Things seem so weird when I wake up that I'm startled and almost start freaking out. First of all, I feel dazed and languid, like I accidentally took a really long nap. I'm sprawled in my bed face-down, tangled in the sheets, buried in the heap of pillows at the headboard, clutching at something with my arm and leg that isn't there anymore.
Secondly, I realize that Jason was that something, and while I was asleep my body was molded to his, as if I was holding onto him. I probably was. But where is he now? There's no sign that he was even in my room at all last night. Did I somehow dream the whole thing?
This thought brings me to the third thing. It's broad daylight. I sit up and crane my neck to see my bedside clock - it reads ten thirty a.m. Which means that I got a full night's sleep for the first time in two months. That's mind-boggling, but it also means that Jason was here and nothing about last night was a dream. I wonder if I dreamt or had any nightmares at all, because I surely don't remember them. All I remember is drifting off on a cloud of sleep right next to Jason and staying there, so comfortable and secure, that I didn't even notice when he left me.
I try not to feel so disappointed at this as I slide off my bed, and instead try to focus on being content with my victory over my nightmares. As I wash up in my bathroom I realize I only wanted to wake up with Jason under me, my body pressed against his, feeling his soft hair and feverish skin and hard muscles, and maybe share that victory. Because I didn't do it alone.
Regardless, I'm bouncy and well-rested and cheery, and I'm about to bound downstairs and make breakfast when a note taped to my bedroom door stops me in my tracks. I rip it down and examine the scrawl more closely - it's obviously Jason's handwriting, and it's telling me to Come downstairs dressed.
Huh? Confusion muddles my enthusiasm. I can't think of any reason why he'd want me to do this, but I do it anyway, since I have no choice but to follow his instructions. Besides, not knowing what he's planning is part of the thrill. I shower quickly. I brush out my thick waves underneath a beanie and put on some makeup, amazed that my signature smoky eye doesn't have any more bags to hide.
Downstairs, it smells strongly of coffee and I hear low voices coming from the kitchen. I force myself not to look too confused, but then right away I have to hide my expression of total surprise because Jason and Danny are sipping from mugs and having a conversation at the breakfast bar. When they laugh I'm completely taken aback. Caffeine, testosterone, humor? What in the hell is going on?
"Morning," I say to neither in particular, holding up my hand lamely. I kind of feel awkward and intrusive, like I'm interrupting their bro session or something.
Jason swivels in his chair and faces me, giving me a sort of private, mischievous grin. He's dressed in fresh clothes - a leather jacket over a grey hoodie and black skinnies - and his hair looks a little wet like he just showered. His black eye is barely noticeable - I guess the ice helped, and it's not as bad as I thought. Also, something he said on Halloween occurs to me suddenly: I keep clothes in my car. Never know when you're gonna need to spend the night somewhere.
Danny, who's standing behind the counter across from Jason, looks around him and nods at me. "Morning, Tess. We were just waiting for you to come down. How ya doing?"
"Good," I reply slowly, coming around the bar to stand beside Jason. Then, realizing that I need to play along with whatever scheme he fabricated, I clear my throat. "Great, actually. Hope I didn't keep you guys waiting too long."
"Nah," Jason assures me, hopping down from the bar stool. He finishes off his drink. "Besides, your brother makes really good coffee. Almost as good as you."
"Hey," Danny says in a playfully warning tone. "I taught her everything she knows."
"So did I," Jason replies with a smirk that's only wicked and seductive to me. There's a moment of silence between them and Danny raises an eyebrow, and I'm worried that something bad is about to happen, like Danny banning me from ever going out again. But then they both burst out laughing.
"Touché." My brother grins.
Jason returns it and looks over at me. "Ready?"
I blink and nod. Whatever they were talking about before I came down, they established enough trust to joke around with each other like that. Secretly I'm relieved. I'm sure that Jason will be around a lot more than he already is, so they better get used to each other now.
"Have fun. See you later, Tess," Danny says, giving us a wave as we make it out the front door.
As soon as we're outside in the sunny but brisk day, walking down to the curb, I glance at Jason with a question mark on my face. "What the...?" I say, gesturing to him and back to my house.
