“I’m not trying to be creepy, but I really need to put these on the dashboard over the heat because there’s no way I can make the drive home with this wet, disgusting fabric wrapped around my skin.”
As I roll off my leggings, Hendrix looks from me to straight forward, almost like he’s scared to look my way. But from the corner of my eye, I watch him peel his jeans off too.
“I’m not being a fucking weirdo, I swear,” he utters, almost as if he’s nervous. “But there’s no way I can ride home in those jeans either.”
“I don’t blame you,” I reply shyly.
Once the leggings are off, I set them on the heat vent.
“Sorry, hopefully you don’t mind me using your truck as a dryer.” I grimace and try to fight my body from shivering, but it’s useless. Even as the truck warms with each passing minute, my skin is covered in goose bumps.
As thunder booms and lightning strikes, the rain continues to pick up, then slows down, only to pick up once more.
“We’d better just wait for the storm to pass before we take off,” he says before looking my way again just as I shiver.
“Hey …” Hendrix mutters, his dark, wet hair falling onto his face as he pushes up the center console of the truck. “Come here.”
Every sane thought in my mind is telling me not to do it. It’s saying to ask to go home and keep my ass on this side of the truck. We’ve fooled around, sure. Yet, somehow, I know that if I crawl over onto him with both of us practically naked, what happens next will be much deeper.
But for whatever reason, when I’m around Hendrix Hunt, my sane brain cells don’t win. Instead, they fall to the ones that think it’s a good idea to crawl, half naked, onto the campus bad boy’s thighs.
I climb toward him, and he tugs me onto his lap so that I’m straddling him. I rest my head against his shoulder. His T-shirt is damp in some spots, but luckily, his hoodie soaked up most of the precipitation.
His arms wrap around my body, holding me against him, and little by little, my shivering slows, and I snuggle in a little deeper.
His fingertips scrape gently up and down my back, and my nipples harden, making me thankful that I have a bra and T-shirt on to shield me from poking into him. Even after being stuck in a rainstorm, he smells good enough to eat.
“Hey, Isla?” he utters quietly.
“Yeah?”
He inhales. “Thank you for today. For coming with me and for making it into a good day, even after Juliet forgot who I was.” He pauses. “I bet you’re wondering about Lilly now more than ever, huh?”
I swallow, unsure of how to answer. Every single time Juliet mentioned that name, Hendrix would flinch or become tense. I don’t want to cause him pain by forcing him to talk about his sister. But I also find myself wanting to understand him better. And to understand him, I need him to open up to me.
“You don’t have to tell me anything that you aren’t comfortable with,” I whisper as gently as I can and reach for his hand, giving it a squeeze.
I’m met with silence, and when I release his hand, it doesn’t return to running up and down my back.
Finally, he speaks. “I haven’t seen Lilly since I was sixteen. That’s when the state came in and took her. She was, and I—” His breathing becomes shaky, and his body tenses. “Lilly and I, we grew up with our father. The scum of the earth is the best way to explain him. Our mom died when we were little, and I don’t think she was much better, from what I remember.”
I know that I shouldn’t push him, but I also know that him opening up this way is a breakthrough, and I want him to get it off his chest, everything that’s bothering him. So, reluctantly, I push for more.
“What happened to her?” I whisper, caressing his hair gently. “What happened to Lilly?”
Against my body, I can feel his heart racing while he avoids eye contact with me.
“I fucked up. I took something too far one day, and the state came and got her. I don’t even know if she’s okay.” He swallows, finally looking at me. “Your dad and Coach? They’re right to want to keep you away from me, Isla. I’m no good.”
I don’t know what he did on the day his sister was taken away, and I decide not to push any further because what he just shared had to have hurt to say. But slowly, it all clicks. His pain, it comes from guilt. Guilt that he let his sister down. And fear that she isn’t safe.
I’m not looking at him right now like the campus bad boy everyone is warning me about. To me, he’s a broken boy who is stuck, being tortured by his past. We all have pasts, and he shouldn’t be looked down upon just because he has a dark one.
Whatever happened on the day his sister was taken into the state’s custody wasn’t his fault—I’m sure it wasn’t. I can tell how much he loves her just from the way that he talks.
Pulling back, I look at him, skimming my hands to his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, Hendrix,” I whisper, looking right into his broken eyes. “But none of that is your fault. You were a kid.”
