Heat, Page 2

  Do not blush, Ella. Don’t you effing dare. You’re only going to make things worse.

  The problem is, I was kinda, sorta checking him out the other day while we were at Ethan’s parent’s shop and were working on Ethan’s truck. It had been hot inside, at least according to Micha, and he’d stripped off his shirt. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before, but it had been a while since I’d last seem him shirtless. It was when I realized he’d gotten a bit more muscular. Not that he has like bulging muscles or anything. He’s just more lean and toned than he used to be. And yeah, I may have stared a bit, but only because I was a bit shocked by how different he looked. What I didn’t realize, though, was that Ethan noticed me gawking. If I had, I never would’ve let my eyes linger, because if anyone’s going to rat me out, it’s going to be Ethan.

  I’ve known him for almost as long as I’ve known Micha, but we’ve never gotten along very well. Not that we hate each other. No, we’re more like friends who like to torment each other whenever we get a chance. I think it’s because our personalities are kind of similar, but that’s a theory I keep to myself.

  “I wasn’t staring,” I attempt to lie. But I should know better.

  Micha may not know every single thing about me, but he can read me super well.

  He tugs on a strand of my hair. “You’re really cute when you lie.”

  I lean back to where he can’t reach my hair. “Cute when I lie? Seriously, who’s the liar?”

  “I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. You on the other hand…” He smirks.

  I pinch his damn nipple again, harder this time.

  He laughs, leaning back, and rubbing his chest. “You’re also cute when you’re ruthless.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not cute, so stop saying that.” I stand up, but since it’s still early, I don’t really have anywhere to go, so it’s mainly to just be dramatic. “And you know what? I was staring at your chest the other day, but only because I was so shocked how hairy and gross and scrawny it is.”

  Laughter tickles at his throat as he shakes his head. “Now, I know that’s a lie.”

  “So you try to tell yourself.”

  His eyes narrow, but it’s a playful move. “Actually, I’ve been told many times that I have a very nice chest.”

  “By who? Blind girls?”

  Shaking his head, he lunges at me. He moves so quickly that I have zero time to react and he manages to get ahold of my waist.

  “Hey,” I gripe, moving to step back.

  But he jerks me forward and pushes me onto the bed. As I land on the mattress on my back, he moves to climb over me. I know him well enough to know what he’s trying to do—pin me down and hold me there until I admit he has a nice chest. I’m not going to go down without a fight, though. I never do.

  Before he can get completely on top of me, I shift my legs underneath me. Then I kneel up. He pauses, kneeling in front of me, a smile playing on his lips.

  “So you’re going to try to win, huh?” His voice carries a taunt and I know he’s totally doing it on purpose, trying to get me all riled up.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Do I need to remind you how many of these matches I’ve won?”

  “Yeah, but you haven’t won one in a couple of years.”

  It’s beyond annoying that he’s right.

  “And you want to know why?” he continues taunting me. “Because I got myself a manly, hairless chest.”

  I snort a laugh. “Keep telling yourself that, dude.”

  His eyes narrow again. “You know what. After I win this one—which I totally am—your punishment’s going to be to have to kiss this manly, hairless chest.”

  While I have zero desire to kiss his chest—at least, that’s what I tell myself—I’m not about to back down from a challenge. It’s not my style.

  “Fine, but when I win, you have to give me some driving lessons,” I quip.

  “Deal,” he says way too quickly, which more than likely means he doesn’t care if he has to give me driving lessons.

  “I thought you hated letting me drive,” I say. “That I scare the shit out of you.”

  He dismisses me with a wave of his hand, then starts rolling up the sleeves of his jacket. “You only scared me that one time you nearly ran into that mailbox, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like giving you driving lessons.”

  “Liar.”

  “I’m totally being serious. I mean, think about it.” He starts counting down on his fingers. “First of all, it gives me time to hang out with you, which is my favorite thing ever.” He grins as I roll my eyes for at least the third time in the last minute. “And second, I know you like driving and I like giving you things you like.”

