Page 2 of It's Not Home Without You

I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t likely, but I wasn’t going to insult him any more right then. Sometimes Rusty could get so testy and dramatic. It was better to let him have the last word than to argue with him about nonsense. Since I wasn't really going to abandon Rusty, I went and sat down on the cold grass. We were stuck on the back roads, and people rarely came this way—it was the trees and the darkness that freaked some people out. For others it was the old bridge. Some swore they had seen the ghost of my mother hanging around. That was funny since the only unfinished business that woman left behind was a bottle of Jack hidden under the sink, because she sure as hell didn’t remember me.

“Your grandpa is going to kill me if he finds out I snuck you out,” Rusty said, bent over the hood of Bow.

“You’re probably right.” I did nothing to try and convince him otherwise. It wasn’t that Grandpa hated Rusty; he just didn’t trust him ever since he found out he could get a girl to drop her panties with pretty words and his smile—and the fact that Rusty was a junior and I was a freshman didn’t have my grandfather jumping for joy either.

I was so freaking dead if I didn’t get home and sneak back in.

“Dude, I think I’m starting to get frostbite. My fingers are cold, and they look blue.”

“That’s just the moonlight, stupid,” he answered.

Just when I was going to give up and leave him alone so I could walk home, not caring for my grandpa's disappointment or his punishment, lights blinded me, making my stomach drop. I held my breath, scared that it was going to be another faded truck, but thank God it wasn’t my grandpa.

It was an old Mercedes, but just because it was old, that didn’t mean it didn’t look new. I knew that car. Everyone knew that car. It was one of Mr. Dunnetts. My stomach sank. This wasn’t a good thing. Most of the Dunnetts were mean and egotistical. There was Prescott, the eldest Dunnett. He was currently a senior, man whore, and certified asshole. Then Maximilian, who was a junior, sporty, and a little nerdy. Their sister, Juliet, was a sophomore, and her friends didn’t like me.

This is going to be interesting.

Rusty seemed to have come to the same conclusion as I did, standing protectively in front of me as the car stoppedright in front of us, blinding us to whoever was behind the wheel.

“Do you guys need any help?”

Rusty’s shoulders relaxed as he walked to meet the person who had come to our rescue. “Max, my man. Damn, am I glad to see you. I could kiss you right now.”

I peeked around Rusty’s shoulders and saw Maximilian. Out of all the Dunnetts, he was my favorite. His looks were often overlooked. He wasn’t in-your-face, insanely hot like Prescott, but he was still good looking. Max was tall and a little lanky, but I was sure that was going to change as he got older. Like his mom, he had russet hair and eyes like moss. Maximilian dressed super preppy—all nice jeans and sweaters. He looked expensive, but the fantastic thing about him was that he was humble, or at least I thought he was. He wasn’t shy, but he was quiet. The words gentleman, total class, and sweetheart were used by the town whenever Maximilian Dunnett was mentioned. He was the town’s golden boy, while I was the wild orphan child.

Someone like him would never notice someone like me. Trust me, I wasn’t pitying myself. It was a fact. I was used to it. My life motto: sticks and stones.

He smiled at us, all perfect white teeth, and I found myself smiling back at him. There was something hypnotizing about his smile. There was a sincerity and innocence to him that was hard to overlook.

“I think I’ll pass on that kiss, Russell. Although, if the pretty girl wants to give it to me, then I can get on board with it.”

Oh my God.

First, he called Rusty by his given name, all prim and proper, and it was cute as hell, and second, he just called me pretty. I knew I wasn’t ugly. All brown hair and big brown eyes, I was good looking, but more often than not, guys made me feel cheap. Right now, the way Max called me pretty, it made me feel like I was more, not just the daughter of the town’s drunk whore.

“That could be arranged, if you can get me home before I get frostbite.” I noticed Rusty’s shoulders tense, not liking my flirtatious tone. It was his fault we were stuck. I may or may not have frostbite, and I wouldn’t mind kissing Max Dunnett.

Rusty could suck it.

Max looked me right in the eyes. It was the first time we had ever had an actual conversation. “It’s merely forty-fives degrees, and there’s barely any wind; you won’t be getting frostbite anytime soon. If it were January at zero degrees with winds going fifteen miles per hour, then I’d say it would have taken around thirty minutes for your fingers to turn black.”

I grimaced at the imagery he presented. He was a little dorky but very charming and sweet. I gave him a wide opening for a kiss that I so wanted to have with him, but he didn’t mention it again. Was I a little bummed? Totally. Still, I couldn’t deny the warmth it brought to my heart. Most guys made lewd comments to me on the daily. It was refreshing not being seen like a ho just because my mother was one.

“Told you, but no you have to be a drama queen.” Rusty, being the typical oblivious dumbass he was, patted my head like I was a little puppy. He’d done that many times before, but he’d never done it in front of Max. Now the whole image I tried to project was shattered. Can you say freshman dweeb? Here, here.

“Max, can you give Gabby a ride home then come back and help me get this baby back on the road?” Rusty ran his hand lovingly over Bow. Meanwhile, I tried hard not to beam. Okay, so maybe Rusty didn’t intend to leave me alone with Max, but I take back calling him an ass.

Snapping out of my moment of shyness, I grabbed Max's arm and led him to his vintage 1957 black Mercedes Benz 300sl. The only reason I knew the car model was because of Rusty, who, unlike me, was all about cars. “You give me that ride, and I’ll give you a kiss.” I grinned up at him, trying not to laugh at his somewhat horrified face. I’d been told I was a little intimidating.

Just a little.

Also headstrong, stubborn, and loud would be applicable. Oh, and we can’t forget talkative; that’s the main one. My grandpa always said I could bullshit my way out of any situation. I could make a killing selling books to blind people.

“Gabby, right?” Max asked after he opened the passenger door, leading me inside his car. No one had ever opened a door for me; it was a little old fashioned.

“No, my name is Freya. Rust says I talk a lot, so he calls me Gabby for, you know, gabbing too much.” I ran my handacross the soft leather of the seat as I watched him walk to the driver’s side. Max wasn’t anything like what I thought he’d be.

The car might be as old as the truck, but it was in pristine condition. I looked through the side mirror, and Rusty was already a small blip in the darkness.

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