Sweet: (Intermix) (True Believers) (23 page)

“Jessica!” Jayden called her name from the kitchen. “Can you come here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there, buddy.” She set down her fork. “Be right back.”

Jayden was eighteen but he had Down syndrome and I knew that Rory and Jessica both cut him a lot of slack. If he asked for attention, they gave it to him, and I was totally grateful for the interruption. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could lie to direct questions.

As Jessica went into the kitchen, the guy on the couch suddenly coughed. I turned and saw dark eyes staring at me. He had rolled onto his back and was sitting up on the arm roll, his hair sticking up in front. My palms got clammy and I stared back, horrified.

Not only was he completely and totally hot, he had obviously been awake for more than thirty seconds. He looked way too alert to have just opened his eyes.

“Uh, hi. I’m Robin,” I said, my hands starting to shake. What had we said? Nothing incriminating, I didn’t think. I hadn’t admitted anything. Though I had said anal out loud and that was awkward enough. All those nasty jokes about prison popped into my head and my cheeks burned.

His expression was inscrutable, but he nodded. “Phoenix.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, because that’s what you say even if there was zero truth to it. It wasn’t nice to meet him. He was a criminal and I was a lying cheat and I was way too preoccupied with my own self-hatred to have anything interesting to say to him.

“Yeah. Sure.” He sounded about as enthusiastic as I felt.

Agitated, I sat down on the coffee table next to the couch, wiping my hands on my denim shorts. “Sorry if we woke you up.”

He shrugged. “No big deal.”

I wasn’t sure what to say after that. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and like his cousins, he had tattoos covering his chest and arms. The one that caught my attention was the bleeding heart. It looked severed in two, the blood draining down his flesh toward his abdomen. It was beautiful and creepy and bold. Was it a metaphor? It seemed a little poetic for the average guy, but something about his steady stare suggested he was no ordinary guy. His dark hair stuck up then fell over one eye, so it felt like he had an extra advantage, that he could watch me from behind that cascade of hair.

Jessica hadn’t told me why he had been in jail and I decided I really didn’t want to know. Phoenix was trouble and trouble was exactly what I was trying to avoid.

“I’m not a big fan of anal either,” he said.

Giving or receiving? I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me. He didn’t seem to be trying to lighten the mood with a joke for my benefit since he still looked stone faced. It made me super uncomfortable.

“We thought you were asleep.”

“What difference does it make? You didn’t confess to a crime.”

Thank God. “I don’t like just anyone hearing my personal business. You don’t even know me.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” He threw back the blanket that had been covering him below the waist and he stood up. He was in his underwear, black boxer briefs that clung to his thighs. “Robin.” He added my name at the end like it was an accusation.

His body was lean and wiry, yet muscular. He looked like he worked out constantly, but had been born with a raging high metabolism, so he would never be bulky, but every muscle was obvious, the V of his hips so defined, it made my mouth thick with saliva in a totally inappropriate way for the situation. He bent over and picked up a pair of shorts off the floor, stepping into them and drawing them up. But he left them partially unzipped and the belt clanked against his thighs as he moved out of the living room and down the hall into the bathroom without another word to me.

I watched him, unnerved. There was something hard about him, mysterious. His name suited him, unusual and intriguing. Annoyed with myself, I went into the kitchen, where Jessica was clearly laying out the situation for Tyler.

“So what are we going to do? Kylie and I were supposed to share and Rory and Robin each had their own room, but now there’s an empty room completely.”

“Can you guys just break the lease?” Riley asked. “I mean, what difference does it make? Everyone can move out.”

“My dad and Rory’s dad are the ones who signed the lease. I don’t think either one of us needs to piss our dads off any more.”

Riley frowned. “No. That’s no good.” He looked at me. “I guess you should find a replacement, since you’re the one moving out.”

Hovering in the doorway, I crossed my arms over my chest, miserable. “I’ll just move home and I’ll pay my portion of the rent. I can cover it with my paychecks from waitressing.”

