Misbehaved

“Good morning.” She is the first to speak. The smell of the soap she uses still clings to her skin. Apples or something. Simple. Natural. So unlike the girls she goes to school with who reek of Pradas and Valentinos. And yet there is something so real about this girl precisely because of that. I rake my fingers through my hair and look away from her.

“I left you money on the table. There’s a Kmart at the end of the block and a few convenience stores around the area if you need food or toiletries. I will pick you up on Monday morning and get you to school…”

She bolts upright and stops me, raising her hand.

“Wait, you’re leaving?”

“What did you think was going to happen, Miss Stringer? I would stay here and take you on a boat trip with flowers and champagne?” Jesus Christ. Even to my own ears, I know that I sound like a first-grade douchebag. I’m trying to throw her off. To get her to stop seducing me. Because the truth of the matter is, people have power over you only if you let them. Dozens of women and girls have tried to seduce me in the past. Not one succeeded. Until her. Until Remington Stringer.

“Maybe not champagne. You made yourself clear about me drinking.” She yawns, stretching. Her nipples are erect. Her hair is a mess. I stifle a groan. I need to get out of here.

I stand up.

“I’ll see you Monday.”

“I have nothing to do here, Mr. James. No books. No laptop. No nothing. What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to entertain yourself.”

“You liked watching me entertain myself. Why don’t you stay, anyway?”

Goddammit.

I blink twice, a casual smirk still spread all over my face.

“Watch your mouth, Miss Stringer.”

“Watch your hands, Mr. James,” she retorts, raising her green eyes to meet mine, then licking her luscious lips. “They seem to wander to places they have no business going when you finally let your guard down.”

“I need to get out of here,” I say, this time to both her and myself, because fuck, not only is she a step above every other girl in her class—her school—it’s been years since I’ve felt like I met my match.

“Stay,” she insists, her voice sharp and bossy.

“I can’t promise decorum if I do.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

I start walking toward the door leading upstairs to the dock. The small boat moves to the rhythm of my feet. It smells like dust and negligence in this place, but I love it too much to let it go. This is where Gwen and I went to in the Hamptons every day during the summer to sit around, drink beers, and make plans. When she moved to Nevada, I followed suit and took it with me.

“You say you want to help me.” She raises her voice, and I still, one hand on the doorframe and the other in my hair. I close my eyes. I shouldn’t listen to her. Know better than to do it. And yet here I am, all over the place, allowing her to sway me. “You say you care, but what you do is no better than what Ryan does. You dump me in a strange place I don’t know with a few bills and expect me to fend for myself the whole weekend? I’m better off staying at home kicking stones with my neighbors, waiting for my dad to arrive.”

She has a point, and it kills me. I want her to be argumentative and cunning, and she excels in my class even when we’re not in session.

“You know the implications,” I say without turning my back to look at her.

“I’m aware, and I’m responsible enough to face them.” There’s a grin in that voice, and I’d like to wipe it. With my lips all over hers.

Finally, I spin on my heels, slow.

“No one can see us together.” My voice is steel.

“No one will.” She gives me half a shrug. “But we’re not staying on the boat today. I’m taking you on a ride.”

“Do you know how to drive?” I cock an eyebrow.

“No, but you’re going to teach me, Teach.”

I’d never been in a vehicle like Pierce’s before I met him. I was used to beat-down cars and things that looked like you dragged them out of a junkyard. The seats here smell like real leather, and the a/c seeps chill to my bones. I choke the steering wheel like it wronged me somehow, my knuckles snow white. I stare ahead, afraid to let my eyes wander left or right.