Page 22 of Dark and Dangerous

I stare at him, unblinking, refusing to show my true emotions.

“I crossed a line,” he adds after a beat. “Faking it is all I can give you right now.”

“Right.” I drop my gaze and nod slowly, mad at myself for not being able to see this coming. “Well, can you fake give me a ride home? It’s athousand degrees out, and I’m sick of my legs sticking to the shitty leather on the bus.”

“No.”

“No?”

He heaves out a sigh, so done with my presence. “If I do this once, you’re going to expect it always and I don’t want to be responsible for that.”

“Wow…”

“Or foryou.”

“Holy shit,” I mumble.

He shrugs. “What if I’m sick and I don’t tell you and you’re late to school and you miss out on a test or something? Or what if you’re sick and you don’t tell me, and I’m late to practice? Or worse—a game.”

“See, they invented these things called phones. You know, that thing that you were just on, and you can do things like text and call on those?—”

“Your friends are watching.”

I puff out a breath, frustrated, and cross my arms. “And?”

“Should I kiss you or something?” This boy is delusional.

“No.” I drop my hands to my sides and step closer. So close I can feel the heat radiating off him. Then I settle my palm on his chest, feel his pulse beat heavily beneath my flesh, before rising to my toes so my mouth is almost to his ear. A smile tugs on my lips when I whisper, “But, you know what you should do?”

His exhale is shaky, inhale the same. “What?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

13

Jace

Through the windshield, I stare at the darkness ahead of me, my fingers still grasping the keys in the ignition. I’d killed the engine minutes ago, but now I don’t know what to do.

A part of me is frozen in fear.

The other half wants to flee.

It’s the same old story when it comes to my grandpa.

It was just before midnight when the call came through from the store, or the bar, or whatever the hell people call the place. My grandpa had been there since last night, which isn’t unusual for him. He tends to pass out with his head on the bar top, sitting on a chair that I’m almost positive has an imprint of his ass embedded into it.

Mae, the owner of the fine establishment, usually closes up for the night and goes home to her house attached to the store. She lets him sleep it off there because it’s easier than trying to get him to move. Most nights, it isn’t a problem. Tonight, he woke up and stumbled into her kitchen to relieve himself.

That’s when she called me, apologizing for the inconvenience.

My grandpa is inherhouse, urinating where she prepares her food, andshe’sthe one who’s sorry? Swear, sometimes I wonder if people would still be as nice to me as they are if I wasn’t as good at ball as I am. I wonder how they’d treat me if I was just another generic asshole kid with no real future ahead of me.

I had to practically carry my grandpa out of Mae’s house and into my van, where we’re currently sitting, side by side, only inches apart, but it feels like there’s light years between us. My shoulders rise with my heavy, yet silent, intake of breath. The last thing I need is to make a sound that he could construe as defiant. “Do you think you can walk?” I ask, my tone flat.

“I’m not a fucking invalid, kid,” he grumbles.

I press my lips tight before opening my door, stepping out, and waiting for him to do the same. After a solid minute passes, the passenger door finally opens, followed by a groan, then a thud, anumph, and then moaning. With a heavy sigh, I take my time walking around the van. Grandpa’s laid out flat on his stomach, his arms outstretched at his sides, and it reminds me of little kids pretending to be airplanes. Only this airplane crashed and burned over ten years ago. I squat down beside him, my hand gentle on his shoulder. “I’m going to turn you over, okay?”

---