I was trying to be fair. To not stick them with either a bigger rent or with a roommate they didn’t know and may not get along with, but Jessica’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Wait a minute. So you’d rather live at home with your parents who are like sixty years old, and your ancient, evil-eye-giving grandmother, while paying rent on a place you don’t live in, than room with Kylie and Rory? Okay, I call bullshit. What the fuck is going on?”

When she put it like that, it did sound insane. “Nothing is going on. I just need time to . . . reevaluate.”

But Jessica was tenacious. “There is something going on and you need to tell me what it is.”

Phoenix strolled into the kitchen, scratching his chest, and went to the fridge. “I think if she wanted to tell you she would have already,” he commented.

That about summed it up.

“And who asked you?” Jessica said, whirling to glare at him as she yanked Jayden’s empty plate out from in front of him and started scrubbing it aggressively in the sink.

“Just an observation.”

“Well, mind your own business.”

“I think Robin would probably say the same to you.”

They stared at each other and I felt the tension between them. Phoenix being in the house obviously upset the balance of Jessica being house princess. She was a strong personality, and she enjoyed being the only girl in the house. Somehow Phoenix was challenging her, and it was obvious to Riley, too. He held up his hand.

“Alright, chill out. Both of you.”

“Please don’t fight because of me,” I pleaded, feeling even more horrible with each passing second. “Just please don’t.” And to my horror, I started crying, tears welling up and rushing out of both eyes silently.

Everyone looked at me in shock and no one seemed to have a clue what to say. I wasn’t known for being particularly emotional. Fortunately, Easton intervened. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to draw me?” He tapped the canvas Tyler had propped on the floor next to the table. “When are you doing that?”

“Now,” I said, taking an empty seat next to him and wiping my face, concentrating on drawing my breath in and out, slowly, evenly. “I just need some space.”

That was definitely a metaphor.

Jessica went into the other room, clearly agitated, and Riley followed her, murmuring in a low voice. Tyler encouraged Jayden to go outside and shoot hoops with him. It left me at the table, methodically squeezing my oils into my paint tray, Easton across from me, bouncing up and down on his chair, and Phoenix leaning on the counter eating rice straight out of the container.

He was watching us, but I ignored him. Yellow, pink, blue. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. If I just focused on one thing at a time, I could function.

And it actually felt good to have my brush in my hand, the smell of the acrylics familiar and soothing. I felt calmer.

There was a knock at the back door and Easton jumped. “Who is that?”

“It’s probably my girlfriend,” Phoenix said. “Or my ex-girlfriend if this conversation doesn’t go well. She’s supposed to come over.”

So of course the gorgeous bad boy had a girlfriend, despite his incarceration.

Phoenix opened the back door and I have to admit, I tried to pretend I was busy working, paintbrush in my hand as I used a bold magenta to do the outline of Easton’s head. But I snuck a glance up at the girl who walked into the kitchen and I tried not to be judgmental. She looked hard. Older than she probably was. Bad dye job, turning naturally brown hair bleach blond, drying the texture out. Lots of eyeliner. Bad skin. Her jeans were too tight in the waist and too big in the butt. Not the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen but maybe she was super sweet. And who was I to judge?

“Hey,” she said and tried to kiss Phoenix.

He shifted out of the way and rejected her effort. “Why didn’t you come see me when I was locked up?” he demanded with no other greeting. “Not once. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, Angel.”

Oh, God, seriously? Her name was Angel? I threw up a little in my mouth. I couldn’t think of a name less suited to a girl who looked like she could beat the shit out of me if I looked at her wrong. Carefully, I set down my paintbrush and pushed my chair back. Clearly this was a private conversation and I had enough drama of my mine. I didn’t want to be involved in someone else’s.

“Who are you?” she asked angrily, shooting me a glare as the noisy scraping sound of the chair made her aware of my presence.

“I’m just going in the other room,” I said carefully, not wanting to go a round with her. I had no doubt I would lose, especially in my current emotional state. Easton obviously felt the same way. He bolted into the living room without a word.

“Good,” Angel said, playing with the ring in her nose.

“She doesn’t have to leave,” Phoenix said, gesturing for me to stay. “This is only going to take a minute. So what did you want to tell me, Angel?” He crossed his arms and leaned on the kitchen counter.

