Need You Tonight

FIVE





1996

Kaden Fowler sat in a shaded spot with his back against the grimy brick wall of Henley High’s recreation building, hoping to blend into it. The rest of the junior and senior class were either still inside the cafeteria eating or were gathered in small groups around the main yard, claiming their piece of concrete or grass and trying to impress each other.

Kaden never did either here—try to impress or eat. After one too many fatass and oink-oink comments in junior high, he’d learned to fill up at breakfast and then wait until dinner to eat again. Even after he’d shot up six inches over the last year and was more bulk than chub now, the jerkoffs who’d teased him then wouldn’t fail to remind him of his former fat-kid status. Once branded as such, it never went away. And if they didn’t pick on that, they’d go after his other obvious weakness—his stutter.

He pulled the latest Stephen King novel and his Walkman out of his backpack, putting the headphones over his ears, and turned to the place he’d marked in the book. But before the guitars could even kick in on Metallica’s “Until It Sleeps,” a lilting laugh cut through the music and carried his gaze up and across the yard. The minute his eyes landed on her, his stomach tightened into a fist of familiar longing.

Tessa McAllen twirled around, showing off some cheerleading move to her gaggle of friends. Her light brown hair fanned out around her, and the little spin made her skirt flit up a bit, revealing a golden swath of upper thigh and the edge of what looked to be pink panties.

Pink panties. F*ck. Me.

Kaden grimaced and shifted his weight, willing his body not to respond to the sight. And putting extra effort into forcing his mind not to draw in the rest of the picture of what was beneath her skirt. God, he’d imagined that so many times it probably qualified as some diagnosable mental illness. And if he let his thoughts go there now, he may as well drop out of school and go on the lamb. Because sporting a boner in the f*cking schoolyard would be an unredeemable humiliation to come back from.

After she finished her demonstration, her boyfriend, Doug, slid his arm around her and gave her a discreet pat on the ass. Kaden wanted to break every bone in that f*cker’s hand. It’d take care of two things at once—without that hand Doug couldn’t touch Tessa like that and he wouldn’t be able to throw a damn football again until the season was over. His daddy’s money couldn’t buy that back for him. Boo-hoo. The king would be ousted.


The morbid thought made Kaden smile.

“Hey, what the f*ck are you grinning at, a*shole?”

Doug’s loudmouth best friend, Quincy, had been hanging in the group with Tessa. But now the guy’s focus was solidly on him. Kaden barely resisted flipping the dude off and looked back down at his book, pretending the music was too loud for him to hear.

But, of course, the idiot couldn’t let it go. He ambled over, the group trailing behind him like a pack of dogs following a scent—in this case, the scent of potential drama and humiliation, the most enticing of all here at school.

Quincy peered down at Kaden, his bug eyes making him look like a pissed off pug. He kicked the front of Kaden’s Doc Martens. “Hey, I’m talking to you, K-K-Kaden.”

A few of them laughed at the old joke. Tessa didn’t. She had this cute little frown line between her brows that he wished he could reach over and smooth with his thumb. He didn’t think that’d be appreciated though. So instead, he shoved his book in his bag and stood, not saying a word. He’d worked hard to beat his childhood stutter, but when he was nervous, it came back like a f*cking horror movie villain who wouldn’t die. So he’d learned to keep his mouth shut when at all possible.

Not that he was nervous about shit-for-brains Quincy, but Tessa . . . Well, he’d probably forget how to speak the English language if he tried to say anything to her. Once he was up on his feet, he was looking down at Quincy. God bless that unexpected six inches of height. At least something had gone right this year.

“So what’s the smile for, big boy?” Quincy asked, dialing up the menace in his voice, but backing up an inch. “You wouldn’t be looking at Douggie’s pretty girlfriend would you?”

Heat rushed upward, and Kaden prayed it wouldn’t make it to his face. “N-n-no.”

F*ck! Why did his body have to rebel on him at the worst goddamned moments? Blushing and stuttering. He should just hand over his balls now.

“N-n-no?” Quincy teased.

“We all see how you look at her,” Doug said, stepping next to Quincy.

“Guys, stop it, okay?” Tessa said, her gaze darting away from Kaden’s. “Leave him alone. The bell’s about to ring.”

