Burnout (Jack 'Em Up Book 0) (11 page)

Delilah

B
lake Travers refused to have sex with me tonight. And somehow, it was the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.

I’m yours . . . And you’re mine. There’s no changing that now.

He meant it. I know he did. I could feel him in every cell of my body, in my soul. When he looked at me like that and said those things, I suddenly wasn’t scared anymore. He may be a bad boy with a bad reputation . . . one that was well-earned . . . but with every sweet glance, every exquisitely soft touch, every word he spoke, he was showing me his true heart. And I loved him.

I
loved
him.

And it was the most exhilarating thing that I’d ever experienced.

When we parted ways at the pier, I could feel him wanting to say something. Maybe he felt some of this strange, beautiful love. I could only hope. But I settled for one more hot kiss before I climbed back into my car and headed home, feeling strangely empty without him.

I snuck back into my house at midnight as silently as possible and slipped off my shoes to pad up the stairs. I tucked myself in the bathroom and clicked the door shut before flipping on the light. Getting ready for bed, I wondered how things would be between Blake and I once we were back in school. The same? New and exciting?

“Oomph!” Ducking out toward my room, I slammed into a body in the dark hallway.

“Hey!” my sister stage-whispered.

“Sorry.” I side-stepped her and moved for my bedroom door.

“Where’ve you been?” Her question was laced with suspicion.

I took a breath with my hand pressed to the door then spun around, searching the darkness for her face. “Please don’t tell,” I urged, my voice low and urgent.

She didn’t say a word, just stood there staring at me. I could just make out her frown in the light from her bedroom window.

“Danielle. Please.”

She thrust a hip out and crossed her arms across her chest. “Why? Where were you?”

I sighed. There had been a time when my sister and I were best friends. We shared Barbies and books and little girl secrets. But all that changed as our family started to morph into this Stepford version. Could I trust her again? “I was with . . . a friend.” My voice shook and I swear I could still taste Blake on my lips.

“A friend?” She clearly didn’t believe me. “A
boy
friend?”

I rushed toward her, desperate for her not to ruin this. To not tell our parents. “Please. Don’t tell. I’ll do anything . . .”

“What’s his name?”

I couldn’t read the tone of her voice. She was either going to keep my secret or tell our parents everything. I was already busted, so I had to take a chance. “Blake.”

“Do you love him?”

I sucked in a breath. What to say? Lie? I hadn’t even told him how I felt. But it was obvious that Danielle wanted the details if she was going to keep this to herself. “Yes,” I whispered.

I could feel her gaze hot on my face, then she nodded once and moved toward the bathroom.

“Danielle?”

She stopped.

“Are you going to tell on me?”

I could hear the smile in her voice, “Tell what?”

I was grinning when I closed myself in my room.

The next morning, I felt like I was floating on a cloud as I glided into school ten minutes early and headed straight for Government. I had spied Blake’s car in the parking lot already, its brand new, shiny quarter panel in place. How had I missed that last night? Probably too preoccupied with a certain car owner. I grinned that it looked so good, and that I’d remembered what it was called.

In class, he was seated, his eyes glued to something on his desk. As I approached, he didn’t glance up from the notes in front of him.

I dropped my book bag on the ground and faced my desk, puzzled. Then I saw it.

The most perfect white rose lying on my chair.

Something warm unfurled in my chest as I bent and picked it up, bringing it to my nose. I glanced around the nearly empty room, then I realized I didn’t care what everyone thought. I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you.”

Twinkling brown eyes met mine. “For what?”

I twirled the rose between my fingers. “For this. For being you.”

His gaze dipped down to the flower in my hand. “Who says I left that?”

“Ah . . .” I sniffed. “Then I have another admirer? Who should I thank?”

A frown touched his mouth. “No one.”

Impulsively, I leaned down again and kissed his lips this time. Before I could pull away, he reached up and cupped my head, keeping me close and opening his mouth to deepen the kiss with a swirl of his tongue. I stifled a moan and put my flowerless hand on his shoulder, wonderful warmth seeping through his leather jacket into my fingers. I idly noticed he needed a shave as his stubble rubbed across my sensitive face.

When he let me go and I stepped back, I caught Mrs. Dunbar’s startled expression as she walked into the room.

I offered her a small smile and waved with the rose in my hand before sitting, feeling my heart swell to near bursting.

Once class was underway, Blake folded one of the papers on his desk into an airplane and launched it toward me. I caught it and unfolded his note.

You’re so pretty. Wanna be my girlfriend?

My eyes snapped up, a confused frown building on my face. He was grinning at me, his pen still clutched in his hand as he tipped it back and forth between his fingers.

Sorry. I have a boyfriend
, I wrote back, playing along.

I watched his brows thunder down.
Who is he? I’ll kill him.

A giggle escaped before I could help it. I slapped a hand over my mouth and glanced up to make sure nobody had heard me.
This really hot, funny, super sweet grease monkey who buys me flowers. Nobody you know. <3

Huh. My loss then. Hope he treats you right.

