Suffer Love (23 page)

I pause, my knees tucked under a crevice. I think about my dad, about baseball and climbing and camping and all the things he taught me how to do and love. Everything that seemed to disappear, at least in some form, when he left. I swing my body out, airborne for a brief flash before my hands hook around a hold.

“Not at the moment,” I grunt.

Hadley whistles below me and I don't even try to keep the smile off my face.

“Can I ask you a question?” she says when I stop halfway up to catch my breath.

“Shoot.”

She remains silent and I crane my neck around and down. “Hadley?

“Yeah. Just . . . um.” She bites her lip. “Why do you hang out with Josh?”

I frown and turn back to the wall. “I wouldn't call it hanging out, exactly. We talk at school. Play ball.”

“And?”

I exhale and reach for a hold, anything to keep moving up. “He did a dumbass thing, but he's not a bad guy.”

The rope pulls up on my harness with a ball-cracking jerk. Hadley's got the rope anchored at her hip, her mouth a hard line.

“Hadley,” I squeak. “Come on.”

She purses her lips and lets go. I rappel down and walk over to her, widening my stance in front of her so we're eye level.

“What?” I ask. “What do you want me to say?”

“You don't care that he used me?” She folds her arms but lets me put my hands on her hips and pull her closer.

“Yeah, I care. He and I have had words on the subject. Trust me, when I first found out what happened, I wanted to string him up by something a hell of a lot more painful than his thumbs.”

“But?”

I loop my fingers through her harness belt and hold on. “Hadley. Didn't you do the same thing? Use him, I mean?”

She stiffens and tries to pull back, but I'm hooked in.

“I'm not judging you, Hadley. I've been there . . . I've . . .” Nicole's face flashes in my mind, her clear green eyes laughing and nonchalant.

“I didn't lie,” Hadley says.

“I know that. But . . .” I wipe my forehead on my arm, suddenly pouring sweat. “I mean, people don't do stupid shit just to do it. Don't you think there's always more to it?”

“You're saying that he had a good reason for lying?”

“I'm saying . . .”
Think, man. Careful.
“That Josh was going through some crap and he acted like a dick. It's not an excuse, but that kind of stuff has to be taken into account when we're dealing with other people and trying to find a little meaning behind all the bullshit.”

Something soft flickers in her expression, but it's a sad softness. I tighten my grip on her. “Should I have just said he's a douche and I'm only pretending to be his friend so I can destroy his life from the inside?”

A tiny smile slips onto her mouth.

“You guys doing all right?” Scott approaches in battered Tevas. “You need to either climb or clear out. You're clogging up wall space.”

“Right. Sorry, man.” I take Hadley's elbow, grateful for the mandate.

She stumbles behind me, her head tilted to the side as she really looks at Scott's skin art for the first time.

“See something you like, darlin'?” His lips curl at her in a way that sort of makes me want to throat-punch him.

She laughs nervously. “Oh. Um. Sorry. Just . . . nice tattoo.”

I try to pull her away before we get our asses kicked out, but Scott just grins, clearly pleased. “Yeah, well. I figured the dude made the stuff, so he'd be the first to partake, know what I mean?”

“Oh, yeah. My thoughts exactly.”

“Okay, you guys still good?” Scott asks as he eyes a pair of dudes a few feet away trying to convince one of his employees to let them climb without a harness. Scott starts toward them before I can answer, calling over his shoulder. “Hey, seriously, no falling off and busting your heads open. I yak at the sight of blood.”

“
My thoughts exactly?
” I echo when he's out of sight.

She laughs into her palms. “What was I supposed to say?”

“Nothing. You say nothing to the guy who willingly had a needle stuck in his freaking neck.”

She smiles, but it's half-assed, and she wraps her harness straps around and around her finger.

“What's wrong?” I ask, even though I'm pretty damn sure I don't want to know.

She crosses her arms. “This Josh thing is really bothering me, Sam.”

I stifle a groan and pull my expression into something resembling interest. Because seriously, I'd rather talk about the possibility that Jesus smoked a fat one at the Last Supper than have another conversation about Josh Ellison.