He unlocks his car and opens the passenger door for me. He leans on the top and smirks at me, his eyes alight with glee and mischief. "What? What are you asking me, TK?"
I settle in and wait for him to come around to his side. He switches the heat on low, turning the blades of the fan toward me, and starts driving like he doesn't have a care in the world.
"What just happened?" I ask, full of anticipation for some reason. I start to bite my lip, but stop myself soon after, and press them together instead.
"I woke up like an hour ago, got some clothes from my car, got dressed, left that note on your door, and came downstairs to wait for you," Jason explains like it's the simplest thing ever.
"So you stayed the whole night?"
He glances over at me. "Of course I did. I told you I wasn't leaving."
I feel myself smile, shy but grateful. "How am I not in trouble, then? You and Danny sound like you got a bromance going on."
He shakes his head amusedly. "He came downstairs a little while after I did, and I just told him you let me in and I was waiting for you to get dressed so I could take you to breakfast."
"And he bought it?"
"Yup. Made me coffee and everything. We were gossiping about cars and sports. And you." He throws me a grin.
I roll my eyes. "What about your car? Danny didn't see it when he came home from work?"
"Nope. I moved it down the street last night after I made sure you were asleep, then moved it back this morning so it looked like I just pulled up."
"Wow," I murmur. I'm truly impressed - and amazed that he came up with that and pulled it off. Danny's not stupid, but Jason executed that so well that even I believe it. "You're smooth, McCann."
He eases to a stop at a red light and peeks at me. "I've got experience. And you know what else is smooth?" He runs his gaze down my body appreciatively. "Your skin. And you smell like candy. I noticed for real last night when you were laying over me. Is it because of that sugar scrub stuff you have? I used some when I took a shower this morning."
I blink at him speechlessly until he chuckles and presses down on the gas as the light changes to green.
"You've slept in my bed and used my soap," I note, propping my elbow on the windowsill and looking at him with my head tilted. He's one of those boys that gets better-looking every time you see him, and I don't want to miss any opportunity to admire every part of him. "I don't think it gets any more intimate than that."
He keeps his eyes on the road through the windshield, but that mouth betrays his thoughts with one of his naughtiest smirks. "Oh, it does with me, baby girl. I'm just taking it slow with you."
My muscles clench with desire, and my skin grows hot, and my heartbeat accelerates. This time when I start to bite my lip I can't help it or stop myself. It's a nervous gesture, like running my hand through my hair or twisting my hands in my lap. And Jason McCann definitely makes me nervous. But he's also the reason I sleep at night.
"You better stop biting that lip," Jason warns as he makes a sharp turn. "It's driving me crazy."
"Why?" I wonder, my heart thudding in my chest.
"It's making me wonder what else that mouth do."
I swallow hard and push the heater away so it's not concentrated on me so much. Did it just get hotter in here, or is just me? He knows exactly what to say, when to say it, and the way he says it just hits a spot he hasn't even seen or touched. Yet.
"Where are you taking me?" I ask after a few moments of heated, sexually charged silence. I say it as if he's kidnapped me or something. Well, not kidnapped - that means it's against your will. He can take me wherever and whenever and however he wants.
"I really am taking you to breakfast. We gotta meet up with the crew and talk about last night."
"Oh. Right," I mumble, part of me sinking with disappointment. Before I came home and had a heartfelt conversation with Jason and fell asleep in his arms, that whole scene at the skate park happened. The recollection leaves a dry, bitter taste in my mouth, but I feel that this is a "win a battle, lose the war" situation. The Bangerz had the lead, but the Wreckers stole it last night. But like they said - it's our move.
"Don't worry, baby girl. We're gonna get them," Jason assures me, sensing my irritation. Or is it trepidation? I'm not going to pretend that I'm not a little scared. But I think of Mom and Dad, how they were determined and defensive in the face of danger, and how I'm eager to do the same. I want to be brave and fearless like the rest of my crew. Like my parents.
Jason pulls into a gas station and parks at a pump. Before he cuts the engine off or makes any move to get out, he gazes out the windshield like all his problems are in its view, and he wants to confront them head-on.
