CHAPTER Fifteen
“You okay?” I asked in a small voice.
Nixon nodded. “I’m good.” Blood was crusted across his knuckles. I wondered if it hurt. With a curse he handed me his jacket and took off his tight fitting Henley, revealing a tight black sleeveless shirt underneath.
Using the shirt he discarded he wiped off his hands and put on his jacket.
“So…” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say thank you or what the hell were you thinking.”
He shrugged. “They had it coming. Tim should never have listened to Phoenix, and Phoenix should have stayed the hell away from you. He had rules and he didn’t follow them.”
“There we go with the whole rules thing again,” I mumbled.
“Rules make the world go round.” Nixon laughed and then put his arm around me. “The rumors should die down now, okay?”
“Yeah, but aren’t people going to talk about this? And why was the dean so chill? I mean, he’s like twice your age.”
Nixon shrugged. “We have an understanding.”
“Right.” I nodded. “What type of understanding? He follows your rules or you shoot him in the face?”
Nixon laughed again. “Wow, thanks I needed that.” His eyes glistened in the moonlight. “Is that what people do on TV, shoot people in the face?”
“Yes, well. No. I guess. I don’t know.” I sighed. “What are you? Some sort of gangster or something?”
“Sure.” His fingers moved to the back of my neck caressing the skin just below my hairline. “Let's go with that. I’m a gangster.”
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Have you?” he fired back as if offended I would even ask.
Well, that shut me up. His hand moved to my cheek sending shivers down my spine. “It's not fair,” I said breathlessly.
“What?” His eyes were on my lips.
“That you can touch me, but I can’t touch you.” That you look like a god and I look like a poor farm girl. I sighed and stepped away from him.
He tilted his head to the side. “Would you rather I not touch you?”
“No!” I blurted. Then covered my face with my hands.
He chuckled and pulled me into his body so my head rested against his chest. “I just don’t understand. What’s so different? I mean we’re touching now, but…”
“I’m in control of it.” He exhaled and tilted my chin toward his. “I know it sounds crazy. I just… I don’t like it when people touch me without permission. Ever since I was a kid, after—” He swallowed. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. It’s just this thing I have.”
“Like the rules?” I whispered.
“Yeah, like the rules.” His thumb grazed my lower lip. “You’re beautiful, you know.”
I laughed awkwardly and tried to tilt my chin down but he wouldn’t let me. Why I was letting the guy who put the fear of God into the dean touch my face, I don’t know. But… there was something about him. Something that made me want to touch him, made me crave his touch, and I hated that I responded to him, especially after the way he treated me at first.
“Don’t,” he whispered against my cheek as he bent his lips to my ear. “Don’t pull away from me, please.”
“Okay.” My voice was shaky and wobbly and my heart sounded like I’d just run a marathon. Breathe. I just needed to breathe.
His lips found my neck and I let out an involuntary gasp.
“So sensitive,” he murmured as his tongue wet his lips and then drew a design just below my ear. “So damn sensitive. Your skin’s so soft right here.”
I shivered as his mouth met my jaw. His hands moved to clench my hair, forcing me closer. “Nixon.” My voice was weak. “What are you doing?”
His lips met mine. The kiss was brief. He sighed. “I wish I knew.”
“You can’t just…” I swallowed. “You can’t just go around kissing people you hate.”
“Who said I hate you?” He released my head and stepped back.
“Well, you weren’t exactly shaking my hand and shouting my name a few days ago.”
Nixon licked his lips. His hooded eyes blazed a hot trail across my body until I thought I might die from wanting him right then and there. “So you want me to shout your name? Is that what this is about?”
Laughing, I pushed him away. “Stop being such a guy. I’m serious.”
“Oh, believe me…” He ran his hand along my shoulder and down my collarbone until his fingers brushed the first few buttons of my shirt. I had no doubt in my mind that the guy probably had an A+ in stripping women of their clothes with one hand. “I’m dead serious.”
I swallowed the nervous laughter bubbling up within me and stepped out of his reach. “So gangster, you gonna tell me why you’ve taken personal interest in running this school?”
Taking the hint, he shoved his hands in his pockets and fell into step beside me. “I like things to be fair.”
“Wow, then you’re at the wrong school for that.”
“You know what I mean. I do what I can when I can. Besides, it’s kind of one of my jobs, to keep the peace around here, keep the secrets, keep everyone happy. It’s exhausting actually.”
“I have a hard time imagining anyone making you do anything.”
He laughed bitterly. “Then clearly you haven’t met my dad.”
I stopped walking and pulled his hand. “What do you mean? Is he… is he bad?”
Nixon sighed. “Well, he’s no Mickey Mouse or Santa Claus if that’s what you’re asking.” He bit his lip and opened his mouth as if he was going to say more. Instead he grunted and grabbed my hand. “Doesn’t matter. Anyways, I was going to ask you earlier but then I got distracted by all your drug money…”
I rolled my eyes.
