Fall Guy (9 page)

The edge of laughter fades and his smile twists into a hard scowl. "Sounds like you were with pricks."

"Pricks, dicks,
fuckheads
, assholes,
douchebags
, and all as
sortments of your basic
garden-variety
loser.
Darling, you name an unsavory character from ar
ound here
and chances are I made out with him.
Or worse."

I tilt my sunglasses down and
play-act
a cheeky smile that makes the steel bands of a migraine start to take hold at my temples.

"You're happy about that?" His words are forged out of iron.

I give a shrug that's supposed to seem thoughtless, careless, but feels like I'm trying to shrug the coils of a venomous snake off my shoulders.

"I'm not happy or unhappy. I have trul
y terrible taste in guys and have gotten
screwed over by more than I can count, but I like me a bad boy. Stop giving me that look! I'm young. This is the time in my life when I'm supposed to experiment and get burned."

"Getting burned is one thing." He rolls his neck like he's trying
to break up
tension
in his muscles
. "Spending time with guys who treat you like shit is another. You dated Rabin Francis, didn't you?"

Rabin's name scratches against my ears like a wire brush on an old metal pan. I wished I never mentioned my shithead ex-boyfriend when we were talking during the last community service session.

"So?" I snap, pulling my sunglasses off my face in frustration.

"So, he was all over the news for assaulting some dancers." There's a long pause, and the next words out are more rising growls than actual syllables. "Did he do anything like that to you?"

His lips curl back and h
is eyeteeth hang out, like a wild animal
about to jump for a jugular.

"No! I
mean,
nothing that bad." I dig my heels into the floorboards and breathe through my nose to
slow the words that are struggling
to burst out of my mouth.
"Nothing like that.
And I can handle myself, okay? I broke up with him because he cheated...well, he also got arrested. And
things had been escalating, so I had to get out sometime."

Sweat dampens under my armpits and coats my palms. I feel gross. I feel trapped. How did it all flip so quickly? I wanted easy and sweet and fun, and this is terrible and so freaking wrong.

"That's a lot of excuses. How long did you put up with him for?" Winch's words snarl out of his mouth, and I detect the faint aroma of disgust.

My gut twists.

"Look, like I said, it was my choice. Okay?
Mine
. I decided to date him because he was hot and wild and I wanted to be around him. I decided not to date him because he was also an asshole and did some seriously stupid things. But a lot of guys I've been out with have been like that. So..." I shake my head. "I guess I can just chalk it up to the fact that something about me loves an asshole, and something about assholes gets off on yanking my chain."

I'm so close to tears, my eyes feel like they've been chemically burned. My throat is reduced to a tiny alley that lets my panicked breath crawl and stumble in and out.

Winch's hand fists over the steering wheel. "I do
n't know who’
s stupider.
You or them."

Magma-hot heat bursts through me and makes me see bright silver spots in front of my eyes. "Well, that's
just
over-the-line fucking rude."

"Rude my ass.
It's honest and you need to hear it from someone. Don't brag about the fact that guys treated you like shit, Evan." His voice is a midnight cannonball into a winter-frigid lake, and the chills that rush up and
down my spine leave me shaky. And to top my discomfort off, much as I want him to just shut up, h
is voice continues to pummel me. "You think it's cute? You think it makes you badass?"

The fault lines of this date run deep, and the jostling anger of my feelings threatens to tear it apart.

"Pull over." My voice bounces the words so hard, they border on a stutter.

"No way."
He accelerates slightly and pulls down streets even I don't know, and I've roamed Savannah since I could toddle. "You
wanna
see badass? Do you?
Cause
I can take you places where guys are fucking animals, Evan. Animals who don't give a fuck. They scare the shit out of
me
, and I'm not a pussy by any stretch of the imagination.
And if you end up with one of them because you think it’s cute to date fuck-ups…I don’t even want to think about what could happen. It isn’t a game, Evan. It isn’t a goddamn joke. It’s serious, and you should take it seriously.
"

I grip the handle of the door and tug, but Winch swings the car to the shoulder and brakes before I can jam it open.

The night is still sweet and deep, filled with the happy crush of groups of friends walking to bars, the low hum of a million insects, the roar of the engine of some sporty car showing off as it buzzes past us down the street, and a promise of wild fun that only the late, lazy yawn of summer can hold.

I wish I could stop the shivers that rip through me and enjoy all of this beauty instead.

"I'm getting out," I say in a slow, firm voice. "This date is so over. I'm going to call a car and get dropped off at home. I'll be perfectly safe, but you're a fucking jerk, and this date is over."

I open the door and slide out, and for a second Winch
does
nothing at all, which makes relief and sadness tango cheek to cheek in my heart. Then his door opens and slams shut hard enough to rock the car back and forth.

I walk fast, glad that I didn't have time to change into the dangerously adorable sex-kitten heels I'd usually be wearing on a Saturday night
date
downtown. Winch's boot-steps trail me.

"Go home, Winchester. This date is over!" I glance over my shoulder and shoo him with a
flick of my fingers.

His mouth tightens. "I'm not letting you walk through this part of town alone.
I'm
not an asshole."