"Don't worry about the Wreckers," he says again, reassuringly.
"I'm - not. I'm just worried about what we're gonna do next. We have to be careful with our next move, whatever it is." I pause. "What is it, anyway?"
"Not sure yet. But... you have to fight fire with fire," he mutters thoughtfully, like he's telling himself this too. "Especially if you're the one that got burned first."
Lies and betrayal leave a nasty scar, I see. And even after it heals, and you try to forgive, you can never forget because the mark is permanent.
"Why not fight fire with water?" I wonder, hoping that I don't sound naïve. "So we can put out the flames for good?"
The corner of Jason's mouth twitches with the hint of a smile. "The damage has already started, so we might as well keep it up before we put the fire out. You get what I'm saying?"
I nod eventually. All hell has already broken loose. The fire was ignited several months ago, when Nina double-crossed the Bangerz for the Wreckers, and has been spreading quietly but rapidly ever since. Every time either crew struck a match - the Bangerz reclaiming the advantage, the Wreckers trashing the skate park, us pranking on their turf and screwing up their shipment, them calling a street battle and blackmailing us last night - the fire got bigger. Now it's a full-on house of flames, and we have to navigate our way out of it before it burns down.
"All I'm saying is," Jason concludes, finally twisting his key out of the ignition, "when this shit blows up... we're gonna be the ones who lit it."
I regard him with a mixture of awe and admiration. Our conversation on Halloween comes back to me unwittingly... and my imagination takes a dark turn. Gasoline trailing along the perimeter of a building; an ignited lighter striking the fluid; the flames dancing in wicked honey eyes as they rip across the gasoline trail and swallow the building until it burns down to the ground.
"Absolutely," I confirm, and he nods in approval before opening his door to get out. Not a second later I unfasten my seatbelt and put a restraining hand on his arm. "Wait. Let me pay."
He hikes an eyebrow. "No. What'd I tell you about giving me money? I got it, don't worry about it."
"Please, Sir Bizzle, I insist. It's the least I can do. Besides, I'm not giving you the money - I'm paying for the service myself. I guess that makes me the pimp, huh?"
He dips his head and presses his tongue against his cheek, clearly finding me adorable and funny, so I smile and get out of the car before he can stop me and walk bouncily into the food mart. When I come back out he's leaning against the gas tank. He's watching me closely as I return to his car, drifting his gaze down my figure and lingering appreciatively before traveling again. Once I stop beside him his eyes stay on my face and he looks at me like he's trying to figure something out.
"What?" I say.
"Nothing, just..." He removes the nozzle from the pump and fits it into his gas tank. After he glances at the screen to make sure it's filling up, he leans against his car again and looks down at me. "How are you feeling?"
His question catches me off-guard for some reason. "About what?"
"Just, in general."
"Oh. I'm good. I feel good. Relieved, and well-rested, and safe. Thank you for staying with me last night."
A smile tugs at one side of his mouth, and he reaches up to fold the front of my beanie back into its crease. "How'd you sleep?"
I cross my arms over my chest and lean forward so there's little space between us and I can smell his soap - my soap? - coming off his skin. I shrug innocently. "You tell me."
"You slept like a baby. Like my baby," he replies. Then, to emphasize his affectionate possession over me, he fronts me and gives me a kiss, pinning me by my hips. I flatten myself against his car as I kiss him back, soft and unabashed. Every other part of my body relaxes helplessly underneath and against his, as always with his commanding yet tender touch, and I'm flushed and breathless when he pulls away.
"How did you sleep?" I murmur after a moment, peeling myself off the car.
He returns the nozzle to the pump and gives me a devious look. "You tell me."
I follow him with my gaze as he smacks my thigh and gets back into the car. I bite my lip and smile to myself sort of privately, like I'm enjoying an inside joke. I bet he looks like a precious, adorable angel when he sleeps. No matter how much he tries to hide or deny it, he's capable of kittens-and-puppy dogs-and-hot chocolate-and-baked cookies cuteness.
