Beautiful Broken Mess (2 page)

Even though he’s crouching down in front of me, I can tell this guy has long, muscular legs. I’m five foot ten, so it’s hard to come across people who are much taller than I am. I like the idea of being able to look up into his eyes. He’s also fit. If the polo shirt he’s wearing with the logo of the local hotshot football team didn’t give it away, his large shoulders and wide chest would have.

Looking beyond his intense blue eyes, I notice the warm, dark brown color of his hair, and I’m surprised to see sporadic natural highlights spread throughout. With his free hand, he reaches up and threads his fingers through the strands and lets them fall haphazardly back down. The way the pieces fall perfectly in place makes it seem as if even his hair knows how to submit to his strong will. I begin to wonder how my body would feel under those fingers. Would it submit as easily as his hair?

He clears his throat, which pulls my attention back from the unexpectedly sensual thoughts I’m having. “You realize these are just groceries, right?” He slyly grins at me in question. I nod my head, but still can’t reply. “I’ll replace them for you. It’s the least I can do for knocking you over.”

As he helps me up to a standing position, I think about rejecting his offer. It’s not like he knew I was going to be walking in front of the door at that exact moment. Just because a measly bag of groceries brings me to my knees in a pathetic crying pile, that doesn’t mean he should have to buy anything for me. On the other hand, I’m not in any position to decline help. It’s either I save my pride and deal with my dad’s wrath or let this stranger, whom I’ll never see again, assist me. I choose the stranger.

“Thank you.” I meekly smile, while wiping the last of the moisture from my eyes.

When we finally extend to our full heights, I am excited to see that he’s at least a good four or five inches taller than me. Seeing the full package standing in front of me doesn’t hurt either… he’s gorgeous. I watch as he reaches down to grab the box he almost mauled me with and sets it into the back of a giant, four-door, black pickup truck. I don’t know much about cars since I ride the bus, but this truck has to be expensive. There aren’t any scratches on the paint and not a speck of rust on the rims.

Unlike me, he actually belongs on this side of town. I just work here. Our city is divided into two vastly different economic statuses, and I’ve never understood why they never just separated into two different cities. This side of town has the golden-child high school that receives all the funding for their state championship-winning football team and award-winning academic decathlon team. I think my school had ten girls get pregnant last year instead of twelve, which was the running total from the previous year. I call that progress.

The beautiful stranger comes over and scoops up my pitiful, ruined bag of groceries and begins to rifle through it before tossing it into a nearby trashcan.

“My brother is actually at the store right now, picking up groceries for my mom. Mind if I just text him a list of everything you had? That way you don’t have to go shopping again, and we can just go grab some coffee instead.” He nods his head toward the chic little café across the street.

“Uh… sure. I can tell you what I needed,” I reply.

“No worries, I remember everything you had.” He shrugs his shoulders while quickly typing out a list on his expensive-looking, touchscreen phone.

I nervously bounce on my feet, feeling uncomfortable with this favor. “Can you ask him to put my groceries in a paper bag, please?”

“Of course, they always put them in bags,” he says, only half paying attention to me.

“No, it needs to be a paper bag, not plastic,” I state adamantly, causing him to look up from his phone.

“Okay… no plastic, understood.” He eyes me curiously, but there is no way I’ll be explaining that one. As he slides his phone into his back pocket, he looks down into my eyes. “I’m Jace, by the way. Sorry about my earlier introduction,” he says apologetically.

When he wraps his arm around my shoulders, I smile inwardly at his forwardness. “I’m Audrey… Audrey Mills,” I reply. As we walk toward the café, I tease, “Are we just getting coffee so you can get out of shopping?”

He dramatically brings his free hand up to his chest and gasps, “Whatever do you mean? Me? A guy? Get out of shopping? Never!” He’s the one teasing me now.

A laugh bubbles up out of my throat. “Alright, alright, I get it. Boys don’t like shopping.”

When we approach the door, he reaches out and opens it for me. I’ve never been around someone who acts like a gentleman before. I didn’t know guys like this really existed. When I smile up at him on my way through the door, I silently thank him.

“If you want to go shopping, babe, I’ll take you right now. I figured I just met this beautiful girl and I’d rather get to know her instead of shopping at a lame grocery store,” he responds with a sly grin on his face.

I point my finger at his chest. “You’re a charmer, you know that? I should watch myself around you.” He winks at me and continues to pull us along toward the counter. This is another thing on my long list of ‘Never Have I Evers.’ I’ve never been in a café. There doesn’t seem to be a point in going inside when you can’t afford anything. I understand that a café sells coffee, but the menu board seems to have a thousand different drinks that I have never even heard of. I’m seeing words like ‘Frappuccino,’ ‘Macchiato,’ and ‘Americano,’ all of which are lost on me. I was already starting to doubt whether or not I fit in here, but this just confirms it. Quickly, I scan the board so I can just order something, anything.

As I stand, lost and confused, I feel his warmth as he comes up behind me. “Let me pick your drink. I see an open leather chair over there you should go and snag,” he says, as he points over to the crowded seating area.

“Am I that easy to read?”

“I’ve got you covered. Now go grab that seat,” he says with a wink, avoiding my question. It’s embarrassing that he can tell how out of place I am here, but I delight in the idea of him taking control of the situation. I can let him do that.

I sidestep through the crowded café. A study group takes up the only section of tables and chairs. The rest of the room is filled with leather chairs for lounging. I assume that all of these people attend the local community college because they have advanced textbooks and laptops out. Not to mention, the high schools aren’t back in session yet.

When I get to the leather seat Jace had pointed out for me, I realize it’s the only seat available. I stare down at it, wondering if I should sit in it or let him have it. I mean, he’s already paying for my mystery drink
and
groceries.

“You realize that’s just a chair, right?” he whispers into my ear from behind, mimicking his earlier comment about my groceries.

“You should have it,” I gesture toward it. “I’m alright standing.”

“Sit,” he softly commands and I obey, slightly bemused by this hold he has on me.

He pulls the wooden coffee table across the tile floor to the front of my chair and sits on it, facing me. I’m surprised the small table can handle his large frame, but it seems to be holding up well.

I’m keenly aware of how close he’s sitting, and even though this place is packed with chatting people, I feel like it’s only him and me. His knees brush the outside of mine and he squeezes my legs together between his. When I look up, I see he’s watching me as I observe our legs. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not new to this flirting game, but with him it’s actually exciting.

We sit there staring at one another and shockingly, it isn’t uncomfortable or awkward. It’s as if we’re having a silent conversation, getting to know one another in this intimate, inaudible way. His eyes seem as if they’re peering into mine, trying to discover all of my secrets that are hidden in the darkest of depths. I hope he never has to know those secrets, although I would love to be comfortable enough with someone to finally divulge all of my thoughts. It sounds quite freeing, to be honest.

Jace smiles perceptively, and when the waitress brings our drinks out, his eyes finally leave my face. He reaches up to her tray and brings a mug and a water bottle down in between us. When he hands me the mug, I stare at the caramel-colored drink that has a frothy-like white top. It still feels a bit too warm to drink, so I place it on the table next to Jace to allow it to cool down. I look up when I can practically feel him laughing at me.

“It’s a chai tea latte.”

“I know,” I lie to him.

“No you don’t.” He laughs again. “You’re a coffee house virgin, aren’t you?” When I don’t respond, he gives me a sweet smile. Not one that is meant to ridicule, but just one that shows he’s trying to figure me out. “That’s cool, I’m glad I could be your first.”

My eyes bug out at his innuendo and I finally begin to laugh at myself. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I? I mean, who has never been to a coffee house?”

“Not at all, I’m finding you refreshing.”

His comment makes me blush, so I decide to change the subject. “How old are you?” I’m assuming he’s in high school because of the shirt he’s wearing, but it could just be from a past year. I watch as he takes a long pull from his water bottle and for some reason, the up and down movement of his throat as he swallows continuously mesmerizes me. Would it be weird to put my lips on his neck right now?

“Eighteen,” he replies. “You?”

I nod my head. “Just turned eighteen last week.”

“No shit? So did I. What day?”

“The fourteenth.”

He points to himself and says, “The thirteenth, beat you by a day!” His smile is infectious. “So what’s a gorgeous,
eighteen
year-old girl like you doing buying whiskey?” he asks, smirking.

I make a disgusted face. “I don’t drink, it’s for my dad.” I resolve to leave it at that. Telling him that I buy my dad liquor in the hopes that he won’t beat the crap out of me is not something I plan on sharing.

“You don’t drink? Seems like every high school kid around here does. I like that. I don’t touch the stuff either,” he says with a smile.

I’m assuming that we don’t indulge for vastly different reasons. I don’t drink because I’ve seen what it can do to a person and I’ve smelled the horror on my dad’s breath one too many times.

Fortunately, he doesn’t dig any deeper, instead asking, “So, did you just pay Oliver off like everyone else?”

“Pay him off? No, he doesn’t ask me to pay him,” I reply, confused.

If I had to pay the guy any more than what I already spend there, I wouldn’t be able to afford anything besides the whiskey. Without thinking, I reach into my purse, grab my cherry-vanilla chapstick, and spin the bottom. As I slide the balm against my lips, Jace’s eyes follow the trail.

“That jackass makes everybody pay him…” I watch him pause as I rub my lips together and he begins to study me. “Well… I guess you
would
be an exception.” His legs squeeze mine a little tighter.

Together we sit and talk for what seems like hours. We talk about future college plans and how boring high school is. We even have a debate over whether reading an actual book is better than reading from a device. I was rooting for the actual paper and spine book, but he trumped me by pulling out his smart phone and showing me how he had over two hundred books right in his back pocket.

Who would have thought a guy in high school would actually enjoy talking about books? I almost reach to grab his face in that moment, so I grab my drink instead and take the first sip.

Oh, that’s nice
. I’ve never tasted anything like this before. It’s definitely not that black sludge my dad brews every morning. Although it’s long since cooled to a tepid temperature, the flavor is sweet and slightly spicy at the same time. Now I wish Jace hadn’t introduced this to me, because I’ll be lusting after this drink every time I pass this place in the future.

“This is fantastic!” I think I’m a little too excited over a drink, so I try to tone down the enthusiasm. “Great choice,” I say and smile up at him.

He watches me intently again. “Must be a chick thing. My mom always gets me to pick that up for her when I’m down here. I’m sure she’ll be proud to know it helped me pick up a girl.”

“Oh, is that what this is… a pick-up?” I ask, while trying to tamper down my obnoxious smile.

“Damn straight.” He leans down so our faces are only inches apart, and I can feel his breath lightly teasing my lips. In a low but firm whisper, he says, “I like you, Audrey. I plan to take you out and kiss you goodnight over and over until you agree to let me do it all again the next night.”

Floor. Puddle. Me.
Holy hell
.

I stay there, not daring to move an inch, in hopes that he’ll lean in and put me out of my misery, because his lips are entirely too tempting to be that close. I silently implore him to show me just one of those kisses he’s talking about. As if on cue, a loud buzzing begins to vibrate between us and I jump back, startled.

“Easy, gorgeous…” he says, his voice sounding a bit breathless. Maybe I’m not the only one affected here. “It’s just my phone.” He pulls it out and I watch as his fingers slide and tap continuously on the screen. “My brother put your groceries in the truck. He had to go into the bookstore.”