Pieces Of You: Pieces Duet Book 1, page 18
Holden doesn’t respond, and so I pull back, look up at him. “Sucks,” is all he says, shrugging.
I groan. “It’s pathetic.”
“Honestly? A little. Bethany is harmless, and the sooner you purge the whole situation out of your system, the better.” He reaches up, flicks at my bun. “Can you take your hair down? I want to see it out.”
I scoff. “You’re telling me what to do now?”
“No. I’m telling you what I’d like to see and asking if you’ll do it for me.” He stares at me, challenging, his smile widening with each passing second. “You can always say no.”
“No,” I state, raising my chin in defiance.
His chuckle is soft, just loud enough for the butterflies in my stomach to hear, to move, to flutter. “You want to make out then?”
My grin is ridiculous. “Esme’s home. She can probably see us.”
Holden smirks, then drags both my legs over his. Arms around me, he settles his nose in the crook of my neck, inhales deeply before saying, “Esme can watch.” His hand moves up the inside of my thigh—large and rough—sending goose bumps floating across my skin. I turn my head, just slightly, just enough to meet his mouth with mine. The moment our lips touch, his fingers curl, digging into my flesh. He moans, deepening the kiss. His tongue slides along mine as he grips my nape, holding me to him. Then he adjusts us, so I’m sitting directly on his lap, all so he can show me the effect I’m having on him. I push down, grinding against him. “God, I’ve fucking missed you,” he says against my lips.
I pull back an inch, search his eyes—see the truth in his words beneath the lust setting the forest ablaze. “Me too,” I whisper.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Jamie.” He doesn’t hold back when he kisses me again. And those butterflies in my stomach?
They fly.
Soar.
Right out of my chest and into his hands.
“I told my mom we’d be over for dinner, so I’ll take you back to your place to get whatever you need for the night, and then we’ll go.”
That’s way too much information in a single sentence, and I don’t know which piece I want to pick apart first. I look around the diner, then lower my gaze to the burger and fries on the plate in front of me. “Aren’t we having dinner now?”
Holden scoffs, his grilled sandwich poised halfway to his mouth. “This is a snack.”
I push my plate toward him. “You eat it,” I say. “My stomach isn’t capable of handling both meals.”
“Weak.”
I watch him eat for a few minutes before asking, “We’re having dinner with your mom?”
He nods.
“Why?”
He shrugs.
“And I’m staying at your house?”
He nods again.
“Why?”
He shrugs again.
“Did I agree to this?”
Holden sighs as he leans forward. “You can always say no, Jamie.”
I didn’t say no.
I couldn’t.
I did, however, force Holden to call his mom and tell her we’ll be bringing dessert, and then I went to the cold room in the diner’s kitchen and grabbed an entire pecan pie. I added it to the list of products I bring home from the diner that Zeke swears he takes out of my wage.
I highly doubt he does.
We have dinner with Holden’s mom—my first decent home-cooked meal in a while—and we discuss school and work and life. We don’t go deeper than surface-level chatter, and we don’t discuss death. But, when his mom brings up our future, mainly college, Holden shuts it down real fast.
Now, I’m dripping wet, just out of the shower with the towel wrapped around me, and I’m peeking into Holden’s room, hoping to get a yes to my question. He isn’t there, and so I grab my phone from the counter, my thumbs leaving rivulets of water in their wake as I send him a text.
Jamie: Can I have a bath?
I’d noticed the corner bath the first time I was here, and I’d wanted so badly to fill it, soak in it, maybe even cry tears of joy in it.
Holden: Go for it.
I don’t even wait until the bath is semi-filled. I sit in the tub with my legs crossed, my hand under the stream as water cascades below me. I push aside thoughts of Gina, of tainted, murky water, and trembling bones caused by fear and shame.
When I feel as if the water’s enough to cover half my body, I lie down, inhale deeply, and I then close my eyes. They’re not closed long before they snap open at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Holden strides in, not a care in the world.
I screech, and he rolls his eyes. “Relax, Regina. I’ve seen it all before.” He’s cradling his arms, and I don’t realize what he’s doing until he dumps a bunch of candles on the bathroom counter. “Ambience,” he says, sparking a lighter to life. He picks up a candle, lights it, and then sets it beside the tap. I silently watch as he lights each one, and when he’s done, he flicks off the light and turns to me, saying, “I’ll be back.” No more than a minute later, he returns with a small step stool and makes a home for himself right beside the tub. “Hi.”
The candles cast a dim glow across his features—nothing but striking lines and bold angles. I wonder how he sees me—too exposed? Too vulnerable? “The candles are a nice touch,” I say, nervous energy pumping through my veins. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get in my pants.”
With a smirk, he says, “Who says I’m not?”
“Yeah, about that…”
He quirks an eyebrow.
“I was just thinking that maybe… maybe we can put a pause on the whole sex thing? Just until—”
“Okay.” He’s too quick to cut in, and now I’m suspicious.
“Okay?” I ask, and he nods. “Just… okay?”
“Yeah, Jamie. If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.” He dips his hand in the water but doesn’t touch me. “I have to say, though, it’s incredibly cruel of you to say this while you’re naked.”
“Hold on.” I sit up slightly. “You don’t even want to know why?”
He shrugs, his gaze dipping to my breasts before meeting my eyes. “If I recall, sex for me is fun, and sex for you has to mean something, right?”
My eyes widen, and I jerk up, splashing water all around me. “You remember that?”
Lips curled, he says, “Yes, I remember, and you don’t need to give me your reasons. Besides, telling someone how you feel shouldn’t lead to an argument.”
Who is he right now? “That’s… true.”
“Mia—she always says that No is a complete answer, and you don’t need to justify it.”
“I like Mia,” I say through a smile.
He smiles back. “Anyway,” he says, removing his hand from the water and flicking droplets on my face, “I was thinking about the whole you and Bethany thing.”
I groan, roll to my side, and grip the edge of the tub.
“If it bothers you so much, why not just, like, drop out of school? You can still homeschool and get your diploma.”
“I could,” I sigh out. “But that would take away from one of the many reasons I enrolled in the first place.”
“And what reason is that?”
I shift onto my back again and eye the ceiling, trying to come up with a response that will satisfy his curiosity. “I spent so much of my life being an outcast, or taking care of my mom, and once she was gone—” The ache in my chest is sudden and unexpectedly severe, and I blink hard, pushing past the pain. Through the knot in my throat, I manage to say, “I wanted something for myself. Something I’d craved but could never grasp while she was alive. I just…” I shrug. “I wanted to be a normal teenage girl.”
Holden’s silence is deafening, and I force myself to breathe, to settle the anguish twisting through my bloodline so I can peek up at him.
“You think it’s stupid, don’t you?” The crack in my voice betrays the strength I’m attempting to portray.
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” he says, sitting taller, his gaze distant. “It’s just that… I don’t think you went through what you did and survived what you have so you could come out of it and be normal.” He pauses a beat. “You’re not here to be average, Jamie. You’re here to be extraordinary.”
I stare at him. At a boy lost in his own thoughts, in his own world, and he has no idea the effect he has on me.
Or the change he’s creating inside me.
Gina used to give me her clothes to help fight my battles against my tormentors.
And now… now Holden’s giving me his words to rage a war against myself.
34
Holden
Over the next few weeks, Jamie and I fall into a routine that was never discussed—never outlined. On Wednesdays, we go to Esme’s, then to the diner, and then to her house where she packs an overnight bag, and we go back to my house and have dinner with my mom.
Afterward, Jamie showers, bathes, and then I fuck her senseless against every surface of my room.
That last part is a lie.
On Saturday nights, I pick her up from work, and we go back to her house, where I fuck her senseless against every surface of her room.
That last part is also a lie.
Can you see where my headspace is at? And I realize that I’m being a dick but hear me out. We make out. A lot. We fool around. A lot. I see her naked. A lot. It’s just that… I’m forcing myself not to do all those things at the same time.
It’s… awesome—another lie, but it’s what Jamie wants, so that’s what Jamie gets.
On the upside, my dick and my hand are best friends again. Yay!
Besides those two nights a week, we don’t hang out, don’t call each other. Occasionally we’ll send random, meaningless text messages, but apart from that, there’s not a whole lot of communication going on.
And I can say the same for Dean and me, minus the text messages. We talk only when necessary, mainly during games or practices, and the rest of the time, I ignore his existence. I have other friends I can hang out with. So does Jamie now, too. Well, one friend. Some girl named Melanie from her art class who’s notorious for hating literally everybody.
Besides Jamie, apparently.
I catch sight of the two girls at a table by the art room during lunch and make my way over to them. Jamie and I don’t make a show of our... relationship (?) on school grounds. Not because we’re trying to hide it or because we’re ashamed, and definitely not because of Dean, but because—as Jamie puts it—it’s no one’s fucking business. I straddle the bench next to Jamie, startling her. “What the—”
“Hi,” I cut in, baring my teeth with my smile.
She eyes me sideways. “Hi.”
I point to her sandwich sitting on a Zeke’s Diner paper bag. “Is that the grilled—” She’s already offering it to me before I finish the sentence.
I take a bite, and then another, and when I’m done, I kiss the spot beneath her ear. The spot that makes her flinch, makes her laugh. “Stop it!” she hisses, but she’s smiling. She’s dressed the same as she is every day, and her hair’s up in that perfect bun she can’t seem to let go of. But… there’s something different about her today. Something I can’t quite put a finger on.
I scoot closer to her, settle my hand on her knee, and slowly creep higher beneath her skirt. “What’s with you?”
Her smile widens. “What’s with you?”
“What’s with both of you?” That comes from the girl sitting opposite us, her words completely monotone. I turn to face her—jet black hair with thick bangs covering half her bright blue eyes, and cherry red lips contrasting her pale face. She isn’t like most of the other girls in the school, and, like Jamie, she doesn’t make an effort to try to be. I dig it.
“I’m Holden,” I say.
“I know.”