“I mean, I don't get it,” she says, agitated. “Are he and Jenny back together?”

“I think they're working on it.”

“But he's a liar.”

Her voice is getting edgier and edgier. I scrub a hand through my hair so hard it hurts. “He lied. He's not a liar.”

She frowns at my tone, but charges onward. “You really think there's a difference?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Why are you defending him?”

“I'm not! He messed up. So what? One bad choice doesn't mean he's an asshole forever.”

“That's not what I'm saying. I just think—”

“Jesus Christ, Hadley, give it a rest! Can't you just . . .”
Let it go.
But the words die in my throat. Hadley's expression is a mix of anger and hurt, because I'm yelling. Freaking loud, grabbing the attention of half the gym.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” I reach out for her hand. She lets me take it, mostly because I think I've shocked the fight out of her. “God, I'm sorry, Hadley. Please. I'm an ass.”

“What's wrong with you?”

I wait a beat, ready for more stupid to fall out of my mouth. A confession would be really nice right now, just get it the hell over with, but it doesn't come because I'm a total pansy-ass. “Nothing. I'm tired, that's all.”

Her mouth parts in unbelief. Cold shame fills me up—hell, I don't even believe me. “Had, I'm sorry.”

She looks away, squinting at the other climbers. Her eyes land on a group of girls our age. They're yelping and egging each other on, the girl on the wall laughing so hard, she's now dangling from her rope like a sack of potatoes.

“Let's just climb, okay?” Hadley says, threading the rope through her device to give me some slack.

I think I say yes, or at least nod. Doesn't matter. I launch myself at the wall. Fucking Josh. Fucking parents. Fucking fuck. I take a different route this time, pushing everything from my mind that's not me and the next hold. I swallow down everything I need to deal with. Everything in my whole goddamn life. I reach the top in a shower of adrenaline and a decent amount of oblivion. I rappel back down and unhook my rope.

“Impressive.” Hadley's voice is way more relaxed than before, but her smile is still tight.

“Go again?” I ask, fingers tingling to get back up there.

“Sure.”

We both climb a few more routes. By the time eight o'clock rolls around, my stomach is growling and my arms and legs are aching.

“What now?” Hadley asks when we get back into the car. She folds her arms around her knees, tucking herself away. Her hair sticks to the back of her neck, and her cheeks glow with the flush of exercise and excitement. Or maybe that's just plain old pissed off.

“Now.” I lean toward her to brush a kiss below her ear, desperate to diffuse this tension. I linger there for a minute, trying to memorize the way her skin smells and feels under my mouth. She sort of shivers and lets out a huge sigh. “We go back to my house and I cook you dinner.”

She smiles and leans into me, my temper tantrum forgotten.

For now.

My arms and legs and butt are already burning from using muscles I didn't even know I had. The warm water from the shower runs over my skin, washing away the leftover chalk and soothing the blister on my right thumb. My body feels almost broken, but my mind is weirdly clear and still humming with Sam's explosion.

I throw on the jeans and long-sleeved shirt from my bag and find him in the kitchen. His hair is darker from his own shower, droplets of water sliding off the ends and onto the shoulder of his snug black T-shirt. He looks up from ladling a thick soup from a slow cooker into two bowls, the muscles in his forearms rippling. A smile ghosts across his mouth and we stare at each other for a few long seconds.

“Chicken and dumplings?” I ask, glad for the distraction of food. He hands me the bowl on a plate with a thick slice of brown bread. I hop onto the barstool and he rounds the island to join me.

“Uh, yeah. Hope that's okay. I made it earlier today. It's not fancy, but it's good for sticking to your ribs after a workout. That's what my dad used to say, anyway.”

I slip a spoonful into my mouth. “Holy crap.”

“Holy crap good?”

I nod through a mouthful and he grins.

“It's Ajay's favorite. He loves it so much, he doesn't even use a spoon, just scoops up the broth and dumplings with a piece of bread.”

“Ah. Good ol' Ajay.” I rip off a hunk of bread. “Speaking of your verbose pal, what's up with him and Kat?”

