King's Baby - A Bad Boy Romance (7 page)

Chapter Three

Holland

Not
two minutes after we’ve piled into the car, I feel my phone vibrate in my
pocket. It’s
him.
He’s asking if I’m
okay. Crap, what should I say? What should I do? My common sense takes a
temporary leave of absence, and before I know it, I’m typing a response.

What
did I do? What did I do? What did I do? My heart leaps in my chest and I begin
to silently panic. I was supposed to leave the club and never look back. I was
supposed to forget my first night of drinking and everything that happened with
King. Oh hell. Who am I kidding? King is impossible to forget, and that is why
I couldn’t ignore his text.

“So
Holland? Holland? Holland!” Savannah yells at me, turning around in her seat
and snapping me back to reality. When I look up with hot tears brimming in my
eyes, her eyes widen.

“Oh
my gosh, what’s wrong? Did that bastard hurt you?” She reaches out to take my
hand and squeezes it tight.

“No,
no. He didn’t hurt me.” I shake my head vigorously. “I’ve just never . . . I
don’t know.”

“Never
what, Holland?” she says sharply, squeezing my hand so hard that the ring I
always wear pinches my skin. I’m not sure how to answer her. Should I lie and
say we just messed around? I’ve never done anything with a guy, so her question
could be honestly answered many ways. Or should I just tell her everything and
get it off my chest? Mika pulls over to the side of the road and turns in her
seat, locking her suspicious eyes on me. Mika is more experienced. She knows
immediately—I don’t have to say a word.

“Oh
my God, you had sex with him, Holland. How the hell did that happen? Holy shit!
I’m gay, but I’d do that man. He’s fucking impressive.” Nausea hits me hard. My
head is pounding, my pulse is racing, and I feel faint. If I had to guess what
an anxiety attack feels like, it would be exactly like this.

“Mika,
shut up. She didn’t have sex with him,” Savannah snaps. When I don’t answer,
she looks at me again.

“Did
you, Holland?”

I
fumble with the door handle and open the car door just in time to puke all over
the curb. Relief washes over me for a few seconds. It feels good to purge my
body of the alcohol that’s been sloshing around in my belly for three hours.
But the feeling is short lived when I retch two more times. Savannah is out of
the car in a flash, holding my hand, and Mika has abandoned the driver’s seat
to slide into the back seat behind me.

“Shit,
I’m sorry. I don’t know to be subtle, Holland. It’s a curse.” I’m panting and
gasping for breath as Mika holds my hair away from my face and Savannah speaks
soothing words into my ear.

“Shush,
Holland, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” When I catch my breath, I
pull my legs back into the car and flop my head against the back seat and close
my eyes. I take a few cleansing breaths and lift my heavy lids to find that
both girls are staring at me, full of anticipation. Savannah’s hand is splayed
over her heart, and Mika is nervously running her finger along the inside of
her necklace.

“I
. . . I’ve never . . .”

“Did
he force himself on you?” Savannah’s voice rises with every word. I shake my
head back and forth.

“I’m
fine. It’s just my stomach. I drank too much.”

“Alcohol?
I think this is more than alcohol messing with your nerves,” Mika says.

“We
made out, but I wanted to as much as he did.”

“He’s
so old,” Savannah whispers.

“Well,
you made me look like I’m twenty-five, Savannah. What do you expect? And he
wants to see me again. He wants to hear me play.” I push my way out of the car
and teeter when the sidewalk tilts in front of me. I reach out and grip the
door until I have my balance, and I start to pace, opening and closing my hands
and shaking them out at my sides.

“What
are you gonna do?” Mika asks. She leans against the back of the car and crosses
her arms over her chest, propping her foot on the bumper. I stop and stare at
her shoes—wedges. She’s so smart. Note to self: never allow Savannah to
choose my shoes again. I turn and take a few steps down the sidewalk away from
them.

“I
don’t know,” I tell them I don’t know, but I do. I’m going to see him again.
There’s no way I can’t.

“Do
you like him?” Mika asks. Savannah answers for her.

“Who
cares if she likes him or not? She’s nineteen, and he is so not. She can’t see
him again . . . ever. If he finds out we were in there with fake IDs, we could
get in a lot of trouble. He’s old enough to be your daddy, Holland.”

I
spin around. Savannah’s standing with her hands on her hips, and it irks me.
She’s the reason I’m in this mess, and now she’s going to scold me for it?

“No,
he is not. I mean, I don’t know how old he is, but . . . you don’t really think
he’s that old, do you?” Both girls look at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“What?”
I shrug my shoulders.

“You’re
actually thinking about seeing him again, aren’t you? You like him,” Savannah
says.

“Just
how much
making out
did you guys do,
Holland?” Mika asks, holding up her fingers to put quotes around the words
‘making out’.

It’s
now or never. I have to make a decision . . . tell them or make something up.

“We
just kissed—that’s all,” I blurt out.

Mika
blows out a breath of relief and Savannah’s shoulders relax.

“Well
thank God for that. Let’s get home and forget this night ever happened. We can
scratch IDs and clubs off the itinerary. I’ve had enough of all that until I’m
actually twenty-one,” Savannah says.

That
damn itinerary.

“Well,
not me. You know where to find me every Friday night, ladies. I’ll keep an eye
on him for you, Holland.” Mika winks and slugs my arm lightly.

“You
feel good enough to go home now?”

“Yeah,
we’d better sneak in before my mama figures out we’re gone. So far this night
hasn’t at all gone as planned. It would be just my luck to get caught and
punished for such an epic failed attempt at being a rebel.” Savannah reaches
for my hand and leads me to the front passenger door.

“Sit
on my lap. It’s only a couple blocks.” She climbs in and pats her lap.