About fifteen minutes later we pull into the parking lot of Denny's. It's Saturday morning, so it's kind of crowded, but when we get inside Za waves us over from a booth in the back. At the sight of my other three friends a pleasant warmth fills my chest and a smile lights up my face. Friendship first, then the gang stuff comes after and because of it.
"Hi, guys," I say to them, sliding into the empty side of the booth. Jason follows and drapes his arm along the back of it. He salutes his crew in greeting.
"What's good, ma," Khalil replies.
"You looking bright again," Za notes, nodding like he's satisfied - with himself. "Someone had a good night's - "
"Sleep," I finish, raising my eyebrows at him.
"That's exactly what I was gonna say."
"Anyway - hey, Tess." Miley stands from where she's wedged between Za and Khalil and reaches across the table to hug me. At first I'm surprised at the gesture, but when she sits back down there's concern in her expression. "Are you alright?"
"Oh, I'm..." Her worry yanks me back to realization, and I hesitate, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I'm good. I got really freaked out last night, but - I'm okay now."
I must not sound as convincing as I feel, because Khalil leans forward and holds out a hand like he's giving me the lowdown.
"Don't be scared of the Wreckers, Tess," he tells me. "Even with all the threats and blackmailing, they're still just punks. Because only punks or desperate people pull out guns in street battles, and they have no reason to be desperate. They're just blinded by rage and vengeance."
"Which makes them bold, evil, and harsh," Miley adds grudgingly. "So we just have to be the same... even if it means getting scary and losing control." She throws Jason a knowing glance.
Za unrolls his silverware. "No matter what we do, Tess, we always play fairly. But not anymore. You came in with us right when it got nasty, without warning. We gotta prepare you to fight dirty."
I blink, realizing that my crew is considering that I'm new to this, but are still willing to lead me. And they're not shaming me for getting spooked last night. If that's not having someone's back, I don't know what is. But I must correct them on what I'm afraid of - because it's definitely not them or the situation.
"Thanks, guys," I say, piling all my conviction into my voice. "But it's not y'all or what's about to happen between us and the Wreckers that scared me. It was the gun. I don't like them. Remember when I said I have - had - really bad nightmares?"
Miley, Za, and Khalil nod slowly, regarding me with cautious but understanding expressions.
I nod back, swallowing. "Yeah. That was because I've seen a hit-and-run..." Their eyebrows go upward in shock and surprise. "Of my parents," I finish tenderly.
Miley's lipsticked mouth pops open. "Oh, Tessa, I'm so sorry," she murmurs, placing her hand over mine.
Khalil dips his head sympathetically. "Sorry, ma."
"That's fucked up," Za observes, shaking his head and propping his elbows on the table. "But if it makes you feel any better, Tess, you are officially a thug. For being a witness instead of a victim in a drive-by."
"Za," Jason scolds, sending him a harsh look. I know he's only being sensitive for my sake - and showing an empathy only the two of us share, simply because we've lost parents.
"No, it's all okay," I assure him, and all of them really - I feel responsible for dissolving the tension that has settled over the group. It's Saturday morning, we're having breakfast together, and whatever dangers await us can do just that: wait. So I smile. "I've made peace with it. At first I was really scared, but now I'm gonna use it to make me more prepared. Besides," I add, peeking at Jason beside me, "I know the right way to hold a gun, too."
Miley, Za, and Khalil chuckle lightly, and a smile plays on Jason's lips. I lean toward him and he tightens his arm around me, tugging me closer.
"That's my girl," he whispers so only I can hear, kissing my hair.
A pretty, exotic-looking girl approaches our table then. She seems a little flustered at the chaos but is nevertheless professional as she introduces herself as Lena and takes our drink orders.
"Mimosas for all of us," Za announces, folding his arms behind his head. He grins at her. "'Cause we have reason to celebrate."
Lena smiles subtly. "So... Orange juice for all of you?"
Za makes a mock-offended expression. "Oh, man. We don't look the drinking age?"
"You guys are cute, but no. And we don't make mimosas here. This is Denny's, not the Hotel Laguna."
"They make mimosas there?"
"Yes."
"Okay, Lena. Imma go over there and order one, and if they don't give it to me I'm gonna tell them you sent me." He winks at her.
