Trouble from the Start Read Free Page A

There did seem to be more air here. I could hear the breeze stirring the leaves in the trees around us, feel it wafting over my skin. I turned slightly in his embrace until we were nearly facing each other. His nearness was making me dizzy. His hand came up to cradle the back of my head, and he settled my face into the crook of his shoulder. I had that same crazy faraway thought that we fit. I could hear his heart pounding—felt it thumping through his chest, sending tiny little shivers over my face.
    â€œDon’t drink if you can’t handle your liquor,” he said, his voice low enough that it didn’t disturb the chirpingcrickets. “There is always some guy willing to take advantage.”
    â€œLike you?” I asked.
    â€œExactly like me.”
    I didn’t know why I had this crazy thought that if he leaned down to kiss me, I wouldn’t object. He had a reputation for being an amazing kisser. But he wasn’t leaning in. Was I really so unappealing that even a guy with no standards wouldn’t at least try? Still, I felt obligated to say, “Taking advantage of me would be stupid. My dad’s a cop. He carries a gun.”
    â€œI’m well aware.”
    I thought I heard sadness, secrets, in his voice, but that made no sense. Nothing made sense. I was having a difficult time thinking, trying to remember why I was out here at the lake with Fletcher Thomas. The world was spinning, fast, so terribly fast, from his nearness, his scent, his warmth—
    No, I realized with horror. Not from anything to do with him. From the vodka and whatever else had been mixed into the drinks. I shoved myself away from him and, to my everlasting mortification, I hurled.
    Okay, so I’d lied earlier. I was a novice at drinking. I’d had a few sips of beer at other parties, but when your dad keeps a Breathalyzer kit in his car, it’s not a good idea to come home in a state that might cause him to use it.
    A large, warm hand came to rest lightly on my back. It traveled up my spine and down.
    â€œBreathe deep.”
    â€œDeeply,” I forced out through my tingling mouth.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDeeply. Adverbs follow verbs.”
    â€œSeriously? You’re giving me a grammar lesson in the middle of your barfing?”
    With as much dignity as I could muster, I straightened. “I’m finished.”
    And horrified that I’d made such a spectacle of myself in front of him.
    â€œI’ll give you a ride home,” he said.
    Everything in me screamed, “Bad idea!”
    Or maybe I was screaming it out loud because he said, “Look, I won’t take advantage of you being drunk. Besides, your dad has a gun.”
    With a wry smile, I peered over my shoulder at him. The world wasn’t spinning as fast, but I still felt awful. I wanted to go home. I could probably find Kendall, talk her into leaving the party. Jeremy would take us to her house, and from there, I could walk past the six houses to mine. But why spoil her evening just because drinking too fast had spoiled mine?
    â€œYou’ve been drinking,” I pointed out. On second thought, so had Jeremy. I was going to have to call a cab.
    â€œI’m fine to drive.”
    Bad-boy Fletcher, not drunk? I didn’t think so. I backed up a couple of steps. “Close your eyes and walk toward me in a straight line.”
    â€œAny line I walk is going to look crooked to you, because you’re the one who’s drunk.”
    That was probably true. Maybe. I was finding it hard to think coherently. And I didn’t really want to explain arriving home in a cab. “Yeah, okay, I’d appreciate it.”
    He gave me a long look and that corner of his mouth hitched up again. “So . . . are you a novice at riding a motorcycle?”
    I considered lying, but I was past the point of thinking anything I did was going to impress him. Not that I wanted to. “It’ll be my first