Revenge 2 Read online

  What I didn’t imagine was Amanda stinking up my room and acting like some weird big sister.

  Even more surprising, I don’t actually hate this. Amanda isn’t my favorite person, but she’s not the worst.

  Part of me wants to go on a booze run with her and drink “coconut shit.” What does that even mean? Is she talking about Malibu Rum? I did drink that a few times when I was a teenager, usually on school trips.

  Amanda holds out the teddy bear and talks to it. “What’s your name? Mr. Teddy, you say? Does Jess do bad things to you? Does she make you touch her no-no areas?”

  I rip the bear out of her hands.

  “For fuck’s sake, Amanda.”

  She laughs hysterically.

  “Fine. Be that way. Let’s play a game. You tell me the story about the teddy bear, and I’ll tell you a secret about Caleb.”

  I set the teddy bear on the desk.

  When she finds out the boring truth, she’ll be disappointed, but I tell her anyway.

  “My best friend gave me the bear as a going-away present. That’s the whole story. I’ve barely even had it for a week.”

  “Who’s your best friend?”

  “Just a person.”

  “Is this person a boy?”

  “Yeah.”

  She groans and flops back on my bed. She spreads her arms out wide. The sweet smell of her body spray is filling the whole room now.

  “Jess, you gotta move on. I’ll set you up with someone. You can’t hide away in your bedroom every night.”

  “I’m not hiding.”

  “Yes, you are. And the last couple days, you look like you’re a prisoner on death row. You’re depressing the shit out of me. Wake up and look at all the hot guys in this city. If you like musicians so much, go to some concerts.”

  “I don’t like musicians. I like music. Big difference.”

  She snorts and sits up on the bed.

  “What about that guy? Dylan Wolf? I saw two people I know posting links to that Blue Shoes song.” She holds up two fingers. “Two different people! He’s going to be fucking rich. You should get on that.”

  “He’s too old for me.”

  She rolls her eyes. “He’s not that old.”

  “Then he’s too… worldly. Too mature.”

  I pick up the teddy bear and hug it to my chest. I’ve talked to Nick a bunch of times about what happened at Dylan’s place. I still don’t understand how I feel. Amanda is not someone I want to bare my soul to, but I need a girl’s perspective.

  “Amanda, I haven’t told you yet, but I saw him again. The day after we ran into him busking.”

  “And?” Her blue eyes widen with interest. The way the setting sun’s light is coming in the room, her eyes are brilliant. I stare at the little wedge of her iris that’s a bit green. Maybe if I bare my soul to her, I can finally ask about her eye.

  “He took me to this cool apartment that he’s renting. I thought things were going well. We kissed a bit. And he touched me. Down there.”

  Amanda’s mouth opens. She looks like she’s going to make fun of me for saying “down there,” but she doesn’t.

  I keep going, telling the story. I feel weird, like I’m getting turned on again just remembering. “And then suddenly he was like, turn over and let’s do this. Let’s get it over with. And I was like, what? I mean… sure, I’m a virgin. I’m not an expert on sex, but I don’t think that’s how it goes.”

  Amanda frowns. “And then what?”

  “And then I left. What do you think I did? I fucking left.”

  Amanda rubs her lips with her fingers and kicks at the carpet with her toes. “Are you really a virgin?”

  “Yes.”

  “No wonder you’re so judgy. You’re an uptight little virgin.”

  I hug the teddy bear. Amanda’s not saying more, but I can see the thoughts swirling behind her eyes. She thinks there’s something wrong with me. It’s not fair. I might not approve of her lifestyle, but I’ve never been judgy. I don’t think.

  After a minute, she says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. But I have to ask. Why? You’re pretty. Are you saving yourself for marriage?”

  “No. I’ve just been busy doing other things. College was a lot of work.”

  She grins. “If you give it up to a rock star, that would be epic.”

  I give her a dirty look. “He’s just a street busker who might get a recording contract or might not. He’s not a rock star.” I turn and look out the window at the darkness. “Not yet.”

  “Lay down the rules,” she says. “The next time you see him, if he does anything rude, you slap him across the face. Listen, this is going to sound totally sexist, but guys aren’t like us. Our brains work all the time. Girls are always the same, and always thinking. But when guys see a girl they want, they go into animal mode.”

  I get a chill that gives me goosebumps. I swivel around on my chair and see that Amanda’s face is serious. She’s twirling her blonde hair and pulling it across her mouth nervously.

  “They’re not like us,” she repeats.

  “Are you saying it’s okay for them to…” I can’t say the word. “Be forceful?”

  She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are glassy, shining. Now they fill with tears.

  “Amanda?”

  She jerks her head, shaking it. She waves a hand between us like she’s clearing her thoughts.

  “I’m fine,” she says. “Just tired. And I could really use a drink.” She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through messages.

  “He did ask,” I say. “Before he did certain… things, he did ask if it was okay.”

  She doesn’t even glance up from her phone. “Yeah, he sounds normal enough,” she says. “People get weird about the virgin thing. Like it’s a big responsibility. It’s not. Trust me, you’re better off just getting your first time over with. I’d do you myself if I had a dick.”

