Little Hoodlum (Hood River Hoodlums Book 2) Page 13

  “Looking for this?” I ask, lowering the box in front of her.

  She jerks it from my hand and slams it down on the countertop. As she starts to step away, I slide an arm around her waist and indulge in inhaling her sweet scent.

  “Can we talk?” I murmur.

  “What’s there to say?”

  “Well, for starters, I’m sorry I made you angry.”

  “It is what it is.”

  Gripping her hips, I turn her around to face me. Hurt shines from behind the lenses of her glasses in her coppery eyes that won’t exactly meet mine.

  “Roux, I’m sorry.” I lean forward and kiss her forehead. “Please look at me.”

  This stubborn girl refuses.

  Gently, I grip her jaw, tilting her head up. Anger chases away the hurt as she glowers at me. So fucking cute. I rub my thumb over her lip.

  “You make my life difficult,” I rumble. “You know that?”

  She scoffs. “Likewise, buddy.”

  Without thinking, I drop down and press a kiss to her lips. It’s as natural as breathing. Her fury has melted away as she smiles prettily at me.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I murmur. “It’s hard not to do the things I really want to do to you right now.”

  She shivers, biting on her plump bottom lip. “As much as I want those things with you, I can wait for them. Waiting for you will never be the problem, Jordy.”

  “But?”

  “But you shutting me out is a huge problem.” Her eyes shine with unshed emotion. “I won’t let you tear my heart out again.”

  Guilt slams into me. “Roux…”

  “No,” she whispers. “You want me. Us. Then you need to let me in. I’m not your best friend’s little sister that you’re bound to protect by some bro code. I’m yours. But I won’t be halfway yours. And shutting me out with whatever is going on with you is only allowing parts of me in. I deserve to be more than a sliver in your life.”

  Fuck.

  When the fuck did Little Hoodlum grow up into this gorgeous, intelligent, mouthy woman?

  “Roux,” I murmur.

  Her amber eyes turn hard. “What did Samantha want? What did she say?” The challenge gleams in her eyes. There’s only one answer here. The truth. And if I don’t give it to her, she’s going to hate me.

  “Let me take you to school,” I murmur, ignoring the question.

  She untangles herself from my arms and storms away from me, sucking the warm air along with her, leaving me cold and empty. “What did she say, Jordy?”

  “Baby,” I rasp out, reaching for her. Aching for her. Needing her.

  A tear streaks down her cheek and she shakes her head. “I’m not your baby. I’m nothing to you until you let me in.”

  She waits for what feels like an eternity, when in reality it’s only a minute or so.

  “I want to let you in,” I murmur, “but—”

  “It’s not safe,” she interrupts. “Heard you loud and clear. Goodbye, Jordy.”

  With those words, she leaves me alone. The finality in her words is gutting.

  Roux

  The class looks at me, sniggering, as I carry in Kayden’s newest gift. A small bouquet of carnations. Navy blue. How he even got flowers in my favorite color is a mystery. I’ll admit, Kayden has been going through great lengths all week trying to win me back. And if this were one of my romance novels, I’d think the gestures were sweet and swoonworthy.

  In the books, though, the guy trying to win the girl back isn’t a wannabe gangster.

  She’s also not hopelessly in love with someone else.

  So, as sweet as his gifts are, I can’t ever be the girl Kayden wants me to be. We were always better as friends. I set the bouquet on the edge of my desk and sit down for my last class of the day. My eyes drift to where Charlotte’s desk is.

  What’s happened to her?

  She’s no longer the beautiful, confident, vibrant girl.

  Ryan has destroyed all the good parts of her.

  In her place is this shell of my best friend. Her once golden blond hair hangs in limp, almost greasy waves over her shoulders. Dark circles that almost look like bruises are a common look under her dead eyes these days. She normally glows, but lately she’s pasty white. Skinnier than usual. Shaky. I don’t know how to help her and it kills me.