“No, babe,” Doug said with that smarmy, I’m-better-than-you tone that seemed to be his default. “I need to look out for you. I don’t want some freak staring you down and thinking God knows what. You see the kind of books he’s always carrying, how he dresses. Sick f*ck.”

Her jaw clenched. “He doesn’t look at me like anything.”

That was a lie. He did. But he wasn’t thinking sick thoughts. Well . . . depended on one’s definition of sick he supposed. “Why would y-you care if I look at her? Threatened?”

Quincy snorted, and Doug gave Kaden a curled-lip once-over. “By a f*cking fag with long hair and thrift store clothes? Hardly.”

Kaden smirked. “Well, if I’m a f-f-fag, then you have nothing to worry about. And maybe I’m l-l-looking at her because I feel bad for her. She has to deal with your sorry ass.”

With that, Kaden shoved past Quincy and made his way through the group. If they were smart, they’d let him go. Because he worked hard to stay out of trouble. Dealing with his stepdad any time he stepped out of line was more trouble than it was worth. But if those pricks laid their hands on him, he’d fight back. And though he probably wouldn’t win since he didn’t push weights every afternoon like those guys, he was feeling mean enough to fight dirty and inflict some damage before they took him down. Part of him hoped they’d try.

He walked to the main doors without looking back. No one came after him.

Maybe those douchebags had a few brain cells left after all.





Tessa looked toward the far end of the library then back down to the note Mrs. Rombach had given her after Tessa had earned her third D in English. “You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me.”

“Can I help you find something, Tessa?”

Tessa turned to find the librarian, Ms. Solis, sending her a pleasant smile from behind her fortress of a desk. “Um, Mrs. Rombach wants me to sign up for tutoring in English.”

The woman’s smile turned a tad sympathetic—oh my, the poor cheerleader who got the looks but not the brains. That’s what she was probably thinking. Tessa had seen that look before. She wanted to correct her, wanted to tell the librarian that she had As in math. But all this poetry and Shakespeare crap just didn’t make sense. How was she supposed to understand stories in a language that didn’t even resemble her version of English?

“She’s matched you up with Kaden Fowler, dear,” Ms. Solis said, pointing toward the tutoring room in the back of the library. The walls of the room were clear glass and soundproof, so there was no mistaking the shaggy blond head bent over a book. “And don’t worry. I know he’s a little quiet, but that Kaden is sharp as a tack. Goes through at least three books on his own a week.”

Tessa forced her face to form some version of a smile. “Is there someone else available? I mean, not that I doubt Kaden’s skills or whatever, but I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” she said, a little glint in her dark eyes. “Just give it a chance. If you feel he’s not the right tutor for you, you can talk to Mrs. Rombach.”

Well, crap. Mrs. Rombach was not her biggest fan. She had a feeling the woman had some sort of vendetta against the cheer squad and would simply fail her if she complained about which tutor she’d been assigned. Plus, if word got back to her foster parents that she was making waves, everything could go to hell. The Ds were going to be hard enough to explain.

With a heavy sigh, Tessa hefted her schoolbag higher on her shoulder and headed toward the back, determined not to make this a big deal. She tapped on the door before swinging it open, and Kaden lifted his head. The oh-shit expression on his face probably mirrored the one she’d worn when she’d walked into the library a few minutes ago.

“Uh, c-c-can I help you with something?”

She winced inwardly at his slight stutter, remembering how horrible Doug and Quincy had teased him a few days ago at lunch. Kaden hadn’t helped his situation, though, when he’d insulted Doug in front of the group. Her boyfriend was mostly harmless. Quincy usually was the one who got Doug pulled into stupid crap. But Doug wasn’t going to let someone like Kaden call him sorry and let it go. And he’d certainly shit a biscuit if he knew she was spending time with the enemy.

Which is why she needed to come up with a plan. Fast.

“Okay, so, yeah, I need your help.” She set her bag on the table and glanced over her shoulder. Doug would be at football practice by now, but that didn’t mean one of their other friends wouldn’t wander into the library for something. A lot of the after-school clubs met in here.

“With?” Kaden prompted.

She pulled out her latest essay test and flattened it on the table. “I’m failing English, and you’re my new tutor.”

“Y-y-you’re the girl who needs help in English?” He scraped a hand through his too-long hair, cursing under his breath.

“Yes. Me. And look, I know you don’t like me. And I’m really sorry for the other day. Those guys can be jerks sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“It’s mostly Quincy,” she said, peeking over her shoulder again.

“Sure it is.” He nodded toward the glass partition with a smirk. “What are you looking for? Afraid someone will see you in here with the s-s-sick f*ck?”

She gave a dramatic sigh and sank into a chair. This was not going at all how she’d planned. She hoped she could smile and sweetness her way through this. She wasn’t unaware of the effect she had on guys. God hadn’t given her much. Useless mother. Dead father. A crapton of foster homes. And not enough skills to know what the hell Hamlet was about. But he had given her a way with boys.

Unfortunately, this boy seemed immune, so she was going to have to give it to him straight.

“Listen, Kaden. Hate me all you want, but they pay you to tutor and right now, I’m the girl who needs help. But I don’t want to cause crap for either of us.”

“Meaning?” he asked, sounding bored.

“Meaning if Doug or any of my friends sees us together, he’s going to make your life hell. And I’m going to get an earful of shit.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“What?” she asked, the simple look making her feel self-conscious.

“N-n-nothing. Just never heard you swear before.”

She winced. Truth was, she’d developed a potty mouth at her last home placement. Her foster sister, Sam, had been quite colorful in her speech. But Tessa had learned to curb it when she moved in with the Ericsons. Her foster parents were super strict and would kick her out if they had any clue how much of a delinquent she was capable of being. And there was no way she was giving them up. They’d been the closest to having a real family as she’d ever had.

“So do we need to do this here?” she asked, ignoring his comment and tightening her ponytail.


“The tutoring? No. I just have to sign off that you showed up and for how long.”

“Great. Do you have somewhere else we could go?”

“You mean, where we can hide?”

She huffed. “Come on, Kaden. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but you know how it is.”

His shoulders sagged like he’d had a sack of sand thrown across them, but he nodded and tucked his books in his bag. “It’s a small t-t-town, Tessa. Where are we gonna go?”

She chewed her thumbnail and peered over her shoulder again. They definitely couldn’t go to the coffee shop or the park, even the McDonald’s had other kids hanging there all the time. And her place was not an option. Boys couldn’t come over when her parents weren’t home, period, no matter what the purpose. “What about your house?”

He paused in loading up his backpack and looked at her like she’d suggested he get them a rocket to the moon. “You want to come to my house? Your boyfriend would gather a lynch mob if he found out we were hanging out alone like that.”

She shrugged. “He’d be pissed. But it’s not like he’d get the wrong idea, I mean . . .”

The slight wince he gave was almost imperceptible but she felt like shit the minute she realized how it’d sounded. Like he was no threat. Like she was so far out of his league that there was no possible way anyone would worry about them alone together.

“Kaden, I didn’t mean that—”

He looped his backpack over his shoulder as he stretched out to his full, impressive height. The smirk was in place again but there was a sad note in his blue eyes. “Save your apology. You don’t need to play that nicey-nice, everybody-needs-to-like-me game with me. I know who we both are. And I know where we stand. Let’s go.”

The comment was like a swift slap right across her cheek, knocking off the bright face she put out in the world. In just a few brief minutes, Kaden Fowler had called bullshit on her. She hurried after him as he made his way out the side door and into the parking lot. She did a quick scan to make sure no one was around. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t need people to like me. They just do.”

He sniffed and dug his keys out of his ripped up jeans.

“Okay, so maybe you don’t.”

“And that b-b-bothers the shit out of you.”

She quickened her step, trying to keep up with his long, easy strides. “It does not.”

But it totally did. It was suddenly driving her crazy. Why didn’t he like her? She’d never personally done anything mean to him. She couldn’t be held responsible for Doug and his friends.

Kaden stopped next to a beat-up Dodge Challenger and turned to her. “I live over on Dunlop Road. You can follow me. At a reasonable distance, of course, so no one links us t-t-together.”

She gritted her teeth. “Fine.”

She turned on her heel to stalk to her car, but he called her name before she could take a step. She looked back to find him leaning against the top of his car, staring out toward the football field instead of turning in her direction.

“It’s totally bothering you, isn’t it?”

She groaned. “Shut up. Point taken.”

He smiled but there was no humor in it. He opened his door to climb into his car, but before he closed it, his eyes met hers. “Don’t worry, princess. Your record is still perfect. My problem isn’t that I don’t like you. It’s that I like you too much.”

And with that, he slammed his door and shut her out.