Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) (8 page)

I
t’
s been a week, an entire week since AJ started hating me. If only I had listened to her and left the pool when she asked. But I wanted to spend some time with her and waiting by the back door felt like the right thing to do. Except, when I saw her. Fuck she has a sweet little body that I wanted to stare at all day. Before last week I thought she was pretty, now I know she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life. However, for some reason, she freaked out when she saw me and ran away to her room. Since then, I haven’t seen her. She holed herself up in her room and only her parents are allowed to go in and out.

“What happened, Porter?” Gabe asks for the fourth time during dinner. “We just have to find out so we can help her. The last time I went in, she said that maybe she’ll come out by Christmas. That’s more than six months away.”

“Nothing, I swear, Gabe.” I rub my eyes with the heel of my hands. “She was swimming for a long time. As she came out and saw me, she ran to the house and that was that. I’d never do anything to her. She’s my friend.”

“Hormones?” Chris stares at Gabe, who only tilts his head to the side with some kind of ‘I guess so,’ gesture. “We’ll just have to let her ride this one out, like all the others. Shit, handling her is worse than the boys. They might destroy the house, but I get them. Ainse . . . I’ve no idea what to say or do sometimes. Maybe her brothers will work their magic when they come back.”

“We just have to love her, babe,” Gabe responds. As if love is the solution to whatever I did to AJ. “If all else fails, as you said, JC and MJ will drag her out . . . as long as they don’t set her room on fire.”

Love.

From the first time I saw her, my life was dedicated to her, but during dinner when they said that we should love her, it all clicks. I have to show her that I’d do anything for her.

Early in the morning, armed with my guitar and a bottle of water, I knock at the door and begin to sing.

Come out

Or I’ll never stop singing.

I sing it over and over again, annoying the hell out of her in hopes that she’d come out to talk to me. If I could just find out what I did, apologize to her and show her just how much she means to me, everything will go back to normal.

But AJ doesn’t budge; it takes hours for her to finally react to my singing. “Shut up,” she screams.

I sigh with relief, leaning my head against the wall, hopeful that she’ll come out soon, and continue. “Not until you come out . . .”

My plan is working perfectly until Gabe rushes through the hallway and bangs on her door. “Come out before we kill him, AJ.” I gulp, but he gives me a smirk and leaves me when the door handle wiggles.

“What do you want?” her eyebrows form a V and her eyes have that red rim around the iris that scares me. Usually, it appears when her brothers upset her.

But I don’t let that bother me, I have to convince her that we’re friends and she should keep talking to me. “Duh, for you to come out. You promised to hang out with me and that was a week ago. I’m waiting. My patience is running low.”

“I’d rather not.” She slams the door on my face. Fuck. I strum the guitar again because I have to talk to her. Convince her that I’d do anything to fix whatever I had done wrong. “Ugh, shut up.”

“You went back in,” I sing.

“You saw me, I’m a freak,” her annoying tone is making me rethink what I’m doing. Maybe I should back off and come back tomorrow. “I won’t come out of my room for the rest of my life.”

Shit, she went from Christmas to forever. “That’s a long time.” I lighten up the conversation with a forced laugh.

“Well, I’ll wait until you head for college. Whatever happens first.”

College? That’s a long time from now. “Why are you a freak, exactly?”

“Because I’m hideous,” she mumbles through the door.

“No, you’re beautiful and you have the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen and you have to come out before I die of boredom,” I strum the guitar singing those lines.

Nothing I say brings her out. I set my guitar down and decide to show her the freaky scar that I have. Knocking on her door, I call her. “Check this out.” As I pull my shirt off, I point to the scar I got when I was four. I draw a line from my clavicle to my stomach. The pink scar doesn’t look as threatening as it did when I was younger, but it still freaked people out. Except AJ who accepts me no matter what. “This doesn’t make me a freak; it makes me, well, me.”

She opens the door and approaches me, we’re so close that I could hug her, but I refrain from doing that. She’s too young and her parents might kick me out if I act out of impulse. But I want to hug her so badly.

“You were my last friend,” she murmurs, her eyes settling on my clavicle.

“I’m not anymore?” My stomach drops and fear begins to eat my heart. “Is it because of my scar?”

“No, of course not.”

Relief washes over me and I come even closer to her. “Then we’re friends forever, to me, you’ll always be the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Her gaze lifts and the biggest, most amazing smile is shining just for me. A voice inside my head whispers:
This girl is mine. She’ll always be mine.

T
here’s a lot of ground that I have to cover before I turn eighteen. As of today, and after two years of applying myself on a daily basis, I’m at a ninth grade reading level. A freshman in high school. According to my tutors and my foster parents, that’s a great accomplishment. When they tested me two years ago, I had a reading level of a first grader. Today I’m capable of reading any book, and of course, I have audiobooks and a laptop to help me with my assignments.

All the tools they gave me are part of a bigger plan to help me become a productive member of society. The Deckers want me to have a college degree before I have a music career. A backup plan, in case things don’t turn out the way I want. It’ll be complicated to explain to them that backups aren’t necessary when it comes to my future. In no way will I let myself fail. Once I reach for the stars, I’ll stay up there in the sky. That’s the only way I can be close to AJ. She’s the sun. The one who illuminates my days. In order to care for her the way she deserves, I have to work hard. At least be as famous as her parents are.

“Hey, it’s midnight,” I hear her raspy voice before I see her enter the music room. “Why are you up so late?” AJ’s long hair is tied up into a messy bun and she’s only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

“Why are you up so late?” I ask straightening the music sheets I’m trying to read. Reading music is the hardest part of being a musician. Two years ago I didn’t see the point of their existence, now I understand that to make my compositions permanent, I have to write them down. Also, to play a classic piece, I have to memorize the sheets. According to Chris Decker, playing by ear is a great ability, but an accomplished musician can do both. “Your parents hate when you go to sleep so late.”

She shrugs.

“What happened?”

“Gabe.” She scrunches her nose. Uh-oh. “He’s leaving for a couple of weeks. I heard them . . . his publicist found a new girlfriend for him.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She shakes her head, turning around and walking away. That’s my cue to follow. “AJ, you know that’s how they have to do things, don’t you?”

“What if one day he falls in love with the girl and leaves us?” She sniffs, walking toward the back door. When she arrives at the swings, she sits on the tire swing and stares at the stars. “Aren’t we enough for him?”

I can’t answer her question, because I don’t understand much about who my foster parents are or why they behave the way they do. They’re a gay couple with three children who live in a secluded area. No one knows about their marriage to each other, or that AJ, MJ, and JC exist—other than family and friends. They hide from the public and, according to AJ, they hide a lot of shit from their children too. All these fucked up shit hurts AJ, but her parents don’t give a damn about it.

“You’re enough for me,” I say, sitting on the swing next to her. “They are your parents, I get it, but you have to grow immune to what they do. Celebrities never have long-steady relationships. I wouldn’t be surprised if they split one day.”

The sound of her crying intensifies with the stupid shit I just told her. I’m fucking bad at this shit. For a moment, I think about heading back to the music room. A girl is crying next to me because I said the wrong thing. How do I fix it? With a lie? I mean, how many Hollywood couples marry and stay together? Not many. My foster parents have been together for maybe eighteen or twenty years. If AJ hadn’t been sheltered for so long, she’d understand the dynamic and the shit her parents do wouldn’t hurt her as much.