Getting Played (Jail Bait, #2)

Invisibility is harder here, because this is where it all happened. All of my classmates and teachers know what I did to Mom. But I still adhere to the keys. I got away from them in Oak Crest and ruined lives in the process.

Now, we’re at a pay-by-the-month hotel about a half-mile from school while Dad’s looking for a job. He thought Levi would take him back, but I guess he burned a bridge or two on his way out. It’s been two weeks and so far, no luck. His mood has gotten more foul with every rejection. Every day, I come home from school afraid to find him passed out with an empty bottle in his hand.

He’s asleep when I leave this morning for school. It’s a quiet walk and I use most of it to talk myself out of using a school phone to call Marcus. I’m determined to stay out of his life until I no longer have the potential to ruin it.

During lunch each day, I go to the library and I scour the internet for any news about a high school coach being arrested. When I find nothing, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. So far Dad isn’t drinking and Marcus isn’t in jail. It’s a delicate balance and one false move could capsize the boat.

But there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t ache for him.

At the thought of Marcus, my heart shrinks to a hard lump in my chest. I miss him so much I can’t even think straight. I get to the end of class most periods and realize I’ve been sitting there, staring out the window, imagining some fantasy where Marcus sweeps into the classroom and carries me off into the sunset.

So, when I turn the corner and start toward the front steps of the school, the bottom drops out of my stomach.

Marcus’s deep cinnamon gaze levels me from where he stands at the base of the stairs.

I feel my knees start to give and it’s a minute before I can move. He takes a few tentative steps toward me, as if he thinks I might bolt, like a wild animal.

My head is telling me to back away, pretend I didn’t see him and just walk into the school. But the rest of me isn’t on board with that. My feet move me toward him; my arms reach for him; my heart beats for him. And then I’m in his arms.

“Oh my God. What are you doing here?” It comes out choked by tears.

He grins down at me. “Getting lucky. I wasn’t sure I was going to find you.” He scoops me up by the waist and turns us back the way I came. “You’re playing hooky today.”

I wipe the moisture off my face. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

His truck is parked at the curb. If I’d been paying attention instead of being lost in trying to forget him, I would have seen it.

“Marcus,” I say, pushing him back as he tries to load me into the passenger seat. “Seriously what are you doing here?”

He pulls me against his hard body and all my wires cross. “I understand why you needed to come with your father. And I appreciate you trying to protect both him and me from our stupid selves, but I need you for today, Addie. Just give me one day, no questions asked, and everything that happens after is up to you. If you want me to go away, as much as it would kill me, I will go away. But I still think we can work this out.” He kisses me oh so softly on the mouth. “Just one day, Addie. Please.”

I stare into those darkening eyes and there’s no way I can say no. I climb into his truck and he closes my door before moving to the driver’s side. Once we’re in, he cranks the engine and starts to drive.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

He loops his arm around me and pulls me to his side. “You know I’m big on surprises.”

For the next few minutes, I let myself just live in the feeling of being in his arms again as his GPS directs him through city streets toward our mystery destination.

“I have something for you,” he says, pulling an envelope out of the door pocket and handing it to me.

I open it and find my Sam Hill paycheck inside.

“Why did you make those payments on my hospital bill?” I ask.

He sends me an unsure squint as he rolls to a stop at a signal. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

“Dad figured it out.”

He takes a deep breath as he starts the truck moving again. “When you were in the hospital, I heard your dad say you didn’t have insurance. I wanted to help. And selfishly, I was hoping you wouldn’t quit water polo for some lame job,” he says, flicking the check in my hand.

“Dad still hasn’t found anything, and we’re totally broke. I don’t know where he found the money for the hotel we’re in.”

“But…he’s okay?” he asks as we turn left.

I know what he’s asking, and I don’t blame him. “For now.”

“And you?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but I hear the trepidation in the question.

“I’m fine.”

He gives a pensive nod. “Good.”

“How did you find me?” I ask.

“You didn’t make it easy.”

“That was on purpose. You were supposed to stay away from me.”