Out of Play

“Yeah…me too.” It also kills me to see her like this. To know that she’s much more than the Snow Queen who has every guy in town wrapped around her finger. Which is bull because I’ve known that, but this takes it to a whole new level.

She pulls her knees up, resting her forehead in her hands for a moment before straightening. “How did the night get so screwed up?”

Damned if I don’t wish I had the answer for her. All the answers to whatever she wants to know.

“The game was incredible and then the stupid party…and now Gramps. Ugh! Sometimes life sucks, ya know?”

Story of my life. “Yeah, I do know.”

She turns to look at me. Her eyes are so blue, this wild shade that doesn’t seem real, and it’s like they can see through me, into me. And I want to see into her. To know what’s inside her, but I don’t. All I do know is I need to take away the pained look in them. To see them bright and happy like when we were on the snowmachines.

“Thanks.” She glances down, almost embarrassed, and it does something to me because she’s all strength and sure of herself, but I’m making her cheeks pink and making her tongue sneak out of her mouth to trace her bottom lip.

“You already said that.”

And then she smiles, looking at me again. “You’re such a jerk.”

And damned if I know what comes over me, but I can’t stop myself from leaning forward. From cupping her soft cheek and then pushing my hand through her white-blond hair. The light glimmers off and then I don’t see, don’t know anything else, but the feel of her lips as I cover them with mine.

She gives me a startled “Oh” and then opens up so I can slip my tongue inside. My lip ring presses against her mouth. She tastes sweet, but slightly salty like tears. Then her tongue is moving against mine, like she’s trying to taste every part of me the way I want to taste every part of her.

I suck her lip into my mouth, before my tongue moves in to explore her again. Everything else is forgotten, only calm and need pushing me, making me lean forward to taste her deeper. One of my hands grabs her waist while the other slides behind her neck. Deeper, I want to get as deep as I can until suddenly her lips are gone.

“Bishop… I can’t… Not… I just can’t.”

Pe

Bishop Riley fucks up again. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

Chapter Twelve

Pe

I sit in first period, wishing I could go home.

What’s wrong with me? A guy I like kissed me. While sober. After helping with one of the worst nights of my life, and I said I can’t?

My kisses so far include one with Mitch, which he didn’t want, and a kiss that completely melted me from the inside out.

And that was the one I chose to reject?

I have some serious damage.

It was too much. Too soon. And Gramps—logically I know he’s not going to get better, but his good days still make me hope. And then nights like last night crush any ideas I have of him going back to how he was before the dementia started.

But when I think about last night, Bishop sort of clouds over everything else. It’s just that the kiss was intense. I didn’t know how much he’d want. How far he’d want to go, and I panicked.

And without Bishop, where would I have been with Gramps? He wasn’t listening to me at all, and Mitch never answered his text proving my theory that I’ve lost him in a way I didn’t expect.

I pull in a deep breath, trying to clear my thoughts. I’ll tell Bishop about why I backed away from his kiss after school, or at least hint that I’m all for doing it again. And try not to think about how I might have lost my best friend because he went from always being there to letting twelve hours go by without responding to my need for help.

The bell rings, and I jump. Crap. Good thing I don’t need this class to graduate, because I have no idea what we talked about today.

“Pe

I don’t stop moving. I was gearing up to talk to Bishop, not Mitch.

“Pe

I pull my arm from him and start up the hall. “Check your texts, Mitch.” If he gives me that sad face again, I’ll give him a black eye. I hate it when he treats me like I’m fragile. It makes me feel breakable, which I despise. I’m not that girl. I’m the tough girl. The world needs both kinds, right? Only right now I feel like I could shatter.

“Pe

Three more steps to the stairs.

“Dammit! Pe

I start jogging down. Mitch is right on my tail. I spin before he grabs me and knock his arm away because I can’t handle the kind of excuse he’s about to give me.

“I just want to talk, okay?” His face is an even mix of the pity I hate and sadness.

“Do you?” This time it’s me who steps toward him, and he backs up like I wanted him to, only I don’t want to be arguing with him at all.

He shrugs with his armful of books. “I just got your text this morning. I’m so sorry, Pen.”

I think about Gramps and the dancing and how for the first time Mitch didn’t come when I called. “You left me,” I whisper, only I didn’t mean to. The way Dad left me. The way Mom’s leaving me now, and the way Gramps’s memory is taking him away.

“I left? Pe

I try to shake my head, but I’m slowly going numb so I’m not sure if it works. “How long did it take you notice I was gone? I got home to a naked Gramps last night and you were the only person I knew to call. And you didn’t answer.”

He stares at me for a moment, absorbing everything. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t check my phone until this morning. It’s that I—”

“I don’t want your excuses right now.” I spin and walk away.

“Pe

I grit my teeth. “Not. Right. Now.”

I hear Mitch’s books hit the ground about two seconds before his fist co

Mitch’s frustration or hurt or anger always ends in him bloodying his stupid knuckles. And he should feel bad. I feel hollowed out and horrible that he didn’t answer when I needed him, but even as that thought goes through my head, I know it’s more than missing one text. It’s all the things that ran through my head at the party last night. How I’m losing him along with everyone else.

“I’m sorry, Pe

I’m definitely not okay. Not yet.

…

“Pe

Tiny little Rebecca’s coming my way, her face flat. Not angry, not happy, just…confused. This is not what I need.

The snow’s almost gone on the roadways now, and the slush is getting all over her shoes, but she doesn’t seem to notice. This surprises me because she’s someone who squeals at every tease, and the kind of person I’d expect to be worried about shoes.

But do I actually want to talk to Mitch’s girlfriend knowing she probably knows about my freak-out in the stairway?

Not so much.

I jerk open my truck door, and she sprints to where I’m standing. “No! Wait!”

“I have nothing to say to you.” I tighten my jaw but don’t climb in. Why am I not climbing in?