sound that’s more than a little grating.

  “Good girls don’t tell,” I tell her with a mischievous smirk.

  “But you’re not innocent, bitch,” she declares loudly and I roll my eyes at her.

  I toss my hair and start to refresh my lipstick. “Let’s just say he was grateful he got to see me naked.”

  “Yes, girl!” Bianca cheers. “Are you gonna see him again?”

  “Probably not. One and done, right?”

  The absolute truth is, I’m a virgin, and I’ve kept it that way on purpose. Letting someone that close requires a vulnerability that I’m not comfortable with. I’ve had to fight to keep my virginity my whole life from people who wanted to take it without my consent, who saw it as a means of control, or power, or just because it would have been fun to them to hurt me. But since I’ve controlled it for so long, shouldn’t I finally choose someone to give it to?

  My mind drifts back to Ian, and that date that he wanted to take me on. I’m so tired of making up stories about messing around with random guys. I want to experience the thing that I keep lying about, the thing everyone seems to think is so amazing. More than that, I want to get the first time over with.

  I don’t want to fall in love, and I don’t give a fuck about emotions. I want to experience pleasure, bliss, some happiness in this bullshit life that I got handed, even if it’s just physical. And if I’m going to choose someone to have sex with for the first time, I want it to be someone hot. Someone imperfect like me, a little rough around the edges, someone who won’t let me walk all over them but also won’t be too hard to handle. Ian seems like that kind of person—perfectly imperfect for this. He’s sexy as hell, knows how to give back the shit I dole out, and what’s more, he seems like the type that won’t call afterwards. Or if he does, it’ll just be for a few more rounds before he moves onto the next girl. Which is good, because even though I want someone to be my first, I don’t intend for anyone to be my last.

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nbsp; He doesn’t respond immediately after I text him. That’s good, he’s not too eager. Or at the very least, he knows how to play the game. When he does text, it’s halfway through my shift when I get it, while I’m on my break.

  Tomorrow night? Around six?

  I hesitate, but text back before I can talk myself out of it. Sure.

  My heart is pounding after I send the message. It’d be embarrassing but funny as hell if Megan came back during our date. I giggle and push all thoughts of Ian out of my head and plan on finishing my shift.

  I’ve been sitting outside of the bar Ian picked for the better part of an hour, trying to talk myself into getting out of the car and going inside. There’s something that I don’t like about him, and it’s making me question my decision. I’m not sure what it is. I think it’s the fact that I actually sort of like him. I’ve never been out with anyone I liked before. I go on plenty of dates but that’s for work and I’ve never liked any of them. I felt comfortable with him, in the car for those hours that we drove together. I liked how he bantered and wasn’t intimidated by me. The attraction to him is fine, but liking him is dangerous. I can’t like anyone, not like that. There’s no future for me with someone.

  While I’m trying to make up my mind what to do—go in or just stand him up—my phone buzzes. I half expect that it’s Ian calling, but instead it’s Jadon. I roll my eyes, but pick up the phone.

  “Aly. Good to see you’re finally answering my calls.”

  “What do you want, Jadon?” I know I sound annoyed, but I don’t care. I am annoyed.

  “I miss you, baby. Can’t I call and tell you that?”

  “Don’t call me baby,” I snap. “And you miss the money that I make for you, not me. Be honest with yourself.”

  “There’s lots of girls who could make me money. But I miss you. Even after you banged up my car, I’m still calling you.”

  “Because I’m the best at the game. You’re not fooling me, Jadon. You need me, or you wouldn’t be calling.”

  “You don’t pull any punches, do you, girl? Yeah, I need you. You happy to hear that? Come back, alright? I’ve got plenty of work for you. As much money as you need, we can make. I won’t short you this time.”

  “So you admit it?”

  “Just come back, alright, Aly?”

  I grin. “If I say yes, I need you to do a favor for me. I need you to find some information on someone for me.”

  “What’s in it for me if I say yes?”

  “I’ll make it up to you. Plus, I won’t double my fee. How does that sound?”

  “You drive a hard bargain woman. I know a guy who might be able to help. Just be here on Friday, alright?”

  “I’ll text you the info. Don’t call me again until you have some answers for me. Then we can do business.” I hang up on him without another word. I know I’m being a bitch, considering that I wrecked his car, but who am I kidding? It most likely wasn’t even his. Jadon uses his looks to use rich chicks and it was probably one of theirs. Men are all assholes, just different variations of the same.

  Ian will be too. I just have to maintain control over the situation, is all. I’m here for a reason, so I might as well get out and go in. I’ve had him waiting awhile so he’s probably already left. I finally get out and to my surprise, as I’m walking across the parking lot, I see him walking towards his car, a scowl on his face. Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I did leave him waiting for an hour, at least. I put my most charming smile on, sauntering over to him in my skin-tight jeans and tight white t-shirt, trusting that to do the trick. “Giving up on me already?” I call out, once I’m in earshot.

  When he looks at me, I can tell he’s fighting back a smile. He drinks me in, his eyes going from my messy hair atop my head down to my face, my breasts, my hips in the painted-on jeans, and back up to my eyes. He frowns, but I can tell his heart’s not in it.

  “You told me to meet you here an hour ago.”

