The Weight of Destiny (7 page)

Luke’s fingers dig into my arm, his eyes holding mine, both of them fiery.

“Stealing,” I lie. “What else? You’re lucky it’s something small and not B&E or jacking a car. I’m good at that shit.”

It’s then that Luke’s eyes soften. My body gets tighter, more wound-up, a shaken can ready to explode.

“Celebrating his birthday isn’t going to make him come back for you.”

Boom.

The lid bursts off and I jerk my arm free of Luke’s hold. “Maybe it’s because of you. He won’t come back for me because you’re here and he knows you’d rat him out.”

I make it to the door before Luke says, “Don’t go, Ry. Why are we always doing this? You’re my brother. Talk to me.”

Wrong. He hates Dad, and I know that’s who he sees when he looks at me. Everyone says I’m just like Dad. I’m the guy who Luke assumes is selling drugs, stealing, or the one he thinks will hurt Virginia. “
You’re
always doing this, not me. And we’re not brothers in the ways that matter.”

You can’t choose your blood. You don’t have to want to be with them. Luke has no choice but to be here with me, even though it’s not what he wants. I’d choose water over blood any day. I slam the door behind me.

Tanner had my back today. Shane, Dre and Cody would, too, and not because they have to but because they want to.

I have no choice but to walk. I could call Shane, but I don’t feel like partying tonight. He’d be cool and chill with me, but why should I screw up his fun just because my brother is an asshole?

My dad once told me that he liked having a place outside of town because there weren’t as many eyes on him. It made sense to me, and it never really bothered me until tonight, but it’s dark as hell out here. Quiet. I’m not real used to quiet.

And it’s a long ass walk for me to get anywhere.

When the wind blows, I shove my hands in my pocket, hoping it will help to keep them warm. My body shivers but I ignore it and keep going.

It was so fucking stupid to sell my hoodie to try and have a cool night with my brother. It would have been easy for me to get what I wanted without it costing a dime.

Like Dad said, I’m a ghost. It’s easy for me to grab what I need. It’s why they started taking me with them. I remember each and every job, remember when they told me how good I was and how good I would be. They used to tell Dad how lucky he was to have me for a son.

Luke might be perfect in his world, but he doesn’t have the respect I do in mine.

I walk for an hour before a light mist of rain starts hitting my skin. My fingers hold onto my phone. I should call Shane, or Drea. Her house isn’t far from here, and even if we have to go chill in the shed out back, it’d be dry. It’s where she goes when she needs to be alone.

For some reason, though, I keep going.

If you need a ride, call. Please.

Virginia…I could call her. She owes me.

A door slams in my brain, closing those thoughts down before they can grow wings and take flight. The rich girl has better things to do than coming out here to pick up my ass, even if it’s homework or whatever she thinks is so important.

Plus, I’ve always been able to take care of myself, so when a car comes by, I stick my arm out with my thumb up.

Of course, the car passes. Then another. It’s the third car that pulls over. My eyes get big when I see it’s a woman old enough to be my grandma.

“You getting in or what, kid?” she asks.

“Are you sure?” sort of tumbles out of my mouth. Grandmas don’t usually pick up kids who look like me.

“If you’re stupid enough to question a ride in the cold, maybe I’m not.”

An unexpected chuckle falls out of my mouth and I get in. She turns up the heat and I rub my arms to warm up.

“Where you going?” Grandma asks.

“Um…anywhere. Can you drop me off in town?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

She turns up the country music as though the conversation is over. Fine with me. We drive for about ten minutes or so when we come up on the stretch of ocean I came to with my friends the other night. It’s kind of like a ghetto beach where no one goes because they know kids like me hang out there.

The light rain has already stopped. It’s like that here. One second it’s dry and the next a fucking storm is slamming down on you.

I lean forward when I notice a car parked ahead. It looks like whoever owns it tried to hide it in a dark corner of the beach parking.

When Grandma’s lights hit it, I recognize the vehicle.

Virginia.

Before I can slam the door on the words, like I did on my thoughts earlier, my mouth opens and they come rushing out. “Stop. You can let me out here.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

~Virginia~

Dad trusts me. He always has. I’ve never given him a reason not to. I’ve never gotten into trouble or lied. I’ve never been late coming home or had a problem telling him where I am. Because of that, I don’t have a curfew. I tell Dad where I’m going and what I’m doing and when I’ll be home. As long as it’s reasonable, he’s okay with it.