I glance at Jamie, whose looking down at her food, trying to hide her amusement. Then back at Melanie. “You’re Melanie, right?”
“Yep.” She doesn’t seem annoyed by my presence or happy about it either. Like her lack of inflection, her expression gives nothing away.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you.”
“We had three classes together last year.”
“Oh.”
Jamie giggles and I switch my focus back to her. “Are you working tonight?” It’s a Monday, and from what she’s told me, it’s the only other day of the week that she might get off.
She nods. “I start at six.”
“Do you want to come over after school?” I ask. “I have something to show you.”
“His penis.” Melanie deadpans, and my eyes snap to hers. She looks between us. “He’s talking about his penis, Jamie.”
Jamie snorts with her short laugh.
“I can see why you’re friends,” I state. “You’re both obsessed with my dick activity.”
Jamie backhands my stomach, making me choke on a breath. After recovering, I ask, “So wait for me after school?”
“Sure,” Jamie replies.
Melanie again: “I bet it’s for sex.”
Jamie mumbles, “Oh my god,” at the same time I tell Melanie, “You’re charming.”
With a completely straight face, Melanie replies, “Thank you. I try.”
I turn to Jamie, press a kiss to the same trigger spot, and stand up before she can push me away. “I’ll see you later,” I say, then raise my hand toward Melanie. “It was a pleasure, Melanie.”
“Likewise.” She nods. “Enjoy your explosion of fluids tonight.”
Shaking my head, I chuckle as I move behind Jamie and grasp the side of her face to tilt her head back. “Kiss me.”
It takes her a moment to react, but then she’s reaching up, cupping my nape as she brings me down to her waiting lips. She kisses me once. Twice. And as soon as she begins to pull away, I part my lips, deepen the kiss, which is a mistake, because I spend the rest of the afternoon sporting enough wood to build a treehouse. Yay!
“Where’s your mama, sweet boy?” Jamie coos in a voice generally used on toddlers. It would be cute, endearing even… if her question wasn’t aimed at me.
I glare at her as I pull into my driveway, causing her to snicker into her hands like a pre-schooler. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Because you liiike me,” she sings, grinning over at me. “Seriously, though. Your mom’s car isn’t here.”
“She’s probably at Esme’s. She’s been doing some yard work there during the days,” I tell her, hopping out of the truck. I make my way to her side to open her door, but she doesn’t immediately step out. Instead, she raises her arms in the air, and so I bite back a smile, and lift her out of the seat. Her legs instantly wrap around me, her arms clinging to my neck, while my hands find her ass so I can hold her in place.
“So you’ve been spending your free time with Esme?” she asks, as I spin her toward the house.
“Yep.”
“Maybe you do have a granny fetish?”
“Fuck off,” I laugh out.
She giggles. “This is nice,” she murmurs, nibbling on my neck. I carry her into the house exactly as we are, ignoring the constant sexual tension building between us. Stopping just outside my closed bedroom door, I lean her against it, just so I can look in her eyes when I ask, “I take it you’ve missed me?”
“A little,” she says, flipping my cap backward before kissing me. Just once. She’s the version of Jamie I’ve only witnessed recently—careless and calm, and it absolutely terrifies me to think that maybe… maybe I’m the reason.
She runs her nose along mine, kissing me again, and I push open the bedroom door and set her gently on my desk. She’s in a plain navy dress with absolutely no shape, which works for me because it hides all the parts of her that only I get to see. Her short, little legs swing back and forth, and I turn away before she can see my reaction to that slight movement. It’s cute. And I don’t do cute, but on Jamie… everything is tolerable, and that, too, is terrifying.
I find the large, yellow envelope on the bookshelf and hold it out in front of her. “Here.”
“Eeek!” she squeals, bouncing in her spot while making grabby hands.
“Don’t get too excited,” I warn, but she’s already tearing into it as if it’s the first and only gift she’s ever received. That would suck. And it might also be a possibility. That really sucks.
Discarding the envelope to the side, Jamie looks down at the thick catalog in her hands, then up at me, again and again, and I don’t know if she’s confused or disappointed. Probably both. “I had my dad send it,” I mumble, glancing around my room to hide my embarrassment. I’d never felt like this before, but then again, I’ve never really cared what people thought of me. Obviously, I care what Jamie thinks, and right now, I can’t get a decent read on her.
“Holden…” she breathes out, but it’s not enough to give anything away. She runs her thumb across the cover of the book, right over the Eastwood Nursery and Garden Center logo.
“It has all the products we sell in there. Pictures, too. I just thought…”
Her eyes meet mine. “Thought what?” she urges.
I shrug. “I’m sure it's nothing like the ones Gina had, but I thought you might like it.”
Jamie’s exhale is slow, forced, and then she’s leaning back against my wall, a whispered “whoa” leaving her. For seconds that feel like minutes, she simply stares at the catalog, her breaths shaky, harsh against the silence around us. When she finally looks up, her eyes are filled with unshed tears.
I’m so quick to look away, my head spins. “Dammit, Jamie! You know I don’t do crying girls.”