  I waltz closer to him, leaning close so he can smell my perfume. I reach up on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear, bringing my lips close to it. “Good things come to those who wait,” I purr. I feel his body tense, the desire in it radiating outwards. I rock backwards on my heels, pushing his chest slightly before I turn away back towards my car. “What are you waiting on?” I call out, unlocking it as I glance over my shoulder flirtatiously. I’ve got him hooked, now to reel him in.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m riding with you driving,” he snorts. “I’ll drive.”

  I turn towards him, pouting prettily as I bite my bottom lip. I see his eyes flick down to it, no doubt thinking about what I might do with them later. “I promise you, it’ll be fun.” I grin at him as I slide into the driver’s side, and not a second later he’s there, leaning against the car.

  “I asked you out on the date first, so I get to dictate where we’re going, sweetheart.” He stands back, gesturing for me to get out.

  Normally I’d kick a man in the balls for calling me sweetheart. I’ve definitely kicked this one there before. But there’s something about the way he says it that I kind of like. It’s arrogant and smartass, and I think he’d just laugh if I told him to stop. I don’t know how I feel about that.

  “But I ride stick really well,” I murmur, locking eyes with him as I stretch in the seat, lifting my arms above my head so that my t-shirt rides up and reveals my flat stomach. This should do it, but instead he bends down, his warm palms on either side of my waist as he picks me up out of the car and sets me down as if I weigh nothing. I lean back, grinning at him. “Remember our conversation about boundaries?”

  He throws his hands up immediately—I can practically see his balls retracting at the memory. Reluctantly, I give in, laughing at him before I walk over to the passenger’s side of the car and slide in.

  “This is a badass car,” he says, getting in on the driver’s side and looking around.

  “Maybe I’ll keep it,” I joke, putting my feet up on the dash as I slide my glasses down onto my face and glance at him. “You look much better driving it than the guy who owns it.”

  “This isn’t your car, either?” He doesn’t really sound surprised. Good. That should keep him from getting any ideas about me being the kind of girl you keep around.

  “How would it be my car? I don’t live here.”

  “Stole this one like the first one?”

  I can hear the mild frustration in his voice. Does he think he can change me? That me deciding to go on a date with him has meant I’ve started to reform the other parts of my life, too? Do I ever have a surprise for him. “I don’t steal, I borrow—Dad.” I roll my eyes pointedly, despite the fact that he can’t see them behind the glasses.

  “Look, this is Chicago. If you steal someone’s car here they’re not just going to give you a slap on the wrist; you’re going to jail—Cook County jail—and trust me, it’s a craphole.”

  Now I’m getting annoyed. I let out an exasperated sigh. “I told you, I borrowed it. It will be back before he even notices.” I let a little of my annoyance bleed out into my voice. I want him to feel some urgency to get this show on the road. Not nag me about my life choices. “You really are killing the vibe we were having.” I push my glasses back up so he can see my eyes, and fix him with an irritated glare.

  “Vibe? Well, the thought of you getting arrested kind of did that for me.”

  I roll my eyes. Maybe I should have opted for standing him up, after all. “You know, you look like a lot more fun than you are.”

  “What?” He laughs, as if he can’t believe what I just said.

  “I mean, you’re wrapped in muscle and tattoos, this sexy long blond hair…it just reads that you have a ‘fuck it’ attitude, and you sort of don’t. Actually, this was a bad idea.” I’m becoming more and more convinced of that by the minute. I’m on the verge of just telling him to get out of the car.

  He looks over at me, a strange expression crossing his face. “You want to see my fuck it attitude?�
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  And then before I can respond, he laughs and pulls the glasses off of my head, tossing them onto the dashboard. I start to snap something at him, but he grabs my face with his hand, turning me towards him, and then his mouth is on mine.

  Now this kissing, what I used to imagine it to be. This is definitely not the tight lipped kisses I give Johns with their fat tongues being lazy in my mouth. His tongue is expert and coaxing almost every no I’ve ever had out, like he’s searching for the yes I’ve never given. For a second I just go limp in his arms, not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do or how to respond, and he takes full advantage. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me up out of the seat and against him, and his tongue snakes between my lips and into my mouth.

  I feel him groan against my lips, the vibration of it sending a shiver down my spine, and suddenly I feel it—the want. It floods my body, making me hot and cold all at once, and I remember why I’m here—to take control of this, to do it my way.

  Without a second thought, I swing my leg over the armrest and settle into his lap, my hands sliding from his hard, washboard stomach up to his chest. I can feel him beneath me, rigid through the fabric of his jeans, and when I sink down onto him, grinding slightly into his lap, the pressure of it sends a wave of pleasure through me and I can’t help but whimper a little. I want him, right here in the parking lot, and as he starts to fumble with the buttons to put the top up, I realize he’s thinking the same thing.

  This isn’t how I want it, though. Not some quick fumble behind a bar. I don’t know what I want, exactly—not romantic, but something…better. “Let’s go to the beach,” I say suddenly, pulling back from the kiss and taking a deep breath. I press my forehead against his, my eyes wide and bright as I wiggle once more in his lap, and then slide back into my own seat, settling down and reaching for my glasses as if nothing has happened.

  “The beach? It’s not even seventy degrees out,” he argues, and my eyes flick down to his groin. I can still see the bulge there—an impressive one—and I can’t resist teasing him.