“My
breath smells like puke.”

“It’s
okay. This is sort of my fault. I feel bad.” She pulls me down onto her lap,
and I shut the door and lean my head against the frame of the open window. Mika
enters the driver’s side. Her seatbelt clicks, and in seconds, we’re pulling
away from the curb and toward my house.

Thank
God we are able to safely climb the shaky trellis to my bedroom without
breaking our necks. We strip out of our sweaty club clothes and stuff them in
her duffle bag. Savannah zips it up and sprays perfume all over the outside,
hopefully covering the smell of alcohol, puke and cigarette smoke. I pull a
brush through my hair, brush my teeth and wash all traces of makeup from my
face while Savannah does the same. When I look like myself again, we crawl into
my comfy bed and face each other on our sides. Savannah begins quizzing me. I
knew it was just a matter of time, but I was hoping she’d let me sleep a while
before starting in.

“What
was it like?” She presses her palms together and slides them under her pillow.

“Making
out?”

“Not
just making out—making out with an older man who looks like he belongs on
the cover of GQ.” I’m so glad the room is dark when I feel the heat of a hot
blush creep up my neck.

“It
was nice.”

“Nice?
That’s it? Just nice?”

What
am I supposed to say to her? That he’s a chiseled god who stole my virginity
and my heart in less than an hour?
That I can still feel his
hands all over my bare skin and his lips on my . . . Oh God, no way.

“He
was sweet and polite, and he’s a good kisser, although I don’t have anything to
compare it to. What else is there to say?”

She
sighs and kicks me in the shin—not hard, but enough to let me know that
she’s not believing
my abbreviated version of the story.

“Why
are you holding back?”

Because I’m embarrassed that I had sex with the first man to
ever show me any attention, and because I was reckless and careless and
juvenile.

 
“There isn’t anything else to tell. We
went upstairs and had champagne, he kissed me, and we went inside his apartment
to talk, and he kissed me again. End of story.”

It’s
hard to see in the dark, but I know she rolls her eyes before she fires another
question.

“What’s
his apartment like?”

“It’s
big and clean, and it has a ridiculous bathroom that looks like it belongs in
the Taj Mahal.”

“What?
Why were you in his bathroom?”

“Uh,
I had to pee.” Sarcasm isn’t really my forte but I think that question warrants
a little.

“The
Taj Mahal?”

“Everything
was black lacquer and gold, with candelabras and angel statues all over the
place. Super weird.”

“Really?
Yeah, that is weird.” She’s quiet, and I imagine she is trying to visualize
King’s crazy bathroom, but after a few minutes, I’m starting to think she’s
fallen asleep when she speaks again.

“Do
you really like him?”

 
“Yes.”

“Are
you going to . . .?”

“I
don’t know,” I whisper.

Tired
and warm, we both snuggle deeper under the blanket at the same time, signaling
the end of our conversation.

“Night.”

 
“Goodnight, Savannah.” I wait until she’s
softly snoring to turn over and stare out the window at the fingernail moon
while I think.

I
am going to see him again. If he calls, I’m answering. We may be light years
apart in age, but he doesn’t have to know that. It’s stupid and risky, but I
need to see him. I can’t lose my virginity to a man and never see his face
again, especially his beautiful face. I have all summer to be reckless before
going to Juilliard, and I want to spend it being reckless with King. The only
thing I regret about tonight is the unprotected sex. I’m kind of freaked out
about that. What are the chances of getting pregnant the first time?
I mean, I know it happens.
I just really hope it hasn’t
happened to me. I’ve been a good kid all my life—nearly perfect,
actually. I can’t believe the first mistake I end up making is such a whopper.

It’s
two in the morning, and I still haven’t slept. My head is pounding, and my
tongue feels like it’s covered with sand. I slide out of bed, careful not to
wake Savannah. I wait until the door is closed to turn the light on in the
bathroom. Under the harsh light, I catch my reflection in the mirror when I
reach for the bottle of Ibuprofen. King will never believe I’m his age without
the dim lights, the makeup and the stiletto heels. After popping the three
pills into my mouth, I down a full glass of water. I place my hands on the edge
of the counter and lean toward the mirror to look closer at myself.

“What
are you doing, Holland?” I whisper to my reflection. I drop my chin to my chest
and sigh. I feel sloshy and bloated, but more than anything, I’m tired. I push
off the counter and switch off the light, pad across the room and crawl back
into bed. I’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Right now, I just need to sleep.

***

“Up
and at ‘em, girls.” My mama bursts through the bedroom door, clapping her hands
at the ungodly hour of . . . ten a.m.

I
grab my head and cover my ears.

“Dear
God, why does she have to do that?” Savannah moans next to me and rolls over.

“You
girls must have been up late last night. What were you doing up here, anyway?”
she says as she crosses the room to my window.

“Um,
just watching movies and messing around.” I lie to my mother for the first time
in my life. She pushes my curtains open wide and pats me on the behind as she
breezes by, leaving the smell of bacon and honey wafting behind her.

“Get
up. Breakfast is ready, and you have a room reserved to practice in today, so
we need to get going.” Shit, I almost forgot.

“You
said we were going swimming today,” Savannah whines from under the covers.

“I
forgot, sorry. Maybe when I’m done?” I squint out of one eye at my mama to see
if she approves. She stops in the doorway with her hand on the knob.

“Yes,
that’s fine as long as it’s
after
you
practice.” I nudge Savannah with my elbow under the covers.

“Give
me a ride?” I ask.

“I
will take you, Holland,” Mama says. Now her hands are on her hips. She’s
irritated that I’ve asked Savannah, but I need some freedom today, and I’ll
never get it being shuttled around by my mama.