Show Me How (It's Kind Of Personal Book 2) (2 page)

His laugh makes me laugh. “I’m not scared of the dark.” He walks over and squats down in front of me. The tip of his index finger slides down the side of my face, and I suck in a breath. His lips find mine in a soft, gentle kiss. Slow, sweet, perfect. “Happy birthday, Mary.”

I fight the urge to pull him back and demand more from him, but the shock has me firmly planted, unable to move.

“It is the perfect date,” I whisper, quoting a line from my favorite movie.

“Not too hot, not too cold,” he says back, just as soft as I did.

“All you need is a light jacket.”

His eyes sparkle and he kisses me again then walks out and shuts the door behind him.

* * *

Brandon just parked the car in the lot of a Halloween haunted house, and I’m already regretting my decision to come. It was originally supposed to be a big group of guys from the baseball team along with us, but they all bailed at the last minute, going to a house party instead. I tighten the earrings he got for my birthday six months ago, a habit I’ve developed for fear they’ll fall out.

“Why are we still going?” I ask him.

“Because it’ll be fun.” He walks around to open my door.

“I hate these things, Brandon. Who purposely wants to be scared?” My hand pulls at the door, showing him my hesitation.

“Come on. It’s not scary. It’s fun.” He grabs my hand and tugs me toward the entrance.

“Fine, but I plan on keeping my eyes shut the whole time and following you.”

He laughs. “How are you going to follow me if your eyes are shut?”

“I’ll just hold on to your shirt or something.”

“You’re such a baby.”

I punch him in the shoulder, and he mocks injury. He pays for the tickets, and as we stand in line I shiver from the cool fall air. Strong arms come around me and his hands run up and down my arms, trying to bring warmth. Little does he know that every time he touches me, my body ignites, starting a fire low in my belly that only he can put out.

“Next!”

It’s our turn in the line, and before we enter, a man offers to take our picture for five bucks. I stand in front of the gory backdrop, huddled into Brandon while the creepy clown snaps the shot and prints it quickly then hands it back to Brandon. He puts it in his back pocket and leads me into the dark, abandoned warehouse.

A chainsaw revs, and I scream, burying my face in the back of his sweatshirt. Shuffling my feet along the floor, I try my best not to run into him, but every time he stops or jumps back, I kick him. “Would you let go and walk next to me? It’s not that bad, I promise.”

“You sure?”

“I’d never lie to you. And I’d never put you in a place where you can get hurt. We’re already halfway through.” His voice holds so much sincerity. I nod and grab his hand as my eyes try to adjust.

I scream every time someone jumps out, which is about every five seconds.
We’ve gotta be almost done.
My heart is pounding from fear, but I can’t help laughing. As we round a corner, we’re suddenly in a pitch-black room, and I’m ripped from Brandon’s grasp.

“Brandon!”

“What the fuck? Mary!”

Loud, creepy music plays and colored lights flash. Doors squeak open and closed. I’m not sure if it’s the sound effects, or if they’re real. The cackling and yelling are so loud, I cover my ears, trying to squint through the darkness to find Brandon.

I yell for him, but there’s no way he can hear me. Someone grabs my arm roughly, and I scream. I’m dragged through the dark room into an even darker hallway and shoved hard against a brick wall.

“Let me go!” I push and hit, trying my best to get away. It’s really hard because I can’t see anything. “You can’t touch me!” I yell at the worker. At least, I think it’s a worker and this is a sick part of the experience.

“I don’t work here, bitch.”

My brain scrambles as I try to take stock of what in the hell is going on. A door opens down the hall, and for a brief moment, light shines through. I open my mouth to scream, but it’s quickly covered. The man holding me—teenager, I should say—is wearing our rival school’s letter jacket and baseball hat.

“Your boyfriend thinks he can embarrass me? First, he hits me with a pitch, then he strikes me out. Then the fucker has the audacity to wink at me when he rounds the bases after his homer.” His voice is filled with so much hatred, my fear rises even more.

“Let me go. Please,” I beg him, but his grip tightens.

“On my home turf!” His spit hits me on the cheek and mixes with my tears as they roll down my face.

His hand releases from my mouth, and he pinches my breast through my sweatshirt, hard.