His implication burns like acid in the back of my throat. "Actually, aren't
I
the best judge of that, asshole? And I've been walking Savannah by myself since I was in middle school, so get lost."

I'm so busy mouthing off, I don't notice a high spot in the cement and half trip. I would have been perfectly capable of catching myself, but Winch is right next to me, his hand cupped under my elbow, and I'm pissed that I need his assistance for even a second. I plan to shake his hand off and run far away from this miserable failure of a date. But once he has his hands on me, he grips too tight for me to get away.

"You're hurting me," I hiss as he turns me to face him.

"I could never hurt you as bad as you
try to
hurt yours
elf," he answers
with chilly calm.

A tiny voice inside my head screams in his direction
,
How
could you know that?

We stand on the sidewalk, and I make a quick attempt to yank a
way from him, but it's pointless to try
, so I focus on his gorgeous, glowering face, cursing my bad luck in picking y
et another control-freak
douche
bag
. His hands slide down to my elbows and
then
open up, letting me go, and he shoves them firmly into the depths of his pockets.

"If I let you wait with me while I call a car, will that be good enough for you?" I press my hands palm-to-palm in front of me, prayer style, and his glower deepens. "What? What do you want then?"

He kicks at the cement. "I want to rewind tonight. Start over. Make it right."

"I've given a lot of
guys
second chances when I shouldn't have. But you know all about
how
stupid
I am when it comes to relationships, right?"

My voice whips out and smacks at the lazy night air. His eyes, so dark denim blue, feel like they're soaking up the puddle of all my crazy emotions.

"Fair. But I only got pissed because..." He trails off and shakes his head. "If I try to explain, I'll fuck up more." He digs his hands out of his pockets and grabs mine by the tip
s
of my fingers. "Give me five minutes."

He smiles, and it's beyond contagious; it's viral. My lips tug up despite my efforts to keep stone-faced, so I roll my eyes to offset them.

He holds up one hand, fingers splayed apart. "That's all I'm asking for. Five minutes, clean
slate, then you decide
what you want from this night. Fair?"

I shake my head and sigh. "I guess." I slide out my cell phone. "It's 7:38. You have until 7:43." I set the alarm and purse my lips at him. "You're on a timer, monkey boy. Dance for me."

He holds his hand to me and it takes me two beats, maybe three, before our fingers are thread
ed together and we’re
clean-slated, wounds licked and pushed back just for these five short minutes.

He starts walking
,
and I keep pace next to him. He clears his throat. "First minute I saw you? I thought you were trouble."

My laugh tumbles out
before I can stop it. "When I first saw you, I thought you were cocky."

He nods. "Not too far off the mark." His fingers squeeze mine tighter. "You were sitting on the floor, and I thought you had great hair, you know?
Shampoo commercial hair."

"Shampoo commercial, huh?" I bump my shoulder against his. "Do you write sonnets? Because you've got what it takes to make a girl's heart melt all over the place."

"Sonnets, huh?
I've never written one before. But I'd give it a try for you."

If he was still teasing, I'd have winked or pretend-sighed, but the half-crook of his eyebrow lets me know he's serious, and the idea of him toiling over some long, complicated poem to me, for me, turns me on so hard and fast, I feel a telltale heat between my legs.

"But it was when you looked up that I knew I was in trouble.
That face
..." He shakes his hand. "So damn
gor
geous,
and so
furious.
I
thought I was
gonna
charm you
and all that
, make you see what a nice guy I am
and get you to fall for me a little
. And you looked pissed as hell. I felt like...I felt like I was finally looking at someone who
could understand all the crazy shit I feel and have to push back every day.”

I stop walking and stare at him, the way his eyes seem to pace back and forth, the lock and release of his jaw, and I want to kiss him so badly, it's embarrassing. Especially considering what a rude bas
tard he was a few minutes ago
.

My problem was always falling too hard, too fast, without listening to the warning bells ringing clear as day.

I can't tell if they're ringing right now, but it would make sense if they
’ve ru
ng so
loud for so long, I’ve
just become
deaf to their noise.

"I know I said I wouldn't try to explain why I got so pissed, but you deserve an explanation, even if you only give me these five minutes,
then
never talk to me again, okay?" He cups one palm against my face and runs
his fingertips along my cheek, the sharp focus in his eyes suddenly blurred
. "
You're tough. And that is so unbelievably attractive. But there’s this softness in you
, t
oo, and I know it’s not a piece of yourself that you put out there for everyone. But I love when I get glimpses of it
."

He drops his voice. "I was a dick...I
am
a dick because I liked you the minute I saw you.
And when you told me about the other guys, how they fucked you over, I swear to god, I never felt more like kicking some ass, Evan. And part of me felt--" He slides both hands to my shoulders and holds on tight. "Part of me felt like I better be damn sure I'd never do anything like that to you. So I was pissed at them and pissed at me, and a little pissed at you for not realizing that you're worth so much more than that. That you should never, ever let anyone treat you that way. So I'm sorry. I really am. Trust me, that little outburst wasn't in the plan."

Goosebumps run up and down my arms and legs, I feel hot, and the blood rushes quick and deafening in my ears. "So, there was a plan?"

He nods, his mouth twisted to the side.
"A good plan.
Slick as hell, romantic, the whole nine."