Tonight is the first time in my life I’ve ever lied to my dad about what I’m doing. I don’t even know why I did it. The need to be alone became a magnet. The beach,
this
stretch of beach is the other half, pulling me in. Dad understands wanting to be alone. He wouldn’t understand sitting on an empty beach in a town that’s not known for its upstanding citizens.

Even I don’t understand it.

So I’d lied. I’m supposed to be having a movie marathon with Hailey. I’ll text to let him know if I’m coming home or staying over. I’m officially a liar. That’s not someone I ever thought I’d be and I hate it.

“It’s a little cold for almost drowning tonight,” says a deep voice from behind me. “I don’t have to worry about you going back onto the deathtrap, do I?”

I whip my head around. A heavy, shaky breath deflates my lungs. It’s pierced-lip boy. I knew that before I turned, but it still makes my body relax to see him with my own eyes.

“Oh look, you brought a lantern. How Virginia of you.”

He’s not wearing a jacket, which surprises me. I have my coat on and a blanket wrapped around me and I’m still not exactly warm. “You don’t know enough about me to say what’s ‘Virginia’ of me or not.” Did that come out right? This whole conversation feels weird considering I’m talking about myself.

He doesn’t move, just stands next to me, looking down. There’s a shadow in his eyes I didn’t notice the other two times I’ve seen him, or maybe it wasn’t there. His body language is different too, heavier, if that makes sense.

He shrugs. “I don’t have to know you well to see that’s something you would do, and I never would. That most of my friends never would, either. I know you’re a planner. You must have known you were coming out here tonight instead of it happening by accident, like it did the first time.”

A gasp comes out of my mouth. I didn’t tell him that I hadn't planned to be here the first night, yet he knows. And I definitely wasn’t coming without some sort of light when I knew I’d be here tonight.

“Bet you even have a weapon.” He cocks a brow, but there’s something forced about it.

“Shut up.” I turn away from him. “Or I’ll use it on you.” Yes, there’s a bat under the blanket next to me. There’s nothing wrong with being a smart girl, even when I am moping on a beach at night.

His voice sounds far off when he replies, “You’re smart. That’s a good thing.”

When I look up again, he’s staring out at the water. He’s shivering, but it looks like he’s trying to hide it. I have no business being out here with this boy. No business being out here at all, but especially with him. Still, watching him stand next to me as he looks at the black water in front of us, I wonder if he can somehow feel like I do. Trapped. Scared. Cursed. Alone.

“Obviously smarter than you. It was sprinkling a little while ago. I can’t believe you came out without your jacket. Sit down. You can use some of my blanket. I don’t want you to get pneumonia or something.”

Pierced-lip boy glances down. He gives me a half-grin, looking more like the guy I’ve seen before, while at the same time as though he’s slipping on a mask. “It’s okay to want to be close to me, Virginia.”

No, this boy is nothing like me. I don’t even know how I thought that. “Ugh. Could you be more arrogant? You’re not my type at all.”

My heart does this funny, rapid beat, slow down thing when he sits beside me. I pause a minute, trying to will my arm to stop shaking as I untangle it from the blanket and offer him part of it.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Pause.

“So, what is?” he says looking at me. He doesn’t skirt away from eye contact, I’ve noticed. Lots of the people I know do.

“What is what?”

“Your type. Tell me what rich girl Virginia—the girl with a plan, who likes to hang out at ghetto beach with a lantern and a weapon, but who also does her homework on weekends—looks for in a guy. I’m sure you have a list.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl, right? We all have to dream about having the perfect boyfriend? Someone who will, what…save us? Protect us?” My arm shoots out and I elbow him. This time, my heart freezes. I don’t even know this boy, yet I just elbowed him. And he
is
the kind of boy who belongs on what he calls “ghetto beach,” when we both know I don’t.

My body relaxes when he laughs. “I have a feeling that the night I helped you on the dock is probably the first time someone has had to save you, Virginia Woolf. It will probably be the last, too.”

“Don’t.” I shake my head. Heat, such a contrast to the weather, burns through me. “Don’t call me Virginia Woolf.”