She puts her notepad down and rests her palms on the edge of the table, leaning toward Za. "I used to work there, hon. I know what they serve. And I made the best mimosas."
Our crew snickers, except Za, who pulls his lips into his mouth and looks at Lena with new interest. Jason tells her that orange juice is fine for all of us, and Za watches her back as she walks away.
"Could you be any more obvious?" Jason wonders, smirking.
"What, 'cause I winked? You and Kalfani got the smirk and the eyebrow raise, so I gotta have something. My thing is winking." He demonstrates, looking at Jason.
Jason shakes his head. "Don't wink at me like that, bro."
"Fine. Tess, Miley, look here." He turns to us individually and does the same thing, and we burst into a fit of giggles. He looks like he's blinking something out of his eye, but trying to be cool about it.
"It didn't work last night, Za, and it's not gonna work now," Miley says.
"It didn't work last night 'cause we were at a street fight," Khalil points out. "That ain't nowhere to spit game. This nigga will flirt any time and anywhere. He'll be dying and still looking for cake, and then say 'da booty' was his cause of death."
Our table explodes in laughter, especially when Za holds up his knife like he's going to stab Khalil and Lena returns with our drinks, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and horror. He puts it down slowly and grins at her, innocent. We were too busy yakking to even look at the menu, so Lena suggests a Homestyle Breakfast that comes with everything for us. Za flirts with her more (badly) before she leaves.
"So what did happen last night?" I ask curiously before Jason and Khalil can dog on Za any more. "After Jason and I left?"
"The Wreckers were pissy 'cause Jason pointed the gun at them, but they had nothing else to say," Khalil explains.
"They were just glaring at us and looking tough," Miley adds, rolling her eyes and twirling her straw. "And we went our separate ways."
"We cleared everyone out from the park after they left," Za tells us importantly. "And we got their word that they wouldn't repeat what they heard about Jason's dad."
"Some of José's crew was there, and Armani's gang, and a few people we're cool with from parties and drifting and stuff," Miley relates. "So we didn't have to worry about them keeping it under wraps. It was... the others."
"The others?" Jason hikes an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Za mutters grimly. "People came to the fight repping for either crew, but it was obvious after the gun show whose side everyone was on. We had to make sure that anyone who was against us kept their mouth shut."
"How?" I ask.
"We told them the same thing you told the Wreckers," Khalil answers with a determined sip of his orange juice. "If we find out they're running their mouths, we'll show them why we're called Bangerz. Snitches, traitors, gossipers - all of them better not show their face around us. Especially not now."
A reflective pause follows, and I wonder what the four of them are thinking. All I'm thinking of is our next move, so I ask them what that might be.
"Well, we can't tell my dad about Quavo," Jason decides, frowning regretfully. "They're gonna follow through with eliminating our contacts, 'cause that's the best thing they've ever had on us." He pauses. "That's the only thing they have on us."
"Right," Za agrees. "So what do we have on them?"
Miley puts her chin in her hand and pouts. "Nothing right now. We gotta find something to give us back the upper hand. We've blackmailed them before, and threatened them with ultimatums, and now they're just returning the favor."
"We need to give them a taste of their own medicine," Khalil declares, "that was ours in the first place."
"Unless - we don't give them anything... and take everything instead," I say slowly, an idea forming in my head. Everyone looks at me expectantly and my thoughts tumble out. "Think about it - they're coming for us with the one resource they have over us - Quavo's dad. That's the one thing giving them an advantage. So why don't we take out everything else that they have? Turf, allies, customers, whatever. That's exactly what they threatened us with. We go behind their backs and cut off every other strength they have, one by one. We do it sneakily and not all at once. That way, we don't violate their blackmail and keep our shit safe, too. Then when they've lost everything, the one thing they have now will be the only thing they have left."
I exhale, waiting anxiously for my crew to respond to the grand plan that literally just occurred to me. They nod slowly, considering the strategy, and when they start smiling deviously I know that they're down with it.
"That's a bang and burn, ma," Khalil says, sounding impressed. I look at him questioningly and he explains, "Damage and sabotage mission. That's spy gang shit."