  His words make me feel stupidly warm inside and that warmth makes me very uncomfortable. Not that he hasn’t said stuff like this to me before. I’ve just never been good at hearing them. I mean, people wanting to make me happy… wanting to do stuff for me… liking me… It’s something I have a hard time understanding.

  Of course, while I’m distracted by these confusingly warm feelings swirling around inside me, Micha lunges at me. Thankfully, I manage to jump to my feet and leap out of the way. But he snags the back of my shirt and pulls me back toward him. I reach around to put him in a headlock, but he ducks out of the way and pulls on the back of my shirt, causing me to fall down on the bed. I land on my back with a bounce and hurry to stand up, but he climbs on top of me before I get a chance, putting a knee on each side of me and pinning my arms down beside my head.

  “No fair,” I gripe, trying to wiggle out from underneath him.

  “How is this not fair?” he questions with a shit-eating grin.

  “Because you…” I try to think of a good reason, but I can’t so instead I let out a frustrated growl, to which he responds with a snicker.

  “Now that’s cute,” he teases, holding me down.

  I glare at him, but I’m not pissed off at him. No, I’m mad at myself for losing.

  I hate losing.

  “No, it’s not,” I growl out.

  “Yeah, it is.” He leans closer, his eyes glinting wickedly. “And it was a totally fair fight despite what you think.”

  “That’s not true,” I insist.

  His brow arches. “And why not?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  I give him a dirty look. I know what he wants me to say. That it’s not fair because he’s stronger than me and I know he’s stronger because I saw his chest the other day and saw his muscles. I’m not going to say that, though, because I’m stubborn. So instead, I continue wiggling around until I manage to get my legs hitched around his waist. I smirk at him as I cross my ankles behind his back.

  “Ha! Now it’s a tie.”

  He’s beyond amused. “How do you figure?”

  “Because I have you pinned too.”

  “No, you have yourself latched onto me, which is completely different. And I could get away if I wanted to.”

  I strengthen my hold on him. “If that’s true, then prove it.”

  His brow rises. “Are you doubting my mad skills?”

  I smile sweetly at him then shrug, an awkward move since he still has my arms pinned beside my head.

  Wisps of his blond hair fall across his forehead as he shakes his head. “Is that a challenge?”

  “Isn’t this whole thing a challenge?” I quip.

  He stares at me for a beat or two longer. “Fine, if that’s the way you want to play.” Then he pulls my wrists together, so he’s holding my arms with one hand.

  “Hey, what the heck—” I squeal as he uses his free hand to tickle my thigh. “Micha! Stop! This is cheating! And I freakin’ hate being tickled.”

  “How the hell is it cheating?” he asks, continuing to tickle me. “It’s not my fault I know everything about you, including every one of your ticklish spots.”

  “Yeah, but there’s a… no… tickling… rule…” I’m laughing so hard I
can barely get the words out.

  I also have to pee, really, really bad.

  But I’m not about to unhitch my legs from around him and lose this match. Instead, I focus on tightening my hold on him, lifting my hips and pressing against him as I latch onto him tighter…

  Wait… What is that pressing against my leg?

  My eyes widen as I realize exactly what it is. As panic sets in, I jerk my legs away. Micha chuckles, pinning me back down to the bed.

  “I win,” he declares with a grin. But the grin fizzles as he notes my expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I lie and not very well.

  His brows furrow. “No, something definitely is.”

  Yeah, there’s no way I’m about to tell him that I just felt his man part pressing against my leg.

  “I’m just pissed off I lost,” I mumble, hoping to hell my cheeks aren’t bright red.

  His confusion deepens, but then a grin rises on his lips. “You owe my chest a kiss.”

  “Can I do it a little bit later?” I ask because there’s no way I want to kiss his chest while he’s…

  And why is he even? Because he’s turned on? Why the heck would he be turned on while we’re wrestling? I know he doesn’t see me like that and I sure don’t want him to see me like that.

