Boys And Their Toys: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Troubled Playthings 1) - Page 49

“Only with you,” he said after a few seconds’ thought, “if you actually think I might have one.”

My hair had been flung into my face by the wind. I didn’t get to see what he might have been thinking. “You’ve just never let yourself think that you might have one… until you started spending time with me.”

It had been a brave guess, but when I managed to clear

my eyes and saw how he was looking, I was certain there had been something to it.

“It’s why you keep coming back, isn’t it?” I continued, shaking but determined to hold my courage. “Maybe it’s why you kept coming back to me when we were kids, too. Maybe you sensed something even then.” I didn’t really believe anything that deep, of course, but it was the sort of neat tie-up to our story that might get his attention. That might make him trust me.

And he was driving more slowly now, only just above the limit—because he needed more of his concentration to think, but it was something.

“Fucking stupid of you to think two fucking kids might have some sort of special connection,” he said.

He was right, of course, but the fact that he would speak like that—nothing at all charming or calculated about it—told me how much of an impact I was having.

“I don’t make the rules,” I said. “I’m just telling you what I see. You might want to control the narrative with me, keep me where you can enjoy me however you like, but the fact is there’s something about me you need in your life. And maybe it’s time you let me in a bit more, so we can work on our story together.”

“What the fuck would I need you for?” Lucas demanded. “I’ve got a fucking kick-arse family, all the money in the world I could need…”

“You’re right,” I said. “Your family’s great. But they don’t really know what to do with you, do they? Lucy knows you the best, and she’s scared for you. That’s why she went out and found me, after your accident: she was afraid of what you might have done to me. I get the feeling your parents don’t even let themselves think too hard about what you might be doing. Don’t you think they’ve all suffered enough, Lucas? Are you going to hurt them more, because it’s too scary for you to reach out like you need to?”

Lucas snorted. “So fucking romantic, Calista, laying down the threats. I’d better let your creepy stalker arse into my life, or I’m going to ruin my entire family?”

“Not a threat. It’s an observation. And I’m just trying to help you do what I think you really want to, anyway. I think that’s a big part of why you behave the way you do.” I considered that. “Not that I think you wouldn’t act out otherwise, I seem to remember you’ve always been a bit of a brat. But I do think you’ve been trying to send a message, even if you didn’t realise it at the time, and… well, message received, okay? I get it. Now you have to trust me and let me in.”

I could tell he was thinking about Lucy, because he had the same expression on his face as when she’d driven off that day and left the two of us together. He was so close to driving at a speed that suited the conditions. I just had to help him a little more…

“Look,” I called. “I can’t promise you won’t lose this. I can’t assure you that you’ll remember. But the only thing you can do is let me help you. Let me try to remember for you, when you can’t.”

Lucas slammed on the brakes, abruptly. I whimpered as the car wiggled a little and I was jerked against my seatbelt, but we were under control. We were slowing… and then Lucas swerved the car sideways into a park that definitely wouldn’t have gotten him his licence in a driving test.

He turned to me. “I can give you an experience you’ll remember, all right.”

I didn’t realise what was running over my face at first. Was I crying? Of course, now we’d stopped the car the rain was finding us easily.

“Okay,” I said. I had a feeling I knew exactly what sort of experience he was keen on, and it said a lot about just how messed-up I was right now that I was starting to feel a new adrenaline rush at the thought. “But can we please get the car under cover first so it isn’t completely destroyed by the end of the day?”

And then a police motorcycle pulled up alongside us. I barely managed to restrain myself from dropping my face into my hands. There was no way the officer riding had missed some of what was going on with us.

She flashed a badge, asked for Lucas’s licence, and shot each of us a look in turn, ending on Lucas. “And I thought I was the one making the worst travel decisions out here tonight,” she commented. “Are you two aware it’s raining?”

“We’re getting the car under cover as soon as possible,” I assured her.

“That’s good,” the officer said, “I won’t hold you up any longer than I need to, but we need to address your driving first, sir.”

She must have seen my face fall. This was my car. I just knew I was going to be the one who wound up in trouble for this somehow.

Lucas tilted his head up at her. I couldn’t see his face, but I could see she wasn’t going to be putting down a deposit on whatever he was selling.

“Yeah,” he said, “made a bit of an error in judgement back there. Callie here set me straight.”

Now she was looking at me, and it was taking all my inner strength and then some not to cringe. I’d always tried so hard to avoid doing anything that would attract police attention. It was all very well if you were someone like Lucas or Ashleigh, who lived in neighbourhoods with multistory houses and had good names to support them. If the police got hold of me and found out where I lived, they’d probably assume I was up to something criminal like half our neighbours.

All I could do now was be honest. “I should probably mention this is my car,” I said.

“Well, ma’am,” said the officer, “as you were certainly not driving at the time, all that means to me is that you need to exercise better judgement with who you allow to drive your vehicle in future.”

“Oh, I know that now,” I said. “Trust me.” There was no point in trying to explain to her that I’d never really allowed Lucas to drive my car in the first place.

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