"What, like CIA and ciphers and clandestine stuff?" I ask, intrigued, and he gives me a mischievous look.
"Yeah, the Msfts are into that."
"The Msfts?"
"They're our partners up in Calabasas," Za explains. "They always got our backs. They'll help."
"You'll meet them soon," Jason promises me. Then he refocuses on the matter at hand, speaking thoughtfully. "So we destroy their turf... convince their allies to switch allegiance, steal their customers, make them lose their respect..."
"And basically do what they're trying to do to us," Za states, catching on. "They ain't gon' see it coming either, 'cause they think they won already. They're too cocky and arrogant right now to think anything different."
"We never got cocky," Miley recalls, but she doesn't sound proud or boastful. Instead, she seems irritated and resentful, like their morality and humility was for nothing. "Even when we were clearly winning, we never did. Confident, yeah, but not arrogant."
"We might need to be this time," Jason says in a cool, reproachful tone. "When we finally get rid of everything they have, we have to confront them with a threat or warning, too."
Khalil nods agreeably. "And whatever it is, it has to be as cutthroat as theirs."
"Or else the whole revenge cycle is gonna start all over again," I mumble.
"And this ends now," Jason finishes.
We lapse into a silence again until my phone vibrates on the table, stirring the quiet. I glance at the screen and frown at the caller, but something tells me I should answer it.
"Excuse me, guys, I'll be right back," I say distractedly, crawling across Jason's lap. Once I'm outside, free of the noise in the restaurant, I pick up the call. "Hello?"
"Hey, Tess," Nina replies. She hesitates before continuing in an even voice, "I was just calling to make sure you were alright after last night."
I nudge some gravel with the toe of my boot. "I'm fine, Nina. Jason took me home and I calmed down and got some sleep." I close my eyes and sigh inwardly. "Thanks for... stepping in."
"I had to. I told Quavo not to bring the gun, but he's stubborn and insisted that we needed to make our point. I knew it was gonna get out of hand, and Jason can't control his temper." She sounds disapproving.
"He only snapped because things were getting personal," I defend, anger rising within me instantly. "And don't try to make this his fault. You're the ones who put everyone in danger by bringing the gun, and Jason wasn't gonna hurt me like y'all could have. Adrian didn't even know what he was doing."
"Tessa, are you blind? You think Jason would've stopped if I didn't step in? I didn't do that for us, I did that for you. He's dangerous and you haven't even seen the half of it."
"I'm not having this conversation with you again, Nina, and I already thanked you for what you did. But it doesn't change anything. I don't understand why you keep trying to push me out of this. I'm in, and I'm staying, whether you think I can handle it or not."
Nina doesn't reply for a few moments. When she does her voice sounds strange. "That's exactly what I think. That's why I've been so hard on you. The Bangerz are just using you, Tess, because you're innocent and easily manipulated."
"They're using me?" I shout in disbelief. "Like you used them? They're not lying to me, or betraying me, or ruining everything I have like you did. And you know what? You guys are so hell-bent on revenge for no reason. They didn't do anything to you!"
"Sure they did. They took away things that were important to us. And they still do. That's their problem - retaliation. Wanting to defend everything and everyone. Jason did the same thing last night, and he's gonna regret it."
I grit my teeth. "What are you talking about?"
"You wanna be in this, fine," she snaps. "Tell your crew to watch their backs tonight, 'cause you have no idea what 's coming. Quavo's pissed and he's just as bad as Jason when he wants to be. So watch yourselves. I'm done warning you." And then she hangs up.
I scowl at my phone before stalking back into the restaurant. When I return to the table our food is there and my friends are about to say grace. I plop down next to Jason agitatedly and join them.
"What's the matter?" he asks afterward, letting me crawl over him again.
I stab my pancakes. "That was Nina. I'll spare you the details of our argument, but she said we need to 'watch our backs tonight'," I mimick in a nasally tone.
"Huh?" Za snaps.
"I know, she's pretentious. I have no idea what she's talking about."
"Let's just stay together tonight," Jason suggests, furrowing his brow in suspicion. "And be on the lookout."
