So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (45 page)

TWO

Danny’s words trip through my brain like clumsy drunks. They
bump into one another, making no sense. His hard-on pushes into my belly and
his eyes pull me in.

Seconds tick by, and finally his words line up to make a
sentence.

Holy crap.

Not good—not good at all.

Kissing him wasn’t very smart either.

I try to form words, but they cling to my lips, refusing to
leave my mouth. I swallow and flatten my palms on his pecs. I manage to put the
slightest pressure into my push.

Danny backs off. He hooks his thumbs into his belt loops,
studying me with a critical eye as he shakes his head. He spins on his heel and
storms out, leaving the door wide open and my jaw hanging loose.

After I put in a couple of hours volunteering at the women’s
shelter, I spent half the afternoon cleaning out my closet, scrubbing every
square inch of my bathroom, and polishing the appliances in my small
kitchenette. I even used the telescoping duster thing and got the cobwebs in
the corners and the outsides of the vents.

It didn’t matter though. No amount of bleach could wash
Danny’s words out of my mind.

God, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any girl
has
played through my brain a thousand times, maybe more.

How can that be possible? He all but told me he doesn’t like
the way I look in a swimsuit. He takes every opportunity to give me crap. He’s
not even nice to me. Aren’t guys supposed to be nice if they want a girl? Well,
except grade-school boys; I’d expect that from a fifth-grader.

* * *

Paul’s picking me up in five minutes. I finish applying a
bit of mascara. That and eyebrow pencil are the extent of my make-up. If I
don’t use them my eyes look bald. My platinum hair? Not from a salon.

Even though I’ve cleaned in here, I toss all my shoes out of
my closet before I manage to find the sandals that match this outfit. First
date. Shouldn’t be late for a first date. I dab on a bit of lip gloss.

Paul pulls up as I turn the key in the deadbolt.

I paste on a smile and straighten the strap on my second
favorite sundress. I threw the other one in the laundry bin after Danny left.
That was right before I took a shower because I had to wash his scent off,
afraid all I’d be able to think about all day was him.

Paul hops out and comes around to open the passenger door.
Nice. Danny wouldn’t think of doing that. I bet Danny’s dates are lucky if he
doesn’t make them ride on the back of his motorcycle. He’s going to get himself
killed on that thing.

“Did you forget something?” Paul’s voice breaks in.

“What?”

“Well, you’re just standing there.”

“Oh. No, I’m sorry. I was thinking.” Good gracious. Have to
get my mind off freaking Danny.

Paul shuts my door and comes around the car. As he buckles
up, he says, “Everything all right? You look like you could strangle someone.
Bad day?”

I cringe. “My best friend left for an African mission trip
today. Emotional day. But I’m fine.”

He puts the car into drive. “Thought I’d take you to The
Garage. It’s this new place down in The West End.”

“Sounds good.”

* * *

The Garage. Trendy bar. Forty-five minute wait to get in.

My stomach roars. Thank goodness the music’s so loud no one
can hear it. I hope Paul doesn’t mind a girl who eats.

I let my gaze travel around the place. Car parts and auto
racing memorabilia hang on the walls. We settle at a table in the small area to
the side of the dance floor.

Paul leans close and raises his voice. “So, you’re a
sophomore this year?”

“Junior. You?”

“Senior. Set to graduate in December.” He nods, and light
bounces off his black hair. He points to the bar. “Want something?”

“Just a soda. Thanks.”

Looks like the party’s in full swing. Lots of people
dancing, drinking, having a great time.

Paul sets my soda in front of me. His straight teeth shine
in the lights as he smiles. He tosses me a straw. I strip the wrapper off and
poke it into the icy drink.

I half empty the glass in a couple of long draws. “Thanks. I
was thirsty.”

“I hope you don’t mind. I’m going to have something with
some kick.”

An arm comes around me, pushing my soda across the table to
Paul. “Then you should be drinking this one.”

My heart ratchets up.

Seriously? This can’t be happening.

I twist in my seat. “What are
you
doing here?”

Danny smiles, his eyes sparking. “So, who’s the douche?”

Paul’s brow wrinkles, and he glares. “Dude, what’s your
issue?”

“If you want something with a
kick
, take hers.
Whatever you spiked it with ought to give you a jolt.”

My chest tightens. I turn to Paul. “What did you do?”

He looks away and shakes his head. Then he jumps up, sending
his chair crashing to the floor. “Fuck you. I don’t need this shit.”

He’s not getting off that easily. I grab the drink and rush
behind him. “Hey, Paul!”

He turns and I toss the contents into his face. It splashes
off and drips down his golf shirt. Paul swipes a hand over his eyes, his mouth
a hard, thin line. His fists clench and he steps toward me.

Crap.

I brace for impact.

Danny grabs me and shoves me aside. He pulls back his fist.