“Does the name Alfero mean anything to you?”
“Alfero?” I repeated. “Hmm…as in Alfredo without the D?”
“Yes. As in the food.” He glanced at my necklace and sighed. “It’s on the back of your necklace.”
“So?”
“So…” He nodded his head. “You know it’s okay for you to tell me. I won’t say anything. I mean, I know I’m an Abandonato, but it’s not like, you know, I’ll set Jimmy on your or anything.”
I burst out laughing. “Are you high?”
His eyes narrowed. “No.”
“Wow, then you have to know I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t?”
“Nope.”
“Good.” He sighed, and kicked the ground. “That’s, wow… that’s really, really good.”
“I think you must have lost more blood than you realize in that fight.” I nudged him with my elbow.
He laughed. “At least I can say I’d freaking bleed for you, if that’s what it took.”
“Took?”
He stopped and reached out to touch my chin, lifting my face toward his. “To keep you safe.”
“So you’d die for me?” I joked trying to break the awkwardness.
“Don’t you get it?”
My breathing became erratic as he leaned close enough to kiss me again. “I’d give my life for yours.”
“Why? You don’t even know me.”
His eyes closed, and when he opened them all I saw was pain and regret. “You have no idea what I know, and believe me when I say, your life is worth a hell of a lot more than mine. And yes, after tonight, you better believe I know you better than anyone, even better than you know yourself, and I hope to God it stays that way, Trace.”
Just as I was about to open my mouth to ask more questions, because basically that’s all I had ever since coming to this school, headlights were on us. The dorm was in front of us, and the road was suddenly blocked by a few expensive-looking cars.
Of course they were all black.
Did no one believe in color around here?
“Trace, go inside.”
“But…”
Nixon gripped my arm and turned me toward him. “Trace, I need you to listen to me right now. You take this.” He handed me his black key card. “You don’t walk. You run until your legs burn. You run into the building, you run into the elevator, you run down the damn hall, and you lock your door until I come and get you. Do you understand?”
Freaked out, all I could do was nod. Nixon gripped my hand closed over the key card and whispered it again. “Run.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I ran like hell. And as I ran all I could think of was why I wasn’t safe in my own school? And how did those cars get in if they were bad?
I swiped the card and ran into the dorm. Once I was inside the elevator I looked up and saw twelve guys in suits walking toward the dorm. As the doors to the elevator closed, I could have sworn I saw Grandpa.
God, I missed him. That’s why I was freaking out.
The elevator dinged and I ran to the room and locked the door behind me. Monroe was already on the bed.
“What the hell, Trace? You got murderers on your tail?”
I shook my head and gasped for breath. “I don’t know. I just… Nixon told me to run, so I ran. And he got into a fight with Phoenix and Tim and—”
“It’s fine,” Monroe said quickly. “You saw the fight?”
I nodded.
“Then you know Nixon can take care of himself, right?”
I nodded again.
“Great, now let’s watch a movie.”
“What!” I yelled. “I can’t just watch a movie while your brother could be getting murdered!”
Monroe burst out laughing. “Believe me when I say nobody would be stupid enough to murder my brother.”
“Are you insane? I—” My phone started ringing. Well, at least it was working. I’d had my doubts after the sugar water incident. I looked at the caller ID. Oh, good. “Hi, Grandpa!” I practically shouted into the phone.
He chuckled on the other end. “Sweet pea, how was your first week of school?”
“Oh… you know. Um, boring,” I lied.
“They treating you nice up there at that fancy school?”
Immediately, I relaxed. I missed him so much. I was so freaked out, but if I told him what had happened he’d probably come up here with his shot gun and sit outside my dorm room. He and Nixon had that in common. “Yup, everyone’s super nice.”
“Oh, honey, I knew it. I’m so glad.”
It was silent for a while and then he added. “Trace? Did you open your grandma’s box?”
I sighed happily. “Yes, sir! I haven’t looked at everything, but I wore the necklace today!”
“Aw, that does my heart proud! She loved that necklace, Trace.”
I was itching to ask him more about it, but my caller ID lit up. “Hey, Gramps, can I call you back?”
“Oh no, don’t worry about me, Trace. I gotta go do the night feeding for the cows. You stay out of trouble, okay?”
“Okay! I love you!”
“Trace, I love you more. Goodnight, sweet pea.”
“Night!”
I switched lines. “Hello?”
All I could hear was creepy breathing on the end. Awesome. And my night was complete. I quickly pressed end and threw my phone against the bed.
“You okay?” Monroe asked. “How’s the grandpa? Hmm, why don’t we watch The Proposal or something?”
“No.” I waved my hand in the air. “To all of that.” With a grunt I plopped onto my bed and groaned.
