Scratch Page 5

  He pulled back for a moment with a small gasp of air, eyes nearly black as he peered down at me. Then he gave me a crooked smile and kissed me again. Took my mouth in a sensual move that fluttered my lower belly.

  I cupped his shoulders with both hands. His muscles bunched and flexed beneath my fingers. Heat poured off him, thickened the air around us.

  His fingers stroked my scalp as he tasted me. The thumb on his right hand brushed against my thigh then moved up my leg, to the crease between my thigh and torso. The sensation of him so close to my stomach gave me a brief pause.

  When his hand moved aside the bottom of my shirt and the very tip of his fingers brushed my bare stomach, I jerked away, pulling back to the other side of the car. It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. I tugged my shirt down as low as it could go, heart jackhammering against my rib cage.

  God, please tell me he didn’t feel it, I prayed. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, sitting straight up and raking a hand through his wild hair.

  I wrapped my arms around my torso and gave a short nod. “Yeah. Sorry. I just . . .” What the hell could I say? Frustration bubbled beneath my skin—at my fears, at my flaws, at how perfect he was and how messed up I was. I blinked rapidly. I was not going to cry. “Sorry,” I muttered again.

  How quickly I’d slipped into the moment. And then had been jarred right out of it.

  The silent tension between us was heavy, awkward. Daniel faced forward in his seat for several long moments, his long fingers pressed against his jean-clad thighs.

  “I didn’t mean to push you,” he finally said. Regret filled his tone. “I . . . I just got caught up in the moment. I’m sorry I made things uncomfortable.”

  But it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I’d come on to him then pulled away out of nowhere, for what he thought was no good reason. He had to be confused, if not a little irritated. And I couldn’t blame him.

  I shook my head and checked once more that my shirt was firmly down in place. “No, it’s my fault. But I’m a little tired. Can you . . . can we—”

  He started the car right up and put the speaker back on its stand. “Sure. No problem.”

  The ride back to my apartment was only punctuated with instructions telling him where in Berea I lived. I kept to my side and he kept to his. Though his body seemed deceptively relaxed, I could see a thread of tension in the lines around his mouth, between his brows. My stomach was a knotted tangle of guilt.

  What was supposed to be a simple hangout had turned complicated and messy. And no doubt once he dropped me off he’d run for the hills. And who could blame him?

  I pushed back those pessimistic thoughts, not wanting to hop on the shame spiral. It wasn’t like Daniel and I were going to be serious, anyway. I didn’t have time for a guy, couldn’t open up enough to trust anyone like that. It was better this way.

  But I couldn’t help the small sting of regret in my heart when he pulled into our apartment complex’s parking lot.

  He shut the car off and turned to me. “We’re here,” he said, then rolled his eyes and chuckled under his breath. “As you probably have figured out by now.”

  I gave him the biggest smile I could muster. “Thanks for taking me away from the party. I would have just been miserable there.” That much was true—despite how awkwardly the evening had ended, it had still been better than the one I’d been facing. And that kiss . . . that was going to haunt me for a long time. “And thanks for the ride home too.”

  “No problem.” He moved to open his door.

  “Oh, that’s okay. I can see myself in,” I rushed to say. Even having him walk me to the door would feel far too intimate. I needed to run into my room and decompress for a little while. Shake off this deep sadness that had taken its familiar place in the bottom of my chest.

  He thinned his lips but merely nodded. His eyes flickered with the briefest flash of an emotion I couldn’t quite name.

  “Good night,” I said on a small whisper.

  “Good night.”

  I closed the door and made my way into the building, into the empty apartment—Megan was probably still out having fun, so I sent her a text to let her know I was home—and lay down on top of my bed. After a few minutes and several rounds of slow breathing, my heart rate finally dropped to normal speed.

  Despite what Daniel probably thought of me now, I wasn’t a scared virgin who didn’t want to go past first base. About a year and a half ago, I’d had my first sexual encounter with a guy named Jacob. He was a nice person who’d been in English 102 with me. During that semester, we would study together, work on our research papers, cram for exams.