Paul lunges into the punch. Maybe he doesn’t even realize
I’m not there now. One pop and he’s on his butt, rubbing his jaw.

Danny stands over him. “Didn’t your momma teach you it isn’t
nice to drug the ladies?”

Paul crab crawls backward a few feet and flips over, pushing
himself up. He shakes it off, wipes his face with the back of his arm, and
threads his way through the crowd. He doesn’t even look back.

The people in the immediate vicinity stare. Heat creeps from
my chest to the top of my head. I slink to the table and grab my purse off the
chair. It takes a few minutes to get across the bar to the ladies’ room, but I
manage to do so without looking up.

I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.

I push through the door, past the girls at the sink, to lock
myself in a stall, leaning against the cool metal. The door swishes open and
the volume rises for a moment as music floods in. Then it’s quiet.

Good. Now I can be alone in my mortification.

I inhale, hold it, count to ten, and let it out by
increments.

“So, you really know how to pick them, eh,
Moan
-uh?”

My shoulders droop in defeat and I let the rest of my breath
out in a huff.

Great. Exactly what I need.

“You followed me into the bathroom?”

He rattles my stall door. “How else are you going to say
thank you?”

I pull the latch and slip past him. “You could’ve waited
until I finished. I just needed a minute.”

His cocky grin makes me hate his face.

“Oh. I didn’t realize I’m supposed to save you
and
wait for you. Pardon me.”

I wash my hands and splash water over my cheeks, trying to
cool the blush still burning me up.

When I raise my head I focus on the mirror. Danny stands
behind me. His gaze holds mine for the longest moment in history.

I swallow my embarrassment. “Thank you. Thank you for
keeping me from getting hurt. And for decking that jerk.” I turn to him,
throwing my hands up in question. “Happy now?”

“You’re welcome.”

And he walks out. Just like that.

There is something seriously wrong with him. There has to
be.

* * *

The heat rises off the pavement outside The Garage. The cab
is taking forever to get here. I check my phone again, shifting my weight from
foot to foot.

“Mo! Hold up. I’ll give you a ride,” Danny calls.

I don’t have the energy to argue with him right now.

God, I’m such an idiot. I really could’ve ended up—well, who
knows what Paul had planned? If it hadn’t been for Danny—it was
Danny
of
all people who saved me from—whatever would’ve happened.

A yellow cab pulls up. I step off the curb. Déjà vu overruns
me as an arm comes around my waist. His deep voice whispers, “What are you
doing?”

I wriggle out of his hold. “What are
you
doing?”

A skinny brunette—not the hallway-screw either, a new
one—runs her hand down Danny’s forearm. “Come inside, Dan. We’re missing the
fun.”

He rolls his eyes. “So, go back in.”

“But, Dan—”

Danny steps to the cab and tosses a twenty into the window.
“She’s got a ride. Thanks anyway.”

I try to grab the cab’s rear door handle, but my knuckles
drag along the smooth surface of the car’s door as I completely miss. I focus
on my fingers as though they’re attached to someone else’s hand. When I move
them in front of my face, they echo.

Can fingers echo?

The cab speeds away. “What the heck?”

“I said I’ll take you home. Come on.”

A ball of frustration gathers in my chest. “Who do you think
you are? You can’t tell me what to do.”

The chick puts her hands on her hips. “See, Dan? She must
have other plans. Come on,
I’ll
show you a good time.”

“Chrystal—Chrissie—” Danny snaps his fingers twice, glaring
at her. “Christy—whatever your damned name is, that’s enough. I told you I have
shit to take care of. We’ll catch up some other time. Or not.”

My cab’s taillights disappear down the street as I pull out
my phone to call another.

Chrystal-Chrissie-Christy pouts, but finally crosses her
arms and stalks back into the bar.

Danny snatches my phone out of my hand and hangs up on the
cab company lady who just answered. “You don’t need that. You have a ride.”

“I’m not getting on that death trap you call a bike.”

“No, you aren’t. I have my car.” He turns me toward the
parking lot.

Try as I might to stand stiff, I can’t. But that doesn’t
mean I have to go easily. “I don’t want to be alone with you.”

“Well, it’s got to be better than being on your own with
Fuck-face back there.” He drops his arm over my shoulder. “Look, Mo, I saved
your ass twice today. If I don’t get you home soon, you might end up in the
hospital.”

Exhaustion spreads through me like a prelude to death. My
feet are leaded and my hands are made of clay. The concrete sucks me down like
quick sand. How did it do that?

Danny grabs me. “Oh shit, that was fast.”

He sweeps me into his arms and hikes me to his chest. He’s
so strong and his heart beats so powerfully against me.

“Why haven’t I ever listened to your heart before? It’s
so—so—”

The world wobbles under my feet. Or maybe they’re Danny’s
feet. I don’t know which.