Cheater, Faker, Troublemaker

Chapter 4

"Suit yourself, Jersey. But don't blame me for making you miss out on the snapshot of the century."

"Off, Elias."

"Okay, okay. Relax. This was your idea, remember?"

He eased off and lowered me down until I was safely on the ground and away from him. I smoothed out the wrinkles in my tank-top, unruffled my hair, and tried my best not to act as shaken as I felt. But sometimes, the aftershock of being close to beautifully dangerous boys linger long after they're gone.

I stood up and dusted myself off while Elias sauntered back over in Mindy's direction like he hadn't crashed into me at all.

"Mindy-mouse, please tell me you at least got some of that on camera," he asked.

Mindy stayed deadly quiet. She was too busy staring into the screen of his phone like she'd seen a ghost.

      "Babe, who's this?" she asked.

Her voice cracked halfway through her question and Elias's punch-drunk smile sobered itself straight.

    "Who's who?"

     "This."

    He darted across an empty parking space, tripping over his shoelaces just to stop her from scrolling through what sounded like a secret. I liked the idea of a secret that could make Elias sweat, and he was drenched.

      "Are you seeing someone else?" Mindy asked.

     Elias grabbed for his phone but Mindy played a pretty solid game of keep away for someone her size. I should've brought popcorn.

     "Can I get my phone back?" he asked.

     "Answer the question, Elias."

     For a bubblegum girl, Mindy could switch into I-might-as-well-be-your-girlfriend mode on a dime. She shoved Elias's phone into the back of her shorts and stiff-armed him to keep him at a distance. But he leaned into her tiny hand and stared down at her like they were the only two people in the parking lot.

     For a split second, even in the 90-degree heat of their argument, they were electric. The way he'd hold her gaze, and the way she teetered on the edge of giving in almost looked like magic.

     Rory and I never had that magic. Our arguments were frightening not flirtatious. We couldn't do the dance that Mindy and Elias fell into at a glance. We were broken. He was broken, just an impending explosion without a spark. 

      "Mindy, please," he begged.

     I didn't know this boy. The smooth-talking sleeze bag, I knew. But a boy who pleaded, a boy who suddenly sounded too small for the tough guy tall-tales he wanted the world to believe, was begging for his secrets back.

     First rule of surviving: if a secret's heavy enough to bring you to your knees, don't carry it in your back pocket.

     "What's her name, Elias?" Mindy asked.

     "Don't."

     "Have you been with her as long as we've been—"

     "Bed buddies?"

     The hard and fast crack of skin against skin echoed through the empty parking lot. I held my breath waiting for the eruption, waiting for Elias to give into the quiet rage the way broken men do, but he stayed still, and stared into the space between them like he'd find a solution in the silence.