  “Sure.” He gives me another puzzled look before pushing off me and letting me up.

  I don’t sit up right away as I work to catch my breath. As the room grows quiet, this morning’s events start to catch up with me again.

  That’s the thing about Micha. When he’s around me and we’re goofing around, I sometimes forget about my problems. But the moment a beat of stillness settles between us, it all comes rushing back to me in sharp, potent, consuming waves.

  “So why were you up so early this morning?” he asks, lying down beside me and propping up onto his elbow.

  I turn my head toward him. “How did you know I was up early?”

  He absentmindedly plays with my hair. “I was shoveling the driveway so my mom could go to work and I saw your light on.”

  “Oh.” I crinkle my nose. “My dad called. He’s in jail again and wanted me to come bail his sorry ass out.”

  He frowns. “What’s he in for this time?”

  I shrug. “Who the hell knows, but since he sounded drunk, my bet is he either got into a bar fight or did something stupid, like piss on someone’s front lawn again.”

  He hesitates. “Are you going to bail him out?”

  I shake my head. “He’s only going to be in there for twenty-four hours.”

  He nods. “Might be good to leave him in there then. It’ll give him time to sober up.”

  “That’s what I thought too,” I say. “But my mom didn’t agree with me. In fact, she gave me a bunch of cash and told me I needed to go bail him out.”

  A crease forms between his brows. “Where’d she get the cash?”

  I huff out a stressed breath. “Who the hell knows, but I’m not about to go spend it on getting my dad out of jail.” I wrap my arms around myself as guilt presses against my chest. “Not when the power bill is overdue. Plus, all that’s in the fridge is expired milk and a six-pack of beer.”

  “You’re doing the right thing,” he tells me, again reading me better than anyone else can.

  Sometimes he can even read me better than I can read myself.

  Still, that doesn’t make me feel less guilty for lying to my mom and keeping the money.

  “Yeah, I know.” Sighing, I sit up and brush strands of my hair out of my face. Then not wanting to talk about my problems anymore, I change the subject. “So how are we getting to school today? Is Ethan going to give us a ride or do we have to take the bus?”

  He sits up and stares at me for a moment, probably wanting to ask me more. But, like the good friend he is, he lets the subject drop. “Ethan’s picking us up.”

  I crinkle my nose. “I’m not sure which is worse. The bus or his driving.”

  “Dude, you’re one to talk.”

  “Hey, I don’t even have my learner’s permit yet,” I point out. “Give me some time and I’ll be the best driver out of all of us.”

  His brow curves upward. “Even better than me?”

  “For sure.”

  “Wanna make a wager on that?”

  Not really, since I just lost one of our little wagers like two seconds ago. But like I said, I have a really hard time backing down from challenges.

  “Yep, you’re on.” I stick out my hand to make the deal.

  But he doesn’t place his hand in mine.

  “How about we make a pact on this one.” A trace of an amused grin tugs at his lips. “If in six months, you’re a better driver than me and Ethan, you get to drive us on a road trip.”

  “And if I lose?” I ask. “Not that I think I’m going to, but I’m curious what you want out of this.”

  His smile expands. “If you lose, then you have to go on a road trip with us while we drive.”

  “That’s seriously all you want out of this? A road trip?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah. And honestly, I don’t give a shit who drives.”

  I eye him over. “So then what’s the point of this pact?”

  He shrugs again. “For you to go on a trip with me, something I know you won’t do unless it’s part of a pact.”

  True. I have a hard time leaving the house for very long, for several reasons, one being. Like take what happened this morning. Had I not have been here, more than likely my mom would’ve either talked Dean into using her secret stash of cash to bail my dad out or she would’ve gone down herself. Then who the hell knows what would’ve happened from there.

  “I’m not sure I can leave my mom alone for that long.”

  “We can figure something out… Maybe my mom can keep an eye on her.”

  I waver. While the idea does sound appealing, I’m not sure if it would work. Not to mention we don’t have the funds to go on a trip. “Where would we get the money? And where would we go?”