  I try to make eye contact with her, but she’s purposefully looking anywhere but at me. Eventually, she yawns and lays her head down on the desk.

  As Wes enters the classroom and starts distributing the test, I think about Jordy. All week, ever since I gave him an opportunity to come clean to me and he didn’t, I’ve avoided him. It’s difficult since he lives with us, but I manage.

  Jordy is the most stubborn man I know. That’s saying a lot because Roan is really stubborn too. But Jordy would rather go to prison than give in. It scares me to death. I absolutely can’t lose him again. Three years was three too many.

  As Wes nears, he winks at me, sets the test down on my desk, and continues walking. He told me he’d give me the written test along with everyone else, but that he’d officially grade me on the verbal one after class. To sort of use it as a study guide until then and as a way not to have attention brought on myself for not taking the test along with everyone else. I appreciate that he’s looking out for me and not giving the other kids ammo to ridicule me over.

  Rather than looking over the test, I glance back at Charlotte. She’s sleeping. Not taking her test. This isn’t her. She’s the girl who wants to be a doctor. Who aces everything. I hate Ryan for this.

  The class is over all too quickly. Wes frowns when he collects Charlotte’s test, shaking his head. She didn’t even write her name on it. Dread consumes me. She doesn’t seem upset as she stands when the bell rings. Quickly, she grabs her bag and bolts. I stare after her, hating that I don’t have my best friend at my side.

  The door closes with a soft click and Wes gives me a sad smile.

  “Are you okay?”

  Tears well in my eyes and I blink several times to make them go away. “Yep.”

  “I’m not blind, Roux,” he says, sitting in his desk chair and rolling it over to me. “Is it your friend? I couldn’t help but notice you staring at her the whole hour.”

  A tear leaks out and I swipe at it. “I’m just worried about her.”

  “I’ll talk to her about retaking her test,” he says. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

  “It’s not an off day, though,” I whisper, hating that I’m about to unload my woes to my teacher. “Ever since she started dating this guy, she’s not been herself. He’s toxic.” My chin wobbles. “I miss my best friend.”

  He reaches forward and gives my thigh an affectionate squeeze. “I’m sure it’s just a phase.” His smile is gentle. “She’ll need you whenever she gets past that phase.”

  Wes removes his hand from my leg but remains so near I can feel his body heat. The close proximity makes me slightly uncomfortable. I know he’s just being nice, though. I’m making more out of it than it really is.

  “Ready to take the test?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  His eyes lock on mine as he asks the first question. My cheeks heat at his intense attention on me. All of my answers come out breathless and shaky. Rather than being annoyed with me or making fun of me, he simply smiles. Playfully nudges me with his knee when I stammer.

  “Relax, Roux,” he says. “You’re done.”

  A rush of air escapes me. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He grins wide and boyish. “You aced it.”

  “Really?” I don’t ace tests. I usually barely skim by with Cs. “No way.”

  He laughs. “Yes way. I’m so proud of you.”

  His praise means a lot and I can’t help but smile back. Roan is going to be so happy when I tell him.

  “Thank you,” I tell him. “You have no idea how good it feels to actually make an A on something.”

  “Some students just need
a different approach,” he affirms. “We’ve found yours. Don’t worry. I’m on your side. You’ll get through my class with an A.”

  I glance at the clock. I’d told Hollis I’d be late after school since I was having to take my test. I’m to text him when I finish.

  “I should get going.” I start to stand, and Wes rolls back in his chair. He seems nervous. “Are you okay?”

  He rubs at the back of his neck, a shy smile playing at his lips. “This is going to sound stupid.”

  “What?”

  “You were probably just saying it to be nice, but I really do value your opinion on my poem book. I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to grab coffee after we leave here and look at it.” He barks out an anxious laugh. “You can say no. I know it’s weird. I’m your teacher.”

  “No, I want to,” I rush out. “Let me just text my brother-in-law that I’ll catch a ride home.”

  Wes grins. “I can run you by your place after.”

