Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl (6 page)

Crap. I didn’t think it through very well. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of your dad.” I reached for the snow globe. “I can get rid of it if you want.”

She tucked it behind her back, shaking her head. “No way. I love it too much. Plus, it’s from
Paris
.”

I relaxed, wondering why I was so nervous. “Good. I’m glad you like it. My mom tried to talk me into buying you a bracelet, but I told her you weren’t a bracelet kind of girl.”

“No, I’m definitely not.” Willow fell into step with me as we headed up the stairway, staring at the snow globe in her hand. Luna and Wynter followed, lost in their own conversation.

“So, how was your summer?” I asked, hoping to distract her from thoughts of her jerk of a father who bailed on her and her mom. “You didn’t have any problems, right? I mean, with your mom?”

“I guess not … Her new boyfriend moved in with us about a month ago … He has a cat …” She sighed, rotating the snow globe in her hand. “I think I’m allergic to cats. I wake up every day sneezing, and my eyes are always red.”

“Aw, Wills, I’m so sorry.” I draped an arm around her and steered her to the side as I maneuvered the door open. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do.” Her frown deepened as we wandered down the busy hallway with Luna and Wynter still trailing behind us. “You know how my mom gets … And it’s just a cat.” Another stressed sigh. “It just sucks because her stupid boyfriend doesn’t even like kids. He told me that when he moved in, that he hates kids and that I need to make sure I stay out of his way or he might have to send me off to boarding school.” She shook her head, folding her fingers around the snow globe. “Like he could really do that. He doesn’t even have a job.”

I hated that her mom put her boyfriends above Willow and that she brought such sketchy guys into the house. I once offered to let Willow live in one of our five guest rooms so she could get away from her mom’s creepy boyfriends. I doubted my parents would notice her living with us, considering they were hardly ever home. But Willow declined like she usually did when I tried to give her things. Even when she needed my help, she had a hard time asking.

I massaged her shoulder. “I should get you a dog, one that’s well-trained and will keep that guy away and the cat, too.”

“My mom would probably get rid of it.” She tucked the snow globe into the side pocket of her backpack then looked at me, forcing a smile on her face. “Tell me more about Paris. Did you see the Eiffel Tower? Oh, please tell me you went to the catacombs.”

Noting the desperate subject change, I started telling her about my trip, even though I really didn’t want to talk about it.

By the time we reached my locker, I noticed quite a few people, particularly guys, glancing in our direction. I figured they were looking at Wynter because that happened a lot. And sometimes guys would come up and ask me about her, see if she had a boyfriend. Later, when I was doodling in math class, I found out that the staring wasn’t about Wynter after all.

“Hey, Beck, can I ask you something?” Levi plopped down into the desk in front of mine. “It’s about that girl Willow you’re always hanging out with.”

I peered up from my doodling, confused. “Okay.”

He twisted in his seat and rested his arms on my desk. “Does she have a boyfriend?”

His question threw me off guard.

Willow
?

My Willow
?

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Normally, with Wynter, I answered honestly. Now, I found myself desperate to lie, to say that she did have a boyfriend so Levi wouldn’t ask her out. Not that I didn’t like Levi; I just didn’t want Willow to have a boyfriend.

“She does, actually.” I sat back in my seat. “I think he’s a grade ahead of us.”

“Really?” Levi frowned, thrumming his fingers on top of the desk. “Well, that sucks. She seems pretty cool. Plus, she’s hot.”

I shrugged, feeling a little guilty for lying. What would Willow do if she knew what I did? She always trusted me. Did I just break her trust?

What if she wanted to date Levi? Then I’d see less of her, and I barely survived the summer without her.

She trusted me so much, and she hardly trusted anyone.

I sighed and decided to tell her at lunchtime, even though I didn’t want to.

“Levi likes me? Really?” she asked after I sat down at the lunch table and reluctantly told her what happened in math class.

“Yeah. That’s what he said.” I stuffed a handful of chips into my mouth, eyeing her over. “You don’t seem that happy about it.”

“That’s because Levi’s not her type.” Wynter squeezed between Willow and me while Luna took a seat across the table.

“You have a type?” I asked Willow.

She shook her head, but a blush crept up her cheeks. “No.”

“Yes, you do.” Wynter popped the tab of her soda. “You told me this summer that you liked—”

Willow threw a carrot at Wynter, pegging her right in the face. “Shush. You promised you wouldn’t tell.”

I frowned. Willow told Wynter a secret that she didn’t tell me?

“Hey,” Wynter whined, chucking the carrot back at Willow. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Willow ducked out of the way, and the carrot fell onto the floor. “Well, you promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“What’s the big deal?” Wynter asked, tearing open a bag of chips. “So, you like a guy? It was bound to happen sometime.”

Willow glared at Wynter. “Stop talking about this in front of everyone.”

My frown deepened. Okay, now I’m part of the
everyone
.

Then the craziest thought occurred to me. What if Willow had a crush on me, and that’s why she was so mad at Wynter? The idea should’ve made me uncomfortable, but honestly, I kind of liked it.

A few moments later, though, Wynter blabbed that Willow had a crush on Dominic, a guy who was a grade above us and wore studded bracelets and, I was pretty sure, eyeliner. That was the day I realized Willow had a type, and I was far from it.

I also realized I had a crush on my best friend.

My crush lasted all through middle school up to our junior year of high school. That year, everything changed. I went from thinking of Willow as my hot best friend to thinking she was a beautiful, kind, smart, caring girl I wanted to kiss all the time.

And I mean, all the fucking time.

I remember the first time I actually considered doing it. We were hanging out at my house, watching some stupid soap opera that was boring as shit, but there was nothing else on. Willow muted the volume and began ad-libbing for the characters. I joined in, and by the time the show was over, we were laughing our asses off.

That’s when my dad walked in and ruined the moment by being his douchey self.

“What the hell are you doing?” He grabbed the remote from my hand and shut off the television. He was wearing a grey suit and red tie, ready to go off to work, on a Sunday, something he did every single week, never taking days off, always worrying about work, work, work. “Get off your ass and do something. Quit wasting your life.”

He wasn’t a horrible guy, just a huge believer that people should spend life working their asses off. The problem was, I loved to mess around, have fun, party, and play sports. I didn’t have big goals or any real plans other than to pass Algebra and kick ass on the soccer field. I knew a lot of people my age who didn’t have any major life goals yet.

“We were just watching TV.” I frowned at the disappointment on his face. “It’s Sunday morning. There’s nothing else to do.”

He crossed his arms and stared me down. “Well, if you had a job, then that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I have a job,” I argued, lowering my feet to the floor.

He laughed, and the noise made my muscles constrict. “Selling shit and lending out money isn’t a job.”

“Why?” I questioned with a crook of my brow. “I make money. Isn’t that what a job is?”

“Watch your tone,” he warned. “And no, that’s not a job … unless you want to work in sales. Is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? Spend hours in a store, trying to bullshit people into buying stuff? And doing so for a crap salary?” His tone dripped with sarcasm. “Sounds pretty rewarding, doesn’t it?”

“Some people have to work in sales. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I’m sure it’s just as hard of work as what you do.” I wanted to add that his job wasn’t all that rewarding, either, that his career as a lawyer had turned him into a liar, a jerk, and a snob. Whatever. There was only so far I could push my father before I had to pay some extreme consequence.

“Get your ass up and come help me at the office,” he snapped. “I’m going to teach you a thing or two about hard work.”

His gaze shifted to Willow, and I had the strongest compulsion to move in front of her, protect her, though I knew my dad wouldn’t harm her. I didn’t even like that she had to sit here and witness his shit-fit.

“You should take my advice, too, young lady. There are better things to do than sit around, wasting your time and my son’s.” He eyed over her cut-offs, her unlaced boots, and the worn T-shirt she was wearing, and disgust flashed in his eyes. “Although, I’d suggest cleaning up a little before you tried to apply for jobs. Most companies won’t hire people who look like they spend their nights sleeping in a cardboard box.”