  “We’ll figure out where we’ll go later on,” he tells me. “As for where we’ll get the money, I’m going to start working at the shop on weekends, so I’ll save up.”

  “Yeah, but I still need to find a way to come up with some cash.”

  “I can pay for you.”

  “No, I don’t want you doing that.”

  “Ella,” he starts, but I cover his mouth.

  “If we’re going to do this, I want to pay for myself.” I lower my hand from his mouth. “I’ll try to find a part-time job.”

  He looks skeptical but all he says is, “Let me know if you want me to help you find one.” Then, shaking out his shoulders, he lifts his hand toward his mouth. “Now to seal the deal.”

  I scrunch my nose as he spits into his palm. “You know, we really need to find a better way to start making these pacts.”

  “Nah.” He waves me off. “This way is awesome.”

  “I’m going to have to disagree with you.” But I spit in my hand anyway and shake his hand. “Ew, it’s all sticky.”

  He grins deviously. “That’s probably because I ate a cinnamon roll right before I came over here.”

  I pretend to gag. “You’re so gross.”

  “Yeah, so? You’re my best friend so what does that make you?”

  “Someone who’s tolerant of your grossness and who should be rewarded for her patience.”

  “Oh, you’ll be rewarded.” Grinning, he stands up. “Tonight, when you get to pucker up and kiss my sexy chest.” He makes kissy faces at me.

  I pick up a pillow and throw it at him, but he ducks out of the way, laughing.

  I sigh to myself. Why oh why do I always have to accept a challenge?

  He stops laughing and offers me his hand. “I’ll tell you what. If you stop pouting, I’ll help you clean up your kitchen after school.”

  “How about you just don’t make me kiss your chest?”

  He rolls his eyes then snags hold of my
hand. “That’s not going to happen.”

  I let him pull me to my feet. “Why? I’m sure you’re just as grossed out by the idea of me kissing your chest as I am.”

  Instead of answering, he pulls me toward the door, leaving me confused, which kind of seems to be my middle name lately.

  I’m Not Hot

  Ella

  Before Micha and I can even get down the stairs, someone honks a horn from outside.

  “That’s probably Ethan,” Micha tells me as he steers me across the kitchen.

  I glance at the clock on the microwave. “Why’s he here so early?”

  “I think he wants to drive up to the cabin.”

  The cabin is basically a log structure that resides at the bottom of the mountains that surround Star Grove. The roof is caved in along with the floor. The entire place looks like it could collapse at any moment, which probably makes it dangerous to be there, which makes it appealing to me.

  I don’t know why I’m like that, why I crave danger and adrenaline rushes. All I know is that my need for adventure has gotten me in trouble a lot over the years.

  I grab my leather jacket off a chair near the back door. I put it on, then reach to pick my backpack up, but pause. “So he wants to ditch today?”

  “Yeah, probably.” He tugs on a strand of my hair. “You got a problem with that?”

  “Yeah, right. I’m glad we’re ditching.”

  “Who’s ditching?” Dean asks as he wanders into the kitchen.

  His messy blue hair is in need of a dye, the brown roots showing. He has on a torn T-shirt and pair of worn pajama bottoms, and his eyes are bloodshot, which more than likely means he got stoned last night.

  “No one,” Micha replies before I get a chance to.

  Micha has never been a fan of my brother even though they sometimes play in a band together. Micha plays guitar and sings and Dean plays the bass and the drums when Ethan doesn’t show up. There’s also another guy name Jameson, who’s Dean's friend. I think he does a bit of everything.

  While I love my brother and everything, Dean can be a huge asshole sometimes so I don’t really blame Micha for not liking him. I think the only reason Micha is in the band at all is because he lives and breathes music, and there’s not a lot of opportunities in Star Grove. Micha is definitely the best in the band. He plays the guitar perfectly, his voice is almost otherworldly, and he writes his own music too. He’s pretty awesome, but I might be biased being his best friend and all.