He cocks his head, as though I’m a Rubik’s cube he’s trying to solve. “Sorry. You said your mom named you after her. Didn’t realize it was a biggie. Who is Virginia Woolf, anyway?”

At this, I can’t stop my eyes from growing wide. “Are you kidding me?” Yeah, he probably isn’t as homework-oriented as I am, but how does someone not know who Virginia Woolf is? Do they teach at his school? “She was a writer.”

“I’m kidding, rich girl. I’m not that dumb. Your mom a writer or something? She must at least be super fucking into books if she named you after her.”

My arms tighten around my knees, frustration making my muscles tight. “Yes.” Most people know who Charity Nichols is. She’s famous. She’s talented. She’s inspiring. No one knows she’s been more than one person.

“I bet you are, too, huh? Shit like that normally runs in families.”

It’s as though his words turn my insides into cement. My whole body goes rigid. “No. I hate writing. I don’t do it unless I have to.” I won’t become cursed. I won’t lose myself so deeply in fiction that I can’t handle the real world.

And then, because I want to get the conversation off me, I ask, “What about you? What did you inherit from your parents?”

This time, it’s him who goes stiff. “My mom bailed when I was young. I don’t know much about her.”

My heart does this softening thing.

He says, “Don’t feel bad for me. Fuck her. If she didn’t want me, then I don’t want her. My dad is cool, though.”

“Okay, then what did you inherit from him? My dad and I both like rules. He likes numbers, and I do as well.”

Pierced-lip boy shakes his head, chuckling softly. I feel my cheeks start to redden. “What? There’s nothing wrong with liking numbers and rules.”

“Hey.” He holds his hands up as though he’s trying to show he doesn’t mean to attack me. “I’m not saying there is. I’m just thinking you probably don’t want to know what I learned from my pops. We’ll leave it at that.”

Again, I notice his hands shake from the cold. I think he sees me watching and he jerks his arms down. Rolling his eyes, he grins as though he thinks I’m being ridiculous.

“Your eyes are two different colors.” I don’t know why I just brought that up to him. Duh. Like he doesn’t know what colors his eyes are. Not once in my life have I talked to a boy about his eyes.

“Hot, isn’t it?” His smile grows, and I feel the urge to hit him with my bat.

“Yeah, but it quickly gets canceled out by your mouth.” My mouth drops open when I realize what I said. Yes, he is cute. I’ve never liked a boy with facial piercings, and honestly never thought I would, but they suit him. He has a nice smile, when he’s not being a jerk. The tousled hair thing usually isn’t for me, but on him it is. “Not that…you aren’t…I didn’t mean.”

For what feels like the millionth time he shakes his head, as though I’m being ridiculous. “It’s okay to admit when you think someone is good-looking. I don’t know why people are so weird about sex. Especially girls. It’s annoying that people freak out when a girl admits she’s into sex. There’s nothing wrong with wanting it, or admitting to it.”

Wait. “What? I never said I was into sex. Not that I’m
not
into sex… I mean…ugh! Stop laughing at me!” I bury my face in my hands. Why the heck does he get me so tongue-tied?

When he finally stops laughing, I see his teeth chatter. He’s cold. And he should be. “Shut up,” I say again, and then I unwrap the blanket from around my right side, still keeping it around my left shoulder, and stretch it out to him. He pauses a second, watching me—no,
dissecting
me—like he’s trying to see everything inside me to figure out how I work. Then he takes it, scoots closer to me and wraps the blanket around his shoulders as well.

We’re both quiet for a minute before he says, “Don’t worry about it. I think you’re beautiful, too.”

Wow. Not hot.
Beautiful
. A shiver runs through me, even though I suddenly feel warm. He called me hot before, but hot and beautiful are two different things. When he moves even closer to me, I let him.

He isn’t part of my plan, and I’m not good at change. I’ve always needed to be the one who decides what will happen to me, instead of letting things happen on their own. This guy came out of nowhere, and though my instinct is to walk away, I don’t. I don’t even know if I’ll see him again after tonight. There’s a quiet whisper, deep in the darkest parts of me. I don’t know if it was there before and I ignored it, but that voice wants to enjoy this night. I can go back to my plan tomorrow.