Treacherous

Her shrug is stiff. “I don’t care. Just not home.”

I lock my jaw and put my truck in gear, pulling out of the parking lot and turning left. I drive for about twenty minutes before I turn down an overgrown gravel road. I haven’t been here since I was a kid, but I chose this spot because I know no one ever comes out here.

The road is bumpy and the brush is so thick that it scrapes against the side of my truck, no doubt leaving scratches in the already rusted paint. The clearing opens up, and I drive over the small mounds of dirt until we’re directly in front of the big screen. One corner is broken off and graffiti covers most of the rest.

I put my truck in park, but keep the engine running for warmth.

“This used to be the hot spot when my parents were younger,” I say to fill the silence. “It shut down when I was eight. The last movie I saw here was Iron Man. I sat in the front seat between my parents.”

Rylee doesn’t move; not even a twitch of her fingers.

“I should have listened to you,” she says after a few painful minutes of silence have filled the cab of the truck between us. “You tried to warn me, but I ignored you.” Her voice breaks and a lone tear slides down her cheek. “Why does he hate me so much?”

“I don’t know.”

My stomach plummets to my goddamn toes when she finally looks at me. Devastation fills the pretty brown orbs. Never has a simple look bothered me so much as seeing the desolation on Rylee’s face.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve unbuckled us both, scooped her in my arms, and set her sideways on my lap, her back against the door. Her eyes widen for a brief moment at the sudden movement.

Her bottom lip wobbles, and it’s only a split second later that she finally breaks. Her eyes fill with tears and her face crumples. I pull her to my chest and she buries her face in the crook of my neck, clutching my shirt in her small fists- like there’s even a chance in hell I would let her go. Her sobs crack something inside my chest, and I can barely catch my breath along with her. I rub her back and brush her hair from her face, trying my damnedest to offer her comfort. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough, but other than going back to school and beating the shit out of Oliver and Tiffany, this is the only thing I can give her at the moment.

My shirt is soaked by the time Rylee begins to calm down. Her breaths come in shuddering pants, but at least it’s not the hiccupping sobs of a moment ago. She keeps her face in my neck, and I’m not ashamed to admit I like having her there. I just wish the circumstances were different.

After a few moments, she sucks in a shaky breath and lifts her head. With the steering wheel in the way, she can’t go very far. She tries to move from my lap, but I don’t want to let her go yet, so I hold her in place by her hips.

“Stay for a couple more minutes,” I request gruffly. Seeing her so broken has really fucked with my emotions. “Please.”

She nods and her eyes slide to my neck. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“I don’t give a fuck about my shirt, Rylee.”

She nods again. Lifting her hands, she scrubs them across her face, wiping away the evidence of her break down. Even with her eyes puffy, her complexion

red and splotchy, and her hair a tangled mess, she’s still so damn beautiful.

“This is so embarrassing,” she mumbles, fisting her hands in her lap and darting her eyes away from me.

“What is?”

She gives a humorless laugh. “You know what, Zayden. This. All of this.” She gestures around the truck. “And that video….” She trails off, closing her eyes.

I gently grip her chin and turn her face back toward me. It takes her several seconds to open her eyes, and even then she has a hard time meeting mine.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Says the guy who wasn’t just humiliated by a video showing very personal things in a very public way.”

“First off, you did that in the privacy of your room, and it should have stayed that way.”

“Yeah, but it—”

“Secondly,” I say, cutting her off, “who the fuck cares if you touch yourself? People do it all the time. It’s normal, I bet every single one of those fuckers in that gym do it, too.”

She bites her lip and her brows form a deep V as she frowns. I remove my hand from her chin and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Lastly,” I add, dropping my voice, “and I’m sorry if this embarrasses you further, but do you have any fucking clue how much of a compliment it is to know you’ve touched yourself while thinking of me?”

Her face flushes red for an entirely different reason now. She releases her lip from her teeth, and I’m tempted to take it between mine. Only the seriousness of the current situation prevents me from doing so.