Sam's spoon freezes in midflight to his mouth.

“Sam Bennett. Tell me he left that pig in her locker.”

He lowers his spoon and turns to face me, a wry smile on his lips. “Now, that's not a sentence one would expect to hear every day, is it?”

“
Sam.
”

“I'm not at liberty to disclose such sensitive information.”

“You do realize that your goofy grin is sort of giving you away.”

He laughs and squeezes my knee. “Kat's in good hands, Hadley. That's all I can say.”

“She better be, or I will personally ensure that Mr. Desai's ability to procreate is severely impaired.”

“Duly noted.”

After dinner, we end up curled under a blanket on Sam's bed, watching old episodes of
Friends
on his computer. We laugh at all the appropriate places, but it sounds forced, from both of us. I try to concentrate on the dialogue, on Sam's fingers idling up and down my arm, but my mind keeps drifting back to his outburst in the climbing gym. I've never seen Sam so worked up. I know he's struggling with his dad gone, and his relationship with his mom is borderline scary. He was
angry,
and I understand angry, but it all seemed directed at me . . .

I shiver in Sam's arms.

“Was this a good date?” he asks, startling me out of my thoughts.

I nod, my head nestled where his shoulder meets his chest. I breathe in his clean, soapy smell, letting the realness of him push out the doubts in my mind.

“Sorry we didn't go to a fancy restaurant or something. I wanted to do something memorable, something unique.”

“No, I loved it. Scott was by far the highlight.”

“Ha.” He takes my hand and threads our fingers together. “I could waltz you around my room if you want.”

I laugh and nuzzle in closer. “Maybe later. Right now, this is perfect.”

“Yeah. Almost perfect.”

“Almost?”

He inhales so sharply, it's nearly a gasp. “Hadley. I . . . I need to talk to you.”

I prop myself up on my elbows. “What? What's wrong?” I ask, and his eyes fill with this deep sadness. He looked the same way at the gym when he realized he was yelling at me. I want to erase that look, soak it up with my skin and replace all of it with
us.
I touch his face and he closes his eyes.

I press my lips to his. He tenses briefly and then releases, like he's letting go of something heavy. He rolls me over onto my back and looks down at me, eyes roaming over my face. He slides his thumb over my lower lip and brings his mouth to mine again. His kisses are slow and soft, exploring my jaw, down my neck, and across my collarbone before traveling back to my lips, and I'm nearly panting by the time he increases the pressure. His tongue slips over mine, carefully at first and then hungrily. My body responds, greedy for him, for every part of him I can't reach. I hear our breathing, little sounds rolling out of our throats, driving our hands over each other's bodies.

Everything fades into the back of my mind. My parents. My nervousness over this fragile young thing between Sam and me. His anger at the gym. Because this is right.
This.
His hands in my hair and his breath on my neck. This is what I want and I feel almost giddy just letting myself want it.

I pull up his shirt and he yanks it off. I run my hands over his smooth skin, glowing almost gold in the dim light. His leanly roped arms lift my own shirt and we're skin to skin, mouth to mouth, racing heart to racing heart. Everything is warm, everything is soft but urgent. His hips slide in between my legs and I gasp, the feel of him sending little shivers all the way down to my fingertips. I find the button on his jeans and flip it free, my fingers edging along his skin and into the elastic of his boxers.

He sucks in a breath.

I find his mouth again and tug his lower lip gently between my teeth. I push closer, the ache for him colliding with everything else. My hand dips lower.

“God . . . Hadley.”

Then everything stops.

His hands encircle my wrists and he pulls them free, tucking them against his chest.

“
Wait.
”

His labored whisper barely filters through my own fog. My head spins, air pumping in and out of my lungs. “What? Why?”

“Hadley.” His voice is soft in my ear, his breathing heavy. He kisses my cheek and lingers there.

“Don't you want this?” I ask.

He lets out a ragged sigh. “Yeah. Jesus, of course I do. But—”

“So I do too.” I try to pull him closer. I need him closer. Nothing is close enough. I press a kiss to his throat and push my hips toward his.