  I laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

  She shrugs. “That’s what roommates are for.”

  “Speaking of roommates, when do I get to meet Riley?”

  “She sent me a message. Her trip got extended. She says to say hi. And that you should give your V-card to the rock star.”

  I toss the teddy bear at Amanda. “She didn’t say that.”

  She tosses the bear back, smiling. “If she was here, she totally would.” She makes faces as she sends a text message. “You can invite him over here tonight, if you want. Looks like I’m going out.”

  My voice catches in my throat. I don’t want her to go and leave me alone all night.

  She gets up from my bed and walks out, still using her phone.

  “Have fun!” I call out after her.

  She disappears, off to her room, and I go back to my laptop. I spend a few minutes stalking my old friends back home while I pick at the duct tape holding the monitor to the keyboard.

  My friends are making inside jokes about something that happened at a party. I don’t know what they’re talking about. I don’t even know who these people are.

  Amanda stops by my room on her way out for the night. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she says.

  I have to laugh at that.

  A few minutes later, I’m all alone.

  Now I’m nervous.

  Nick hinted that something would happen tonight, but he wouldn’t say what. I want to be comfortable while I’m waiting, so I put on my pajamas.

  They’re a flannel pair Nan gave me last Christmas. They’re pink with little cat faces. If Nan sees anything with an orange cat on it, she buys it for me. My favorite barn cat was an orange tabby. He died a couple years ago, but Nan still talks about him like she just saw him yesterday. I hate when she does that. She talks that way about my mother sometimes.

  With my pajamas on, I wander around the house. What am I waiting for? Nick could have at least given me a clue. I’ve got my phone in my hand so I don’t miss anything.

  Around mid
night, I climb into bed and start reading a book.

  I’m awakened by a noise.

  My mouth has a sour taste. I’ve been asleep about an hour. It’s past one o’clock.

  I listen for more noises. Is that Amanda trying to get the front door open?

  My bedroom is golden with the soft light of my bedside lamp.

  The tapping sound comes again.

  Something’s at my window.

  The glass rings out as something smacks it.

  In an instant, I know exactly what’s happening.

  Someone’s here.

  Outside my bedroom.

  Throwing stones at my window.

  Holding my breath, I cross the room to the window and look out at the inky darkness.

  Standing in the back yard is a guy with a guitar.

  Dylan.

  He waves, then picks up another handful of pebbles and tosses them at the window.

  Chapter 8

  I push open the window.

  “What are you doing?”

  He answers, “What does it look like?”

  Dylan Wolf is standing below my window, a story below me. The house is only one floor of living space, plus a basement that’s used for storage. It’s set on a hill, so the front door is only a few steps off the ground, but the back yard is way down from my window.

  I’m glad for the distance between us. Dylan looks like he might just climb right in if he could.

  “Who gave you my address?”

  He strums the guitar and sings, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel. Let down your golden hair.”

  “Did Nick send you here?”

  He stops playing. “Who’s Nick?”

  “Never mind. I’m going to pretend this isn’t creepy.”

  He strums again. “This isn’t creepy. It’s romantic.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if I came to your firehall like some crazy stalker.”

  “I was hoping you would. We were having fun and then you took off on me. I’ve been missing you.”

  He strums the guitar and starts playing a song. The lyrics are about missing a girl. I don’t think it’s an original, because it sounds too familiar. Then again, that’s how all the best songs are, right from the first time you hear them.

  His voice has that soulful grit that tugs at my emotions. As he sings, I get the urge to push the window open all the way. I could just lean forward and tumble down, down into his arms.

  I stick my head out the window far enough to look from side to side. The windows in the houses next door are all dark. It’s 1:20am and all the normal people are either out clubbing or asleep in their beds.

  He finishes the song and calls up, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  I snort. “Not likely.”

  “Are you alone?”

  The hunger in his voice sends a chill through me.

  “My roommates are here,” I say. It’s a lie, but this is the kind of situation where you should lie. I think.

  “No, they’re not. I tried the other windows first, and yours was the only one with a light on. I didn’t just throw pebbles. I threw a few clods of dirt.”

  “You’re not coming inside.”

  “There’s a ladder back there by the garden shed. I could come right up the side of the house if I wanted to.”

  I step back from the window and slide it shut. I wave to make sure he’s watching, and I point down at my hand as I fasten the lock. Now the window’s locked.

  His face is in the shadows and I can’t see his expression. He takes two steps back. The light from the street lamp glows on his face. Even at this distance, I can see the glint in his eyes.

  My legs feel weak. Those dark eyes of his work magic on me, every time.

  He starts strumming the guitar again. It’s the same one he had busking, with the worn-out varnish. If he can afford to rent such a nice apartment, why doesn’t he buy a better guitar?

  He sings the first line of the song. I know the song instantly. Even through the window glass. There’s no doubt in my mind.

  I flip open the lock and push the window open again. The cool night air washes over me. I hadn’t noticed until now, but my skin is hot. All over. The core of me is practically humming.