Something strange curled around my heart. He had no idea how perfect he was for me. How he treated me more like a princess than anyone ever had.
He does.

I nearly wrote ‘I love him,’ but stopped myself. How would he react? It was too early in our relationship for all of that. But it didn’t stop my romantic heart from drowning in the emotion.

After class, Blake walked me to Physics as usual. We passed Rachel in the hall and she grinned when she saw us holding hands. “Hey, guys.”

Blake nodded once, his ever-observant eyes tracking the crowd around us.

“Hey,” I said. “How was your holiday?”

Rachel shrugged, causing the curly red ponytail draped over her shoulder to shift. “It was all right. Mom burned the turkey. Again. But they got me a car.”

I squealed. “A car?”

“Yeah. It’s no Beamer, but it’s pretty nice. Come see it after school.”

I agreed, guilt nipping at me that I had been so wrapped up in Blake over the break that I hadn’t even talked to my best friend.

Blake and I walked on and I noticed for the first time how many friends he really had. He waved to his friend, Jesse, and they tossed insults back and forth as we passed. Then we ran into Jesse’s little sister, Leta, then his other friend, Micah, who was with a tall guy I’d met briefly at the Christmas party.

“Dee, you remember my bud, Micah, and Moose Boy.”

The stranger’s gold-green eyes sparked with amusement. “Name’s Trace, Hot Rod.”

Blake laughed, deep and loud, and the sound hugged my heart.

“Hot Rod?” I asked. “I can imagine where that came from, but . . . Moose Boy?” I turned my attention back to Trace.

“I just moved here from Alaska. These two numbskulls think it’s funny to make fun of the indigenous wildlife.”

I grinned, liking this guy. He was fun-natured, obviously smart. And good-looking, too. Though he had nothing on Blake’s rough, storm-like appeal.

We moved on before the warning bell and Blake got me to class on time. He pressed a kiss to my lips, his breath whispering out across my skin. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

He turned to go then stopped. “So, think you’ll reconsider dumping that grease monkey guy for me?”

His grin made my heart stop then flutter madly like a moth at a flame. “Never.”

“Really? Why not?” He was taking steps backwards as he talked. I knew he was going to be late to class.

“Because . . .” He was several feet from me now, so I raised my voice. “He’s special.”

Blake

T
he winter passed in a blur. My life had become consumed by Delilah Jackson and our stolen moments together. Her sweet, clean scent, her laugh, the way she looked into my eyes like she truly understood me, even when I tried to hold back.

She really was my princess. I didn’t just call her that for fun. My perfect little princess, who was beginning to mean way too much to me.

Jesse, Micah, Trace and I had gone out a couple of times to shoot the shit, and I still worked at the Super Lube, but otherwise, I spent every second I could with Delilah. At the beach, out to eat, movies, bundled up for a picnic at the park, even though it was too damn cold . . . making out in my car. But, I’d never let it go too far. I wanted to, God, how I wanted to. She had me burning up with lust. But, I’d stuck to my guns, keeping her virginity intact until I could give her what she deserved.

Though I wasn’t sure that would ever happen.

Tonight, the first night of Spring Break, as I let myself back into my darkened house after one of our dates—ice cream from Sonic and lots of kissing—I wondered if she’d ever get sick of me . . . of the snide looks other people gave her when she was with me, the lurking feeling that we always had to hide in public, the whole deal. She said no, but I had a hard time believing her.

Stale cigarette smoke, quiet hopelessness, and anger greeted me as soon as I closed the door, shutting myself in with the ugliness that was home.

“Blake.”

That’s all my dad said, but the contempt lacing his voice had the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.

I flipped on the entryway light, illuminating a portion of the living room, and saw the trash strewn across the coffee table, along with several empty beer cans. My father’s gaunt, miserable, hate-filled face shone in the dim light. He suddenly looked like a tired, angry old man and I realized how impossibly hard he’d taken my mother’s death. But I also understood that gave him no excuse to drink himself into the grave and spew venom on everyone within spitting distance.

He clambered to his feet, a bit wobbly. “Where the fuck have you been? Huh, boy?” He approached me and all I could smell was old sweat and older liquor.

I slipped off my leather jacket and hung it on my mom’s old coat rack. “Out.”

He was suddenly in my face. “Out where? Or maybe I should ask, out with
who
?”

I narrowed my gaze, sensing something was off. “Just out.”

“Well, funny, I heard from some of the guys down at the bar that you’re sniffing around the Sheriff’s slutty little daughter.”

I inhaled, trying to calm myself. What was between Delilah and I was private. Not for public consumption, and definitely not for him to dirty up with his filthy mouth. “I
said
, I was out. The rest is none of your business.” Fists clenched, I spun to get away from him before I did something I’d regret, but he suddenly had my arm in a vice-like grip.