My hands balled into fists, and I started to rise. I rarely yelled at my dad, but as my lips parted, I knew I was about to scream at him to shut the fuck up.

Before the scream could leave my lips, however, Willow beat me to the punch.

“First of all, I don’t think spending time with your son is a waste of time.” Willow held her chin high, her voice wobbling slightly. “I learn a lot from spending time with Beck. And second, I have a job. Two, actually. So I don’t need your advice.”

My dad blinked, thrown off. Then his eyes narrowed. “What could you possibly learn from my son?” His eyes swept the room littered with candy wrappers and soda cans. “Other than how to sit around on your ass all day and be completely useless?”

God, I hated my father. Nothing I ever did was good enough. And I hated that Willow was here to witness this. Sure, she knew my dad was a dick from the stories I told her and from witnessing him ream me occasionally, but he’d never directed his douchiness on her before.

“He taught me how to play soccer the other day, which let me tell you, took a lot of patience.” Willow counted down on her fingers, her eyes burning fiercely. “He taught me how to drive a stick, helped me open a savings account, showed me how to make interest in it. He’s actually really smart with numbers, but you probably know that already since you’re his dad.” Her lips spread into a smile. “Oh, yeah, and he taught me how to eat cookies and drink milk at the same time, which doesn’t sound like a big deal, but when you’re having a cookie eating contest, it really comes in handy. And winning cookie contests is really important to me. In fact, I’m thinking about going pro. That is, if they’ll let people who look like they live in cardboard boxes enter the competition. I’m not really sure about that. Maybe you know, though, since you’re so smart.”

I wasn’t sure whether to jump in front of her, laugh, or kiss the freakin’ shit out of her.

Steam practically fumed out of my dad’s ears as his gaze shot to me. “Beckett, you have five minutes to say good-bye to your little friend and get ready to go to the office with me. And make sure to dress properly.” Then he turned and stormed out of the room.

Once he was gone, I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding and turned toward Willow. “I’m so fucking sorry about that, Wills. Seriously, I can’t believe he did that.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she insisted. “I already knew your dad was a dick.”

“Still … I should’ve told him to go fuck himself when he said all that stuff to you. I was planning on it, I swear. You just beat me to it.” I grinned. “You’re kind of a badass when you want to be.”

She smiled back at me. “I figured I could return the favor for all those years you stood up for me when kids called me a four-eyed freak. It just sucks that he’s making you go to work with him. I know how much you don’t want to work in an office.”

“I’ll be fine.” I tried to sound convincing and failed epically. “A few days isn’t going to hurt me.”

“Still, if you need me to rescue you, call me.” She scooted closer to me on the couch, and when our knees brushed, my gaze flew to her legs.

She was wearing shorts, something she rarely did and something I had more than fully noticed when she’d showed up at my house. Her legs were so long, and her skin looked so soft. She was gorgeous. I swear to God, some days, it drove me crazy. I thought about touching her all the time, running my fingers up the sides of her legs, maybe even the inside of her thighs. I often wondered, if I did, would she shudder? I imagined she would. Of course, that might have been because I wanted her so badly.

“You’re okay, though, right?” Her voice was crammed with concern as she placed her hand on my leg, drawing my attention away from her legs. “You know what he said wasn’t true, right?”

I blinked the desire away, knowing she’d probably run the hell out of here if she knew my thoughts. Well, either that or kick my ass.

“Yeah … I’m used to his shit by now.” My miserable tone suggested otherwise. I wasn’t even sure my miserableness was because of my dad or from how much I wanted her without having the nerve to make a move.

She poked me in the side, and I flinched but laughed.

“Don’t let him turn you into a wallower. That’s not you. Don’t let him take away who you are.”

“It might be better if he did. I mean, everything he said was kind of true. I don’t really have any direction or goals or anything.” I was being overdramatic. At the same time, I kind of liked hearing her defend me. It made me feel all good inside. I wanted to hug her … kiss her … run my finger up the inside of her thigh …

See? There I went again.

“You have direction and goals,” she said. “They’re just different from his.”

I forced myself to focus on the conversation, carrying her gaze. “And yours.”