I stood up anyway, despite his words.

“I’m pregnant.”

I couldn’t prevent a gasp from leaving my mouth. Yeah, I should have left the room. But Phoenix didn’t react at all. His face never revealed any surprise, and the only movement he made was to flick his eyes over her flat stomach.

“You don’t look six months pregnant to me.”

“I’m not. I’m only two.”

He’d been in prison more than five months. Jessica had said that. I knew that. What I didn’t know was why I cared one way or the other about it being his baby, but I felt horrified for him that he’d been cheated on, and a little bit of relief that he wasn’t the father.

“Then I don’t need to know that.” Phoenix went and opened the door. “Bye, Angel.”

“Don’t you even want to know what happened?” She looked disappointed. “Who the father is?”

“No. All I wanted was to know for sure that we’re broken up, and we clearly are, so good luck. Lose my number.”

“You’re an asshole,” she said.

I wasn’t sure how he qualified as the jerk in this situation, but I kept my eyes on the canvas as she stomped out the back door, and he slammed it loudly behind her.

“Well, now I guess we’re even,” he said.

I glanced up, curious to see if he was going to rage or look upset. But he didn’t. He looked . . . neutral. “Even how?” I asked.

“Now we both know each other’s personal business.”

I finished my brush stroke. “True. And I’m going to stay out of it, like you did with me.” I just wanted to paint, to lose myself in the wet sound of sliding paint.

He came over and looked down at my canvas. “You don’t need Easton here to paint? You’re doing it from memory?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

He watched me for a minute, and I didn’t actually mind. I didn’t need quiet or solitude to paint pop art and it felt good to lose myself in the narrow focus of creating lines on canvas. But while I wanted to respect his privacy, I also knew that it had to have hurt him that his girlfriend hasn’t visited him in prison, that she had cheated on him. I also felt guilty that I was a cheater, that if it ever came out, I would be the one causing pain. I hated that.

“I’m sorry,” I told him, glancing up, hoping he would understand.

“For what?”

I didn’t want to be specific. I didn’t think he would appreciate that. “For what I heard. For what you heard.”

“That you heard it? Or because it happened?”

“Both. But mostly that it happened. It hurts, I know. And I’m sorry.”

Phoenix shrugged. “I’ll live. I’ve survived worse.”

I wanted to say that she wasn’t good enough for him anyway, that she was a liar and a cheat and a shitty girlfriend who didn’t deserve him, but did I really know that? And if I was no better than her, did I have any right to say anything?

“Sometimes we do stupid things.” Very stupid things. Sometimes we needed forgiveness.

“Yeah. Some of us more than others.” Phoenix pulled out a chair and sat down across from me. “I’ve never painted before. I sketch. It must be hard to get the subtlety of the lines and the shading in paint.”

“You sketch?” I asked, amazed, then not sure why.

He nodded. “And I do tattoos. I guess the difference is with oil paint you layer on top, right? With a tattoo you do a little, but mostly it’s about precision and shading.”

“Do you have pictures of your work?” I asked, curious to see it. The idea of tattooing someone with a needle scared me. There was no retracting a mistake.

Sort of like life.

“Nah. But I did the original design for my cousins’ arm tat, the one they all have, and I did Tyler’s dragon on his leg.”

“Cool. That dragon is beautiful.”

“Thanks.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “We’re a fucked-up family, you know. We haven’t always gotten along, depending on whose mom was hooking the other on what drugs.”

“Why aren’t you living with your mom?” I finished the outline of Easton and started shading in his strong features. Even in the brilliance of yellow and magenta, I wanted to capture the deep sensitivity of his eyes.

“I don’t know where she is. She didn’t leave a forwarding address.”

So not only had his girlfriend cheated on him when he was in jail, his mom disappeared and neglected to tell him? I wasn’t sure I could be so casual about it. In fact, I knew I couldn’t. My parents were all about family. They loved me and my older brothers in a way that was almost smothering, and I was grateful for it. “Oh my God, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “She’ll turn up eventually. But Riley and Tyler are being cool and letting me stay here.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. “Family seems important to them.”