  He grins up at me as he sings Jessie’s Girl.

  I can’t help myself. I start singing along with him. My voice is not beautiful like his, so I try to keep it soft.

  He finishes the verse and strums the melody.

  “You know this one,” he calls up.

  “People have sung that to me my whole life. Even though I’m Jessie, and I’m not Jessie’s girl. Sometimes people change around the lyrics. It’s so cheesy.”

  “You hate it?”

  “Yeah. It’s a dumb song.”

  “Liar. I heard you singing along.” He slips the guitar strap off over his head. “I’ll go get the ladder.”

  I mutter under my breath, “No, you won’t.”

  To my shock, he gets a ladder from the shed and sets it against the house below my window.

  I pull back from the window. OMG. He’s coming up the ladder. I can hear his boots as he climbs the rungs.

  In a panic, I scramble around the room to tidy up. I’ve got some dishes and food wrappers on the bedside table. I yank open a drawer and dump everything in.

  As I’m closing the drawer, his head appears at the window.

  “Knock, knock,” he says. “Invite me in.”

  “I would have let you in the front door.”

  He blinks at me, waiting.

  “Fine, come in,” I say.

  He climbs in, groaning about his tight jeans being no good for this sort of thing.

  My hands fly around nervously. “Can I get you anything? Glass of water?”

  He dusts off his jeans and reaches down to unlace his boots. The guitar must have been left outside in the back yard. I think I understand why he plays such a beat-up old guitar—he doesn’t have to worry about it.

  He unlaces the boots and kicks them off. I feel funny getting a glimpse of his socks. They’re gray with a red stripe on the toe. They look like farmer socks. Even though my own feet are bare right now, seeing Dylan’s socks feels intimate.

  My eyes rise slowly. The room is lit only by a small bedside lamp, but that’s more than enough light to see his attractive form. Above the tight jeans, he’s wearing a simple button-up shirt. It’s dark, maybe olive green or blue.

  His dark hair looks longer than I remember. The top part is lanky and flops as he tosses his head. And then there’s his face, with his ruggedly handsome jaw, which just takes my breath away. Especially when he looks at me. Like how he is right now.

  “You’re not dressed to go out,” he says.

  His glinting eyes are making my legs feel weak. I step back and take a seat on the edge of my bed.

  I start to talk, but there’s a lump in my throat. I cough, then say, “I was sleeping. These are my pajamas.”

  “You don’t sleep in the nude?”

  I giggle. “Of course not. What if there’s a fire and you have to run outside? You should always wear something to bed.”

  He walks over to the desk and runs his fingers over the duct tape criss-crossing the top of my laptop. Seeing him touch something of mine makes me feel like he’s touching me. I shake, despite myself.

  “Nice laptop,” he says.

  “It’s like your guitar. Lots of stories to tell. Life experience.”

  His lips curl up in a smile. “That’s a good way to put it,” he says, his voice sounding scratchy like an old record. “Stories and life experience.”

  He pulls out the wooden swivel chair and takes a seat.

  I glance over at the clock radio. It’s 1:35am. What kind of guy shows up at your window at 1:35am? The kind who makes your skin feel hot and your chest ache with longing.

  “I really was sleeping,” I say.

  “You wouldn’t have those pajamas on if you were at my place. I wouldn’t want anything to slow us down.”


  My heart is pounding. He’s not even touching me, and I’m nervous as hell.

  I know Amanda gave me some advice earlier, but I can’t remember a single word of it. She said something about guys being animals. Not helpful.

  “Okay, I see it now,” he says.

  “What?” I’m still on the edge of my bed. My body doesn’t know what to do. I cross my legs, but that feels ridiculous. I uncross my legs.

  “I see the nervousness,” he says. “I’m over here on this antique chair, with some distance between us. I didn’t see it the other day. On Wednesday. I pushed you too far, and I didn’t know until it was too late.”

  My throat feels tight. Is this an apology? Waves of different emotions crash over me. I’m angry, but I’m happy. I want to scream at him that he scared me, but I also want to kiss him.

  “You told the truth that day,” he says.

  “Of course I did. And then you turned into an asshole.”

  “Ouch.” He closes his eyes, grimacing. “I guess I had that coming.”

  “Damn right, you did.”

  He opens his eyes again and locks me in his gaze. “You let me touch your pussy and I nearly lost everything.”

  My cheeks flush at the mention of that word. I pull my eyes away and look down at the carpet. I was swearing at him and calling him names, then he said one little dirty word and now I’m speechless.

  He’s really good at this. I’m in way over my head.

  “How’s that bed?” he asks.

  “You’re not going to sleep over.”

  He chuckles. “That’s not what I asked.”

  He gets up from the chair and walks the three steps to get to me. He stands in front of me, looking down. My chin is at the same level as his belt.

  Why’s he standing in front of me like this? OMG. Does he think I’m going to…

  He’s so close, I can hear him breathing.

  He reaches down and takes my hands in his. He lifts my hands slowly. I’m sure he’s going to make me undo his belt and jeans. But he doesn’t.