I hated him. I wanted him. And no matter how much he tried to hide it, there was a silent pull between us that wouldn’t be severed because of a few insults.
“You pissed me off, Blaze.”
Then it was just his lips against mine.
Kissing Jackson was different. The only girl I’d ever kissed in my life was Tiffany during a game of spin the bottle, but Jackson didn’t kiss like she did. It wasn’t a soft kiss. His tongue wasn’t smooth; it was rough. And his hands had the same roughness. I shut my eyes when his metal piercing made my lips quiver as his tongue met mine in an unstoppable whirlwind. I was so caught up in the heat of the moment that I almost didn’t realize how rock-hard Jackson’s body felt against my stomach.
After that kiss at summer camp, for a moment I thought I was wrong, but then I didn’t have any more doubts. I didn’t like girls. He was the one I wanted, the six-foot-three football player who shot me furtive glances at halftime.
With labored breath, Jackson tore his lips from mine, releasing me from the hold of his solid weight.
Incredulous but pleasantly confused, I brought my fingers to touch my lips. I had frozen against the wall during the entire kiss. I hadn’t even had the courage to caress his jaw as he put his hands all over me.
“What the fuck are you looking at now?” he growled.
“I—”
Jackson flung the door open and left, employing his greatest talent: leaving me breathless once again.
12
June
“Where are the keys to the Mustang?” William asked when we got back to the Tropical entrance.
“James gave them to me, but if he finds out you’re driving . . .” Marvin massaged the clean-shaven nape of his neck as he looked at us absentmindedly.
“Gimme the keys,” Will said forcefully, completely changing the tone of his voice. Marvin shrugged nonchalantly, threw Will the keys, and went back to chatting with the girls.
“Will, where are we going?” I tried to keep up with him as he headed toward the parking lot, only stopping when we reached the sports car. The metallic black paint dazzled in the night. It looked like it was in mint condition.
“Is it yours?”
“No, it’s James’s.” He opened the car door. “Get in.”
“Why do you have to drive his car?” I demanded as I complied.
As soon as I sat in the passenger seat, I knew the car was new. It smelled like pine trees. The mats didn’t show a single imperfection, and every detail from the door handles to the steering wheel was immaculate.
William didn’t answer my question. He seemed too focused on starting the engine.
“I have to be careful. This thing will go from zero to sixty just by tapping on the gas pedal,” he murmured, agitated.
The front of the car was dark but I saw his pupils dilate, and I started getting a bad feeling in my gut. I clearly understood the signal he was trying to send me—Something’swrong, and you’re about to walk into some serious shit, June White.
“What kind of dad would buy this kind of car for his teenage kid?” I blurted a bit indignantly.
Will shot me a perplexed look. I was like a carbon copy of my mom when I acted this way. “His dad just got it for him.”
“Where the hell are we going?” I asked again, when I started picking up on how irritated he was acting.
Will ran his fingers through his hair with one hand and firmly grasped the steering wheel with the other, drumming his fingers on it.
“June . . .”
“Do you have your license?”
“I do, but they took it away.”