  I lifted my shirt off my lower belly and rested my palms against my scar, finger swirling around the puckered flesh. Yeah, Jacob and I had had sex, but I’d kept my shirt on the whole time. It was in the dark, on my bed.

  It hadn’t taken long.

  And I hadn’t seen him one-on-one since. He would see me around campus and offer a halfhearted hi, but that was it. Obviously Jacob had been just as disappointed about the whole thing as I’d been.

  Not an experience I was keen on repeating. Especially with Daniel, a guy who I found strangely interesting, compelling. Someone I sensed would easily challenge me out of my carefully constructed plans and life.

  But I wasn’t ready for any of that.

  With a sigh, I dropped my shirt back over my belly and continued to stare at the ceiling until well past two in the morning, when I finally heard Megan’s giggling drunk-whisper as she clunked her way into our apartment. But even then I was unable to get Daniel’s warm hands and tantalizing lips out of my mind.

  Chapter 6

  “I missed you so much,” Grandma said as she squeezed me close. “You have to tell me everything that’s happened since I saw you.”

  I breathed in her vanilla-cinnamon scent and smiled, hugging her fragile body gingerly in return. The soft puffs of her curly, white hair tickled the underside of my nose. “I was just here last Friday,” I said with a chuckle. But it was nice to be missed, loved. I’d moved out of their house freshman year to live on campus, per their insistence, but I knew I always had a home here. Hell, Grandma still kept my bedroom ready any time I wanted to sleep over.

  “I know. But a lot can change in a week.” She pulled back and peered up at me. Her dark brown eyes were crinkled in the corners, paper-thin wrinkles highlighted in the soft glow of the living room’s lamps. “Come in, come in. Granddad’s been chomping at the bit for the last hour, waiting for you to arrive. He has something new to show you.” I gave a good-natured eye roll, and Grandma swatted me on the arm. “That’s enough of that. You know how he is.”

  Granddad, an avid World War II collector, had discovered online purchasing last summer when he saw me buying a few textbooks off Amazon. And that was it for him. Now he had packages coming in all the time, bearing WWII items—old helmets, army gear, propaganda brochures . . . anything he could get his hands on. His den looked like a museum. Grandma finally had given up trying to dust in there, saying if he wanted to keep cluttering her house, he’d clean that part himself.

  I followed her inside to the kitchen. Granddad was mashing potatoes. His brow furrowed when he looked at me.

  “You’re too skinny,” he declared. “Don’t you eat at school?”

  This time I rolled my eyes for real. “Seriously, all I do is eat, I promise.” I knew he was worried about me, though it had been a long time since I’d had some food issues. My intestines had long since healed, and I was able to eat normally. Still, that didn’t stop him from pushing food on me every week.

  He handed me the potato masher. “Good. Then you can help Grandma whip up these mashed potatoes while I go show you my newest acquisition.” He thundered out of the kitchen.

  “You’d better not bring any of that dust into my kitchen,” Grandma said, shooting him a warning glare. Granddad was a large man—tall and stout,
he was built like a linebacker. But even he got a little intimidated when Grandma got that tone in her voice.

  I finished mashing the potatoes and whipped in butter and milk, just as Grandma had taught me. The kitchen smelled warm and homey. Fresh bread was baking in the oven. There was a casserole on the stove top, wrapped in foil. Probably chicken and broccoli, which she knew was my favorite.

  “So how was school this week?” Grandma asked as she grabbed silverware and set the kitchen table.

  “Oh, fine. My business classes are challenging, in a good way. But philosophy is killer.” I paused just a moment, thinking of Daniel—of our kiss—then resumed mixing up the potatoes.

  “And what else?” Grandma said, suddenly right behind me.

  I jumped a little, my face flushing in guilt, and kept my eyes fixed on the mashed potatoes bowl. I’d already decided I wasn’t going to talk about Daniel with them. It was a nonissue anyway, and I didn’t want them to think I was squandering my studying time by going to parties and such. “Nothing much else going on. You know, just classes and stuff. Regular things.”