“Ow! Stop!” I’m not strong enough to push him off me, but I try. I’m panicked and frenzied, trying to fight him. My hand somehow has enough strength to hit him in the face, but it only fuels him on.

“We’ll see how embarrassed he is after this.” Then his hand grabs between my legs and over my jeans.

This is not happening. This can’t be happening. My muscles ache from the fight, my throat is hoarse from screaming. But nobody can hear me. The music I thought was creepy at first is now horrifying, sending chills down my spine.

He kicks my legs out from under me and I fall on my back, but manage to keep my head from colliding with the cement. I spit on him, and he slaps me across the face.

When I scream again, he covers my mouth and I bite his fingers. When he pulls back his injured hand, I think I have a moment to free myself when I see his fist flying through the air, coming right at me. I squeeze my eyes shut and gasp when his weight is suddenly gone.

Red emergency sirens now flash and the lights blind me when they come on, but I quickly adjust and see Brandon in a standoff with the other kid. Blood drips from Brandon’s eyebrow, and his sweatshirt is ripped. I stand and run next to him, but he grabs me and pulls me behind him.

“Come at me, motherfucker,” Brandon taunts. I’ve never heard his voice like this—dark, scary.

I can’t see the other kid from behind Brandon’s back, but the tension in the hallway is palpable.

“You fucking pussy. Put your hands on my girl. Try to outnumber me with your fucking minions. Over a fucking baseball game.” He uses a hand to push me back further. “Come the fuck at me!” He roars, then all I see is a frenzy of fists and bodies.

I never thought if I were in a situation like this, I’d not know what to do. But I’m clueless. I call for Brandon, trying to get him to stop, but he ignores me. There’s no way I can get between them. Should I leave? Go get help? No. I can’t leave him. Instead, I stand there while I watch him go blow for blow with some asshole. Brandon’s anger is something I’ve never experienced firsthand. He has a reputation for having a hot temper, but he’s always kept it in check around me.

There’s commotion outside the door, and the security guards bustle in, finally breaking up the fight.

“He was attacking me,” I tell them, pointing at the other kid, but they ignore me and pull them both outside. I follow behind, pleading for them to let Brandon go. He tells me not to worry, and that he’s fine, but I still try. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Please. Let him go.”

Both guys are held by security until the cops get here. I’m not allowed to talk to Brandon anymore, but I stand across the parking lot, both of us watching the other. He spits blood and wipes some dirt from his cheek on his shoulder, all the while his eyes never leaving mine.

When the cops arrive, I give my statement, and they let Brandon go. I run to him and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my head in his chest. He holds me tight and kisses the top of my head. His arms welcome me, but every nerve in his body is tense and on edge.

Because his dad is a cop, word got around fast, and about twenty minutes later, Steve pulls up. I hear his booming voice, and when I look up, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so mad.
Please don’t be mad at Brandon.

His eyes hone in on me, and when he gets close, he pulls me into his arms and gives me a hug. “You all right, honey?”

“Yeah,” I sniffle, “I’m fine. Thanks to Brandon.”

“Don’t you worry. I’ll make those little shits pay for what they did.” He hands me back to Brandon and pats his son on the back before walking away to talk to the other cops.

I don’t know what to say, so I just twist my fingers in my ponytail and cuddle tight with Brandon.

He takes me to his car, and after shutting my door, slowly walks around to his side. He stands by his door, hands his hips, breathing heavy. When he finally gets in, he cups my face in his hand and whispers, “I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life. I thought I lost you.”

Chapter 2

Brandon

I sit on my front porch after dropping Mary off at her house. She insisted that she was fine, but I stayed for a little while to make sure.

I’ve been in some intense situations before. There’s nothing like being one pitch away from breaking the school record or one hit away from a win. In those situations, I thrive. I look my opponents in the eye and silently dare them to push me. An entire baseball field filled with fans—parents, students, and teachers—can either be cheering me on or booing me. It doesn’t matter; I keep calm and play baseball. And I do it well.