"What are we gonna do?" I ask.
Jason glances over at me and seems to make a decision. "I'm taking you to the dance."
"But I have to work."
"I know. I'm still taking you. Then when your shift starts I'll take you to the coffee shop and stay until you're done. I'm not letting you out of my sight tonight."
I smile gratefully and scoot closer to him again, and he drops his arm from the back of the booth to around my waist.
"You guys are so cute!" Miley exclaims, like she's been wanting to say it for a long time and can't hold it any longer.
Despite the serious business we have to take care of, and our overall annoyance at the sitation, we manage to have a nice, fun breakfast together. Jason takes me home afterward and I spend some time with Danny and Anna at the house, feeling very content and energetic for the first time in a while. The day goes by fast, but in a good way, and before I know it I'm getting dressed for the night. I didn't bother finding out the theme for the dance, so I just put on a white body-con minidress, fishnets, and black high-heeled booties. I straighten my hair again, which still has its rich chocolate shade, and put on some red lipstick. I think I look pretty damn good.
When the doorbell rings Danny and Anna are watching movies in the den but leave to give Jason and me privacy. I'm stunned when I open the door - one, because he's wearing a white button-down and black blazer rolled up at the elbows; two, because he whistles under his breath as his gaze runs over my body slowly; and three, because he's holding a vibrant bouquet of blood red roses.
"What are these for?" I ask quietly, taking them as he hands them to me. They smell fresh and earthy and slightly sweet.
"Your parents. You know, people bring flowers for sympathy and condolences."
I crush them to my chest gratefully before setting them aside. "I'll put them in water when I get home. Thank you."
He shrugs like it's no big deal. "And this is for you." He brings out a corsage of the same rose petals and fastens it around my wrist. Then he tugs me toward him, resting his hands on the small of my back and smirking appreciatively. His eyes trail down my dress, over my chest and hips pressed up against his, then back up to my face. "I like you in white, baby girl."
"I like you in everything," I say, a bit breathless.
He chuckles and ropes his arm around my waist, walking me out. "Wait till you see me in nothing."
My cheeks turn as red as the rose on my wrist, and he laughs some more.
*****
Luckily we fit in with the theme of the dance because it's simply Black & White. Everything in the gym is starkly decorated: black and white balloons, streamers, tablecloths, cups, plates, backdrops, and spotlights from the revolving disco balls hanging from the ceiling. It's kind of cheesy, but in a charming, high school-y way, and I'm glad we came. We're seniors and might as well live it up while we can.
Unfortunately, the music isn't so great when we arrive, so the team and I just end up hanging around at a table and joking about spiking the punch. At least we look good - Miley's wearing a tailored white pantsuit and Za and Khalil are in blazers and skinnies like Jason. People, as usual, give us glances of jealousy, respect, and curiosity, and I can't help but laugh out loud when Stacey walks by and rolls her eyes at me. It's my only source of entertainment.
"You should've been the DJ," Miley mutters to Khalil. "We should just go smoke on the football field. This dance is weak as f - "
Suddenly the beat to Jason Derulo's "Talk Dirty" drops, cutting Miley off, and everyone rushes to the middle of the gym. The energy and excitement of the dance flares up.
Jason smirks and looks at me expectantly. I don't even say anything - I don't need to - as he takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor. After the jazzy refrain in the beginning finishes he starts wiggling and mouthing the words as he pulls me towards him.
"I'm that flight that you get on/ International/ First class seat on my lap, girl/ Ridin' comfortable..."
I can't take him seriously, and this song cracks me up anyway, so I turn around, my back to his front, and pop my hips rhythmically to the beat. When the trumpet in the chorus blares I bend at the waist and shake and sway, talking dirty alright. Jason seems to like it, because he yanks me closer and keeps his hands on me, and I don't mind. When the song is over we're laughing and he spins me around quickly so we're crushed against each other.
"Damn, baby girl," he says with a wicked smirk. "You keep surprising me."
The end of "Talk Dirty" segues into "Can't Remember To Forget You" and I smirk back at him. "My turn," I challenge, shimmying and starting to mouth the words to this one too.
