Until You

Chapter 17

“Stop!” K.C. laughed. “You’re cheating!”

“I don’t cheat.” I stood there, smirking and leaning on my pool cue. “I made the shot. I get another one.”

K.C. and I squared off across my pool table in the family room, and her frustration actually had me itching to laugh.

K.C. the Pool Shark. Who would’ve thought?

After school, and the episode with Tate, I’d cooled off at work and then headed home.

As I’d pulled into my driveway, I’d noticed a black Lincoln parked next door at the Brandts’ and had immediately groaned.

Tate’s grandmother.

Normally, I would’ve been pissed that Tate now had an adult around, interfering.

But that wasn’t it.

Her grandmother was in everyone’s business and always tried to talk to me when she came to visit. I should’ve known she’d come to stay with Tate being on her own right now. I just hoped she didn’t stay long.

K.C. had come over around eight, and we were going on our fifth game of pool.

“You called the six,” she argued. “Not the six and the ten! You can’t put two balls in the pocket at the same time. You have to make the shot you call.”

“It’s called being awesome.” I shot back.

She scowled at me and twisted her lips up in frustration.

Her frustration was kind of cute, and she was a beautiful mess tonight. Her long brown hair, a shade lighter than mine, was in a loose ponytail, and she had on no makeup.

If there was ever a clearer sign that a girl wasn’t into you, this was it.

“Fine.” I shrugged and put my hands up in the air, feigning annoyance. “Take your shot.”

Her eyes lit up as did her bright smile, and she leaned down over the table to take her turn.

Even though it was getting on to ten o’clock, I wasn’t in any hurry for her to leave.

She won four out of the five games we played, and I thought I’d have to go to the ER to get my balls reattached. I was interested in knowing how an uptight girl who couldn’t touch a single thing in Freshman Biology without saying “Ew” learned how to be a hard-nosed pool player.

We walked towards the living room, and I put my arm around her neck, gently pulling her in.

“So I have to ask you something?”

She let out a long sigh. “Yeah, me, too.”

I looked down at her. “You first.”

Plopping down on the couch, she stared at her hands in her lap. “I know you’re using me to get to Tate, Jared. To make her angry, or…” and she looked up at me, “jealous.”

My legs stiffened, and I didn’t sit down. Crossing my arms, I walked to the rain-splattered window and, out of habit, looked up to Tate’s darkened bedroom windows.

Don’t.

“Jared,” she continued, “I’m using you, too. I’m not even sure if I want Liam back, but I want him to know I’m not sitting at home waiting for him, either. That’s why I took you up on the offer to come here tonight. Tate said she was busy, and I didn’t want to stay home.”

I turned around and cocked my head to the side, peering at her. “You could’ve used any guy to make Liam jealous, K.C. Why me? You knew that it would hurt Tate if she thought you were hooking up with me.”

I could almost see her melt into the couch. Her face fell, and she slowly brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them.

“My mom is…,” she almost whispered, “overbearing.” She shook her head, like the word “overbearing” was too simplistic. “She picks out my clothes, checks my phone, picks my classes, and she even …” But her breath caught, and she choked back a dry sob.

My mouth went dry, and I stilled.

Jesus.

What wasn’t she saying?

Using her thumb, she caught tears as they fell. “Anyway, after Liam, I’m just sick of being me. Sick of being weak and pushed around. I thought Jared Trent would get under Liam’s skin like no other.”

The corners of her lips turned up slightly, and I understood what she was saying.

We both wanted control.

“But you knew it would hurt Tate,” I restated, still searching for a reason why she would hurt her so-called best friend.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Not part of the plan, but I guess I figured it would turn around this game you two play. Move things along, so to speak.”

I pinched my eyebrows together. “Even at the risk of losing your friend?” I asked.

But she shocked me by exhaling a laugh. “You’re not that powerful, Jared.” She looked down, and then continued softly, “Tate and I will be fine. She can’t know about this, though. She knows who she is. She’s not silly or insecure. I don’t want her judging me for playing this game with Liam. I don’t want anyone to know.”