“Hey.” The bed dipped as Monroe came and sat next to me. “It’s fine, I promise. Nixon is… Nixon is. Well, that’s the thing. He’s Nixon. I’m sure he had a good reason for sending you in here and freaking the crap out of you, but let’s not forget how protective brother bear is.”
“Right.” I shivered, not because of fear, but because I hardly think Nixon and I had a brother bear relationship. And if that’s how he would categorize it, then I had a hell of a lot more problems than men in suits and creepy phone calls.
A knock sounded at the door. I flung off the bed. Almost tripping over the blankets, I reached for the door and opened it.
Nixon was leaning against the frame and looking at his cell phone. Without thinking, I pulled him into my arms and hugged him. There go all the rules about no touching or breathing the same air. But I was so freaked out and…
Holy crap, he was like a warm statue and then his arms very slowly wrapped around me.
I was pretty sure, in that moment, that Nixon’s arms were my favorite place to be in the world. Bliss didn’t last all too long. The second I realized he had no bumps or bruises and was texting, yes texting, before I hugged him.
With a shriek I pulled back and smacked him on the chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”
He grinned. “You sure do run fast, Farm Girl. They teach you that in Wyoming?” With a slow wink he walked around me and gave his sister a brief hug.
“Something’s very wrong with you.” I slammed the door and crossed my arms.
“Don’t I know it,” Monroe muttered. “And what the hell, Nixon? You can’t just go scaring my roommate like that. I thought she was going to have a heart attack and tell her grandpa she was witness to your murder.”
“Believe me, her grandpa would not have come to my rescue.” Nixon snorted.
“Hey!” I pointed. “You don’t even know him! He’s a good guy.”
“Did I say he was bad?” Nixon held up his hands in offense. “I just said he wouldn’t come to my rescue.”
“If I asked him to he would,” I argued.
Nixon laughed. “Your innocence is both aggravating and shocking.”
Clenching my fists, I fought the urge to stomp my foot and glared at Monroe. He was her brother. I refused to keep dealing with his mood swings.
“We should watch a movie,” Nixon said after I sat on the bed like a normal human instead of stomping around the room like Godzilla.
“She doesn’t want to,” Monroe said pointing in my direction. Yes, because I’m the one who is not being reasonable right now.
“Who were those guys?” I asked.
Nixon ignored me. “She saw me beat the crap out of two dudes tonight. She should watch something funny.”
Monroe nodded. “A chick flick and maybe some chocolate?”
“Hello!” I waved my hands in the air. “I’m right here.”
Nixon waved back. Bastard. Monroe had yet to look up from the movie selection.
“Nixon.” I hissed his name. “Who were those guys and why did I have to run?”
“Guys from work.” Nixon shrugged. “They just had a few questions about what went down tonight. I just didn’t want you to stay if things got weird and the less people that they know who know about what happened, the better.”
Damn. That did sound convincing. But work? What college student had grown men working for him? It again begged the question, just how old was he? And what type of business… ugh. My brain hurt. “Fine, we’ll watch the stupid movie,” I grumbled.
“Excellent.” Monroe threw the movie at Nixon, who in turn popped it into the computer. He sighed and laid his head on my pillow.
Angry, I jerked the pillow from underneath him and beat him on the head with it.
“What the hell was that for?”
“It slipped.” I shrugged innocently.
“Slipped my ass…”
“Children!” Monroe sang. “Behave or I’m not going to give you snacks.”
“She started it—”
“Nixon Anthony—”
I pinched him and laughed. “She totally middle-named you just now.”
“Trace…” There was a warning edge to her voice, so I shut up and sat as far away from Nixon’s body heat as I could. But it was near impossible, especially when Chase and Tex showed up halfway through the movie. According to Chase, his back hurt when he didn’t have a bed to sit on. Screwy logic, so I let him sit toward the bottom with his back against the wall. My feet would have been touching him, but I sat up. The minute I sat up, Nixon sat up. The minute he sat up, I dipped toward him.
And that was how I ended up falling asleep with my face on his shoulder. At least that’s what I told myself when I woke up at three A.M. to Nixon staring at me like a monster in a horror movie.
“Are you trying to give me nightmares?” I whispered grumpily.
“No.” His voice was hoarse. His arm shot out, and before I could stop him, he had somehow flipped me around so he was spooning me. His hand ran up and down my arm, tracing circles and massaging every inch of exposed skin.
I snuggled back into him further, trying to get comfortable.
He groaned low in his throat. “So not helping, Trace.”
“Oh.”
He brushed my hair aside and kissed my neck as his right hand dipped beneath my shirt. Tiny electrical shocks hummed through my body as his warm hand rested on my bare stomach.
“Nixon—”
“Please,” he whispered in my ear. “I just want to touch you.”
I fell asleep to Nixon, Student Body President, all-around bad boy extraordinaire’s hand burning against my skin.
It was the best night I’d ever had.