Tonight when I couldn’t find her, I thought I was going to pass out. Fear like I’d never felt coiled inside me, and I used every ounce of fight I had in me to get to her. For those minutes I couldn’t see her in the dark, my heart felt like it was going to fall out of my chest. As soon as I got the three minions off me, I ran in the direction I saw her shadow being pulled. I felt the walls and found a door. When I opened it and saw her being groped by that fucker, his arm raised like he was going to punch her, I lost my shit.

Her cry hit me in the gut. Once I got my hands on the fucker who had her on the ground, I’m not sure I would have stopped if the security guards hadn’t pulled me off. Never in my life have I felt that much anger. Not even anger, but a kind of rage I didn’t know existed.

My head jerks up when a car door slams, and I scoot over so my dad can sit down next to me on the step.

“You all right, son?” He squeezes my shoulder.

“Ha. Not sure all right are the words I would use, but physically, I’m fine.” I open and close my fists and hide a wince at the pain from my swelling knuckles.

“I know that. I didn’t teach you to fight so you could get your ass kicked. Proud of you, too. But I’m not talking about your body. I’m talking about your heart.”

I shake my head and lower it in my hands. “It’s my job to protect her, and I didn’t do it.”

“I’m not so sure. You fought off three guys your own size and saved her from God only knows what. I think you did a fine job.”

“He never should have been able to touch her in the first place.”

“You were taken off guard and outnumbered in a dark haunted house. You did the best you could. And your best was pretty damn good.” He leaves no room for argument.

I shrug and continue to stare out toward the street. He stands and says, “I know you love that girl. We all love her. And pretty soon you’ll be old enough to make the kinds of decisions about her that will change your relationship. But I still stand by my rule. You wait until you’re out of high school.”

I nod, and he goes inside, the slamming screen door signifying that I’m alone again. He told me about the Mary rule when I was fifteen. Apparently, he saw the way I was looking at her and lectured me that night. He told me that she was too special to ruin our friendship with teenage hormones. If I tried anything with her, he wouldn’t allow her to ‘sneak in’ at night anymore. He only allows it because he knows her parents are worthless.

Mary doesn’t tell me anything about them other than they’re not home a lot, and when they are, she still feels alone and sometimes scared. I’ve asked my dad to look into them, see what’s going on, but he just tells me to keep doing what I’m doing and that he’s keeping an eye on things.

I’m also afraid to give in to my feelings because I’m afraid it will ruin our friendship. She’s my best friend, and I love her more than anything. I don’t want that to change.

* * *

We’re a week from graduation, and I’m playing in my last high school baseball game out of state tomorrow. It’s Friday night and Mary and I are in an epic MarioKart battle.

“Stop being a jerk and let me pass!” she yells and bumps me with her shoulder. Her bare shoulder. The tight red tank top hugs her body perfectly, and I can’t stop the heat that runs down my arm straight to my dick.

Our eighteenth birthdays were about a month ago, and I’m still trying to keep our friendship intact. We’ve made out a few times, dry humped a little, but I don’t let it go any further. I just can’t. I promised my dad I would wait until we were out of high school. If I’m anything, it’s honest, and for all he’s done, all the times he’s let her sleep over, I can’t betray his trust. My dick doesn’t agree, but it’s just a little while longer, then I have big plans for us.

“Nope. Sorry. I love you, but I won’t ever let you win.” I chuckle when her Princess Peach car spins and falls off the track.

“You’re such an ass.” She throws the controller on the coffee table and pouts. Her crossed arms make her boobs sit higher, practically spilling out of the flimsy shirt.

I’m painfully hard now and know I need to do something to tame my dick. Clearing my throat, I set my controller down. I’m about to get up when she throws herself on top of me, hands on my neck, and tickles the shit out of me. I should have never told her about the one place I’m ticklish.

“Dammit, Mary. Stop!” I laugh and try to grab her quick fingers. She squirms around and stills when she lands on my throbbing erection.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Her eyes bore into mine, and I hiss when she grinds onto me. Holy shit, she feels good. Hot. So damn hot.

Her hands slowly slide up my neck and fist my hair. Leaning down so her mouth is inches from mine, she whispers, “Brandon,” then circles her hips again.

“Mary. Stop,” I plead, squeezing her hips, not sure if I’m pushing her away or pulling her closer.

“Please,” she begs.