"I left a note on my bedpost/ Said not to repeat yesterday's mistakes... The way you make feel yeah, you got a hold on me/ I never met someone so different/ Oh here we go/ You're part of me now/ You're part of me/ So where you go, I follow follow follow..."
I front Jason again and lead him into a kind of salsa, guiding him with my hips and grinding them against his. Whether he's just standing and complimenting me or moving with me and the rhythm, the boy can dance - what can't he do? I just like that this is another thing that brings us closer: physically - our bodies pressed against each other - mentally - the both of us moving in perfect sync - and emotionally - we're always somehow in tune to each other's thoughts and ideas. It's just something about music and close contact and good vibes that intensifies our attraction.
This time when the song ends Jason pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around my middle and holding me, owning me. Feeling my heart beat fast against his chest, I rest my hands on his shoulders, and he looks down at me like he doesn't want me to go anywhere - and if anyone tries to take me he won't let it happen. For a moment it's like we're the only ones in the room, so wrapped up are we in each other's arms and eyes, and I think he's going to kiss me. Then he gives me a small, almost reluctant smile, and his hands move up my back so he can glance down at his watch.
"Shit," he mutters.
"What is it, babe?" I frown.
"Time to take my meds. I need to get them from my car."
"Oh." I'm relieved it's nothing serious - I thought something was wrong. "Go ahead. Do you want some punch?"
He smirks, turns me around, and smacks my butt so scandalously that I flush and bite my lip as I hurry off. At the punch table I just feel kind of dizzy with wicked glee and daring naughtiness only Jason McCann can stir within me, but when I sway and spill one of my drinks, it's not because of that - it's because Stacey's bitch ass bumps me from behind.
My mouth twists in annoyance and I whirl to face her. "Excuse you."
"Excuse yourself," she jeers. "And Jason, too. You two really need to get a room."
"Really? That's the best you can come up with?" I laugh in disbelief. "Give it up, Stacey, and get over yourself. You don't wear jealousy well."
"I pull it off better than you pull off this whole good girl gone bad act. You're so fake." Her expression is one of disgust. "You told Natalie and me that you'd never be friends with Jason."
I shrug. "He's not my friend. He's my boyfriend. And if I remember correctly, you said that whatever he saw in me wouldn't last." I pause and gesture to myself casually. "What do you call this?"
"Sexing yourself up," Stacey replies haughtily, "just to get the hottest guy in school. That makes you look like an easy bitch."
I snort - her insults just aren't affecting me like she thinks they are. "Says the girl in the skanky dress." Then I splash my other drink on her so it stains the front of her tiny white halter dress. "There, now it's see-through. You were basically showing everything anyway - which isn't much, honey."
Then I grab two new cups and stalk away from the punch table. I scan the room for Jason and find him standing at the row of bleachers pulled out on one side of the gym. Did he even leave?Miley, Za, and Khalil are sitting around him, watching with tense, anxious expressions, and I see that he's on his phone. When I reach them he hangs up and throws it so it skitters across the hard floor.
"Fuck!" he seethes, kicking the bleachers in agitation.
I'm stunned at his sudden mood change but realize that something really is wrong now. My throat goes dry.
"What is it?" I ask them, my voice ringing with alarm. "What happened?"
"José's dead," Za mumbles through gritted teeth.
"He was our main dealer, ma," Khalil explains when he sees my horrified expression. "He knew the risk and that people were always coming after him -"
"But not the Wreckers," Miley adds in a defeated voice. "They did it - or one of Tony's men did it. Whatever. They made it happen. Because we retaliated last night."
"That's - that's what Nina was talking about earlier," I realize, feeling a little sick. Dread courses through me.
"This is all my fault," Jason declares in a raw voice. His fists and jaw muscles clench rigidly, but I can see him shaking with the beginnings of an uncontrollable rage - and a depressive spell.
"No. Jason, listen to me. It's not your fault." I set the drinks aside and place my hands on his upper arms. He relaxes slightly at my touch but starts shaking his head like he can't listen. I reach up and hold his face in my hands so he'll look at me; his eyes are blazing. "It's not your fault," I repeat in a whