True (Page 4)

True (True Believers #1)(4)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“So you want, like, romance?”

Was that what we called it? “I guess.”

Tyler came back into the room, pushing his cell phone into his front pocket. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” I found my crossbody bag on the floor and put it over my head.

“Tyler, Rory wants romance,” Jessica told him. “What do you think of that?”

My face burned with embarrassment. I didn’t want to be the subject of discussion. I didn’t want Tyler to stare at me the way he was, dark eyes scrutinizing mine. He was the typical bad-boy type—which was why Jessica liked him—and I was the kind of girl he would never notice. And he hadn’t ever noticed me, not really. I was the quiet friend of Jessica and Kylie whose presence he tolerated. But now his eyes were sweeping over me, assessing, and I couldn’t read his expression.

“I think she should have whatever she wants.” He reached out and took the beer can from my hand, his fingers brushing mine. “But nothing says romance like a six-pack. I need to pick up more beer.”

I shivered from his touch and from the inscrutable look he was giving me.

“I’m staying here,” Jessica stated. “It’s too cold outside to go home. See you tomorrow, Rory.”

Kylie was already curled up on the couch, in a praying position, half-asleep as she gave a weak wave. “Bye, sweetie.”

“Okay, bye,” I said, shoving my hands in the front pockets of my jeans, wishing I had worn a thicker coat. I was cold and I wanted a hot shower to wash away the beer and the fear and the feel of Grant’s wet lips on me. But first I had to sit in the car alone with Tyler. A perfect ending to a crap night. Awkward small talk with my roommate’s Friend with Benefits, who had punched his own friend on my behalf.

As I followed Tyler down the metal stairs, the smell of fried foods strong in the hallway, I thought that was the end of any talk about my virginity.

I didn’t know it was just the beginning.

Chapter Two

Nathan’s apartment was on McMicken Street, off-street parking only. Tyler’s car was a rusted-out sedan, at least twenty years old, with a maroon door that stood out in stark contrast against the car’s white body.

“It’s unlocked,” he told me as he stepped into the street.

So I pried open the passenger side and climbed in, shivering, crossing my arms over my chest. I checked for a seat belt, but there didn’t seem to be one, and so I just sat there, stiff, my rain boots shuffling through a pile of discarded fast-food bags and Coke cans. I didn’t know what to say to Tyler. I wanted to thank him for rescuing me. Because that’s what he had done. I wasn’t sure I could have gotten away from Grant on my own.

I forced myself to glance at him, but he was just looking back over his shoulder as he pulled out of the spot. He had a strong jaw and a little bump in the center of his nose that I had never noticed before. With his sweatshirt swallowing him, and in profile, somehow he looked younger, less intimidating than when his tattoos were on full display, and his dark eyes were staring at me. It gave me the courage to say, “Thanks.”

My voice came out like a hoarse whisper and I cleared my throat, embarrassed.

“No problem,” he said. “You can’t walk through this neighborhood by yourself at night. This f**king hill alone would kill you if the ghetto rats didn’t.”

Whether or not Straight Street got its name from the fact that it was virtually a ninety-degree incline or not, I didn’t know. It was definitely unwalkable, even during the day. But I wasn’t talking about his giving me a ride, though I was grateful for that. “Yeah, but thanks for . . . Grant.” I didn’t want to get more specific than that.

He turned now, and I was sorry he did when he gave me a look that I couldn’t read. “Sure. If you find yourself in that situation again, punch him in the nuts. But you can do better than Grant, trust me.”

“Yeah.” I wasn’t sure if it were true or not, but I did know that I would much rather be alone than have those wet, narrow lips anywhere on me, and that demanding grip on my arm, the back of my head.

“I mean, you’ve waited this long to have sex, you shouldn’t waste your virginity on an Oxy junkie.”

So he had heard me talking to Jessica and Kylie. I gripped my purse tighter in my lap, that churning sensation in my stomach starting again. The car was heaving and bucking as it struggled to make it up the steep hill, and the engine whined as Tyler gave it more gas. The street was empty, most of the houses darkened because it was after two, and I suddenly felt as trapped in the car as I had in the apartment. I didn’t want to talk about this with Tyler. Or anyone.

“Oxy?” I asked, to buy time. Dodge and weave when the subject was uncomfortable. But I’d never been particularly good at dodging anything. I was the girl in grade school gym who didn’t move fast enough and took a rubber ball in the nose.

“OxyContin. Grant likes to snort it. When he can’t get his hands on any for a while, he gets a little edgy. I told Nathan he shouldn’t let him come around anymore, but Nathan is loyal.”

So Grant did drugs. I guess I wasn’t surprised, not really. He had the requisite dysfunctional family, the nervous twitch. It made sense. I was disappointed, though, because it meant that I had inaccurately assessed Grant. I had seen him as a male version of myself, quiet from a lack of social skills, nervous. But it wasn’t that at all, and I had projected what I wanted onto him.

The thought made me want to cry again.

“So you’re not?” I said, then immediately regretted it. It sounded almost accusatory, when the truth was, the silence was stretching out, a long rubber band that snapped with my unintentionally harsh words.

“Not when you’re doing drugs and kicking girls.”

That made sense to me.

I didn’t really know Tyler at all, other than he was Jessica and Kylie’s party buddy, and on occasion, he and Jessica hooked up. He almost never came to our dorm room, and I had only been around him a few times at parties and at the apartment. We didn’t share any classes, and he’d never made much of an effort to talk to me.

But suddenly I liked him a whole lot better.

Unsure what to say, as usual, I tucked my hair behind my ear, but I was spared from having to answer by his phone ringing. He glanced at the screen and swore.

“Yeah?” he said, after tapping the screen, turning the steering wheel with his left elbow, heading toward campus.