She put her feet back on the carpet and straightened up, meeting my eyes. “Jared, I have no idea what your problem is with her, but I know you’re not a bad guy. I thought when she got back, things would be different. You two would be over this mess.”

“We are over it,” I asserted as I took a seat next to her.

K.C. narrowed her eyes to slits and tipped her chin up. “You love her,” she said, not asked, and my face flushed.

“No,” I said firmly.

“Good.” She slapped her hands onto her lap, and her tone suddenly lightened up, surprising me. “Ben Jamison will be at the race Friday night. It’s likely he’ll bring Tate. Can you keep your claws in?”

My arms rested on the back of the couch, otherwise she would’ve seen my fists ball up.

As much as I was trying to not care, Madoc, K.C., and everyone else for that matter kept reminding me that Tate was moving on with her life.

“I don’t care who does what, K.C,” I stated without any emotion.

She looked at me for a few seconds, while I stared ahead.

“Do me a favor?” she asked, smoothing her hands down her faded jeans. “Play along with this through the race for me? Liam is going up against Madoc, and I just—”

“Yeah,” I cut her off, knowing exactly what she needed. “You got it.”

If she wanted to make Liam jealous, then I could help. It wasn’t a very honorable cause, but it was fun.

“Movie?” I suggested, trying to change the subject.

“Sure. Do you like dance movies?”

And I almost kicked her out of my house right then and there.

Thick rain poured down outside, and the air felt dense with energy. I gave K.C. a sweatshirt to cover her head when she left around midnight, and then I locked up the house and jogged upstairs to my room.

For the first time in years, I wanted in that tree.

Tate and I used to climb in and sit in it during storms—or anytime, really. I hadn’t seen her in the tree for years, though.

Sliding up the window, I poked my head out into the wind and the rain and immediately froze.

Hell.

Tate was in the tree.

My fingers clenched the windowsill.

The first thing that came to mind was an angel. Her hair flowing and shiny. Her legs dangling, long and smooth. She looked perfect where she was, like a painting.

And then I remembered that Satan was also an angel.

You’re a miserable piece of shit, Jared. Her words today had cut me more than I wanted to admit.

“Sitting in a tree during a thunderstorm?” I taunted her. “You’re some kind of genius.” She popped her head up and twisted around to face me.

The look in her eyes—that I could see, anyway—wasn’t angry the way it usually was with me. She wouldn’t look at me completely. No, her eyes were guarded and a little sad.

“I like to think so, yes,” she said, facing away from me again.

Her demeanor had me puzzled. She wasn’t timid, but she wasn’t engaging, either. Did she feel bad about what she said to me today?

Well, I didn’t need her pity. I wanted her fucking anger.

Don’t feel sorry for me.

I wanted her to sit there and own what she did. Don’t apologize and don’t shy away. Get mad at me, Tate.

“Tree? Lightning? Ring any bells?” I continued to antagonize her. I knew there was some danger sitting in a tree during a lightning storm, but it’s nothing we hadn’t done a hundred times when we were kids.

“It never mattered to you before,” she spoke up, emotion gone from her voice as she looked out to our glistening street.

“What? You sitting in a tree during a storm?”

“No, me getting hurt,” she shot back and shut me up.

Damn her.

Every fucking muscle in my body tightened, and I wanted to shake her and yell, “Yeah, I don’t fucking care if anything bad ever happens to you!”

But I couldn’t.

I did care—goddammit—and I wanted to punch a wall because of it. Why the hell did I care about anything she did? Who she dated? Who she screwed?

But then, I guess I’d be miserable, too, if my parents hated me.

Her words spread like tentacles through my brain, sucking the life out of everything good I’d ever thought about her. Every memory.

I had to cut her out of my heart and my head.

“Tatum?” I almost hesitated but forced out the rest. “I wouldn’t care if you were alive or dead.”

And I turned my back on her and finally just walked away.