  Wow, that was awkward. Way to go, Casey, I chastised myself. No way was Grandma going to misread that.

  And she didn’t. “What happened?” she asked, her tone deceptively soft.

  I grabbed the bowl and took it to the table, eyeing the room for Granddad. Wasn’t he supposed to come back with an artifact by now? “Not much. I’m so hungry—that casserole smells divine.”

  I heard Grandma take a breath to talk, but Granddad came barreling back into the kitchen, bearing a military-green helmet with a net on the top. “Look at this beauty,” he proclaimed, moving to set it on the table.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Grandma said, her voice threaded with steel. She put the napkins down on the doily place mats, then shot me a brief glance that let me know she wasn’t done talking to me yet.

  Granddad quickly tugged the helmet back and held it at eye level with me. “This baby comes with a mostly intact camo netting. But . . . we’ll talk more about it later, after dinner.” He darted to the living room and put it on the couch.

  I scooped helpings of the casserole on the plates as Grandma got the bread out, and we made quick work of setting the table and sitting down.

  The food was piping hot, but Grandma had her air conditioning cranked to negative fifty degrees, so I was comfortable in my thin, long-sleeved shirt and jeans. I took a bite and sighed in pleasure. “You made this for me, didn’t you,” I said with a smile.

  She grinned in return. “You always did have a soft spot for this casserole.”

  “So, how is your semester going so far?” Granddad asked after taking a sip of milk.

  Ugh. My stomach twinged a bit. “Fine,” I said brightly. “Philosophy is hard, but everything else is great. I’m really enjoying my business classes this semester. Oh, you’d really like my English professor, I bet—he visits Greece every summer because his family still lives there.” Maybe talking a lot would help throw Grandma off the scent.

  “I can’t believe it’s your last year.” Granddad gave me a sad smile, then took a bite of mashed potatoes. “The time has flown by fast. You were so little when you came to live with us. And now you’re a beautiful young adult, strong and smart and ready to step into your own life.”

  I reached over and patted his meaty hand. It was gnarled with thick veins, and arthritis had curled his fingers into knobby trunks, but those hands had held me through all those dark nights of screaming and crying. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you two,” I said, appreciation closing my throat and choking off my words. How could I ever express the love and gratitude I had for them?

  They’d saved me from the nightmares. When my family had died, there hadn’t been any discussion—they’d insisted I come live with them. Had dragged me to the store to decorate my bedroom, buy new clothes since I didn’t want anything that was in the old house. They’d also bought me an iPod and loaded it with songs. Grandma loved music and had passed that love on to me.

  After the hell that had happened when I was thirteen, they’d given me something to live for.

  And that was exactly why I didn’t have time to mess around and lose my focus at school. I was so close to being done. I’d make them proud, show them I was worth the investment.

  “Are you really okay?” Grandma asked, her own eyes filling up with a couple of unshed tears. “I worry about you.”

  I swallowed and pushed my emotions back into place. “I’m fine, promise.”

  “Are you getting out and doing anything?”

  “Other than going to classes?” I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not stripping for college money, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  She swatted my arm, laughter making the tears leak out a bit, but her face brightened. “You knock that off. I just mean, are you making friends?”

  The same thing she’d asked when I’d moved here with them and started at a new middle school. New state. Completely new environment for a new life. It had taken me months to work my way up to even telling my teacher hello, much less other students. But eventually, people had stopped staring at me like the new-girl freak and started accepting my quiet nature.

  A long road, but one I’d climbed every step of the way.

  “I do have a couple of friends,” I told her. Daniel’s crooked, dimpled smile flashed in my mind, and that hot flush crept up my face again. I didn’t want to think about him right now. I wanted to focus on this delicious meal, on my grandparents and their company. But my skin tingled from the ghostly feel of his fingers on mine.

  His lips pressed to mine.

  “Huh.” Grandma’s mouth curled into a knowing smile. “I know that look. Who is he?”

  I wanted to say “who?” but I knew she’d just get pissed at me for playing dumb. “A guy in my philosophy class. But it’s not a big deal—we just hung out a little bit.”

  “Is he a senior too?” Granddad asked, his brow furrowed. He shot a concerned look at Grandma. I knew exactly what he was thinking—Is this boy gonna distract her? Is he worthy of her time and attention?

  In halting steps, I told them about philosophy class, how I’d met him deejaying, how he’d been at a college party (I judiciously left out the drunken frat festivities, including the wet T-shirt contest) and how we went to a drive-in to see Snow White. I also left out the kiss. That amazing, toe-curling, soul-stirring kiss that wouldn’t let me go.

  They remained quiet the whole time, giving me space to get it all out. After I finished, I poked at my casserole, growing colder by the second, and took a bite.

  “He sounds interesting,” Grandma finally said. “When are you two seeing each other again?”

  I thinned my lips. “I doubt that’s going to happen. Um, I . . . I think I scared him away by freaking out. Just . . . I wasn’t ready . . .”

  Her eyes grew warm as she peered at me. She put her fork down and took my hand in both of hers. “Honey. I’m so glad you’re working so hard at school. You make us proud—not just because you’re acing your classes but because you have a wonderful work ethic. But you need to make time for a social life too.”

  “I do,” I said, suddenly defensive. I’d hung out at the lake with Megan once or twice back at the beginning of summer, not to mention the party last night. Plus I deejayed at the club every weekend.

  “Work doesn’t count, Casey,” she said with a raised eyebrow. She knew me far too well. “You’re not mingling with others when you’re standing on the outside looking in. I worry about you. You stay holed up in your apartment all the time and don’t give people a fair chance.”

  “I’m fine, I promise.” I gave Granddad a desperate glance, hoping he’d intervene and get her off my back a bit.

  He shrugged his shoulders in a you’re on your own casual way. Traitor. Then again, he was the one who still had to live with Grandma.

  “Every time someone gets close to you, you push him or her away,” Grandma continued. “I
want you to give this boy a fair chance. He sounds nice. And I want you to bring him by here so we can meet him too.”

  I snorted a laugh. That was so not going to happen. “He isn’t going to want to see me again anyway,” I said in a dismissive tone. “So it really doesn’t matter.” I shoved down the pain in my heart at the thought.

  “I have a feeling you’ll be surprised about that one,” she said shrewdly. “Boys don’t give up on things that easily. Not the good ones anyway.” She glanced at Granddad. “This man right here chased me for months before I’d even talk to him.”

  “It’s true,” he said gruffly. “Wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

  They hadn’t talked much about how they’d met, so I was intrigued. “What made you keep pursuing her then, knowing she was hard to get?”

  He crooked a grin and stared at Grandma, who smiled back. “There was something in her eyes that wouldn’t let go of me. I saw her laughing with her sister one day at school, and the sun shone on her face. Her smile was wide, teeth flashing, laugh rolling and unashamed. And I knew then that she was the one for me. It was worth it to take the time and convince her of the same.”

  Who knew Granddad was such a romantic? My heart squeezed in my chest. I couldn’t imagine being with another person for over forty years. Through thick and thin. Good times and hard times—and there had been some incredibly terrible times, including what had happened with my family.

  Despite my intense fears, despite everything that locked me into this paralyzing mind set that I’d never be fully healed from my past, I still held a smidgen of hope that I’d find that kind of love too. That someday I could shed this pain and be whole and happy.

  Then I’d see my dad’s face, his eerie eyes blazing, and I’d remember what happened when you let yourself love someone fully.

  I cleared my throat and pushed my half-eaten plate away, struggling to ease the knot of tension between my shoulders. “I should get going. I have a bit of studying to do before I head to work tonight.” My stomach hurt too badly to eat another bite anyway. But I didn’t want them to worry more about me than they already did.