  It’s a little awkward that my teacher and I are going out for coffee, but I try not to read too much into it. He’s not much older than Roan and Jordy, so it’s not like it’s gross or anything. And I’m not interested in him that way. Not that I think he’s even remotely attracted to me. It’s fine. Might be strange to others, but I really do want to read his poem book.

  Wes rolls his chair back over to his desk and gathers up his things. I pack up my own stuff and pick up my flowers.

  “Who’s the lucky guy?” he asks as he comes to stand beside me, car keys in hand. “The guy who was waiting for you last week?”

  “Yeah, that’s my ex. We broke up, but he really wants to get back together.”

  “Teenage boys are dumb,” he agrees. “I remember being that age. Not realizing something good when I had it in my grasp.”

  His comment makes me squirm.

  “I love these flowers, but I’m not taking him back.” I’m in love with someone else. “He’s persistent, though.”

  “I can see why.” He flashes me a flirty grin.

  I laugh away his comment and wonder if maybe I’m making a bad decision going to have coffee with Wes.

  But what’s the alternative?

  Go home and sulk because my best friend hates me? Cry into my pillow because Jordy won’t let me in?

  It’s just coffee and poetry.

  Wes and I walk to the staff parking lot. He drives a white Jeep. It’s the only car left in the lot at almost four in the afternoon on a Friday.

  “The handle is funky,” he tells me, rushing ahead to open the passenger side door. “There you go.”

  I blush furiously at his gentlemanly gesture. “Thanks.”

  He shuts the door. I set the flowers and backpack on the floorboard, but keep my purse clutched in my lap before pulling on my seat belt. After he deposits his bag in the back seat, he settles in the front seat. He unknots his tie and yanks it off, shoving it into the cup holder.

  “Been waiting to do that all day,” he says with a chuckle as he grabs a pair of sunglasses from the dash, swapping out his glasses for them. “Worst part of teaching is wearing a tie.”

  “Does Ms. Frazier enforce a dress code on you guys too?”

  He groans. “I think it’s punishment for all those years I gave her hell. Back before she was a principal and taught Algebra. I fucking hate math.”

  Like a typical guy, he drives like a bat out of hell out of the parking lot. In this moment, he reminds me of a Hoodlum. Older, rebellious, fun. I relax because I’m a Hoodlum too.

  We drive past all the familiar haunts. No Starbucks or Panera for us.

  “Hood River’s coffee sucks,” he reveals when he notices my confused face. “Rockford has a place called Josie’s. It’s technically a bookstore, but the complimentary coffee’s great. I stumbled across it while hunting for a poetry book for class. You’ll love this place.”

  He takes us to the next town over and to the small Main Street there. We park in front of a tiny bookstore.

  “The door. I’ll get it,” he says, reaching across me to grab the handle. “Gets stuck all the time.” His arm brushes across my breasts and I turn a million shades of red.

  The door gets flung open and he climbs out. While he fishes something out of his bag in the back seat, I suck in a few breaths of air. Don’t be so awkward, Roux! I get out and shut the door before following him up the steps.

  The bookstore is empty and smells old. It’s cram-packed with books. I love it. He walks over to a self-serve coffee area. While he sets to making two coffees, I browse the store. An old woman sits behind the counter, her nose in a book. She doesn’t bother to greet us, which is fine by me.

  “Here,” Wes says, handing me a mug of coffee. “I’ll show you the best spot.”

  I follow him into another room. Behind a tall bookshelf is a love seat facing a window at the back of the building that overlooks a greenbelt of trees. He sets his coffee down on the table in front and plops down. I sit beside him and sip my coffee.

  “Don’t look so nervous,” he says, smiling. “I’m the nervous one. What if you hate my poetry book?”

  “I doubt that,” I say with a laugh.

  He angles his body to face me, leaning an elbow on the back of the love seat. “You haven’t read it yet.” He sets an iPad down in my lap. “This is nerve-wracking.”

  His own nervousness surprisingly helps settle mine.

  “I’ll be gentle,” I assure him. “Let’s see if you’re as good as Atticus.”

  “Maybe I am Atticus,” he says with an impish grin. “Has anyone ever seen his face?”

  I swat at him before settling in to read his book. From the first poem, I grow absorbed in his raw words that seem to bleed onto the page. As I read, I manage to gulp down my whole cup of coffee. He disappears to make more, this time returning with a plate of cookies too.

  “These poems are really good. Really good, Wes.”

  He sighs heavily. “Really? God, you scared me. You’re so quiet.”

  “I’m obsessed with these. They’re all so unfiltered. Like you get a glimpse into the writer’s soul.” My cheeks heat. “Your soul.”

  His smile widens. “You’ve made my day. I’ve been reluctant to let anyone read them.”

  “You need to publish this book and let everyone read them. They’re seriously that good.”

  I kick off my shoes and pull my legs up under me, relaxing as I read. A particular poem called The Broken One reminds me of Jordy. I read over it three times, hating how my heart hurts.

  Why must everything be so complicated?

  I want Jordy and Jordy wants me.

  Simple.

  “We’ll be closing soon, kids,” a woman says, making me jolt.

  I can no longer see the greenbelt outside. Just my reflection in the dark window. And Wes’s. He’s staring at me as I read. Slowly, I glance over at him.

  “You have a lot of poems,” I murmur. “Sorry I lost track of time.”

  He chuckles, patting my foot. “I thought I wanted feedback, but you getting absorbed and ignoring the world gives me all the feedback I need.”

  “I could keep reading these, but I should get back home.” I dig through my purse and pull out my phone. Since it was on silent from being at school, I completely missed a bunch of texts from Hollis and Roan. A few calls too. My phone buzzes in my hand with a text.

  Roan: You better be dead, because if you’re ignoring me on purpose, I’m going to kill you.

  Crap.

  Me: Sorry! Was studying and lost track of time.

  My phone rings immediately and I can’t ignore it.

  “Hey,” I squeak out.

  “Don’t hey me, Roux. Where the hell are you?” Roan demands, his voice taking on that fatherly quality when he tries to be the boss of me.

  “I told you,” I grumble. “Studying.”

  “With who? Where are you?”

  “A friend.” Not a lie. “In Rockford.”

  A beat of silence.

 
“Get home.”

  “On my way.”

  I hang up and glance over at Wes. Guilt swims in his eyes. It’s not his fault my brother can be an overbearing dick.

  “Sorry, but I have to go now.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “Maybe we can do this again sometime soon.”

  “I’d love that.” He takes my phone from my hand, his long fingers brushing over mine. “Here’s my number. Text me later and I’ll send you some other poems I wrote.”

  Okay, then.

  My teacher just gave me his number.

  Not weird. Not weird at all.

  Except he’s looking at me like a guy looks at a girl when he likes her. Maybe this whole coffee and poetry thing was a bad idea.

  “I know I’m your teacher,” Wes says as though reading my mind, “but I’m just like your brother. Not some creep. I know you’re going through some stuff with your friend. If you need someone to talk to about it, I’m a great listener. It’s the least I could do for you putting up with my forcing you to read my poetry book.”

  We both laugh.

  I’m lacking in the friends department at the moment. It’s kind of nice having someone to talk to and they’re not shutting you out. Charlotte, Kayden, and Jordy have all pushed me away in some capacity.

  We gather our stuff and Wes guides me out to his Jeep, his palm on my lower back. I shiver at the touch but try not to read too much into it. He’s just a nice guy. I wait for him to open the car door for me and then climb inside.

  On the drive home, Wes prattles on about how he’s going to try and get his poetry book published. I completely agree with him. If a publisher were to pick him up, he could be every bit as popular as Atticus. Before we know it, we’re arriving at my place. He parks and gives me a sad smile.

  “I had fun. As inappropriate as it probably was. If you won’t tell, I won’t tell.” He laughs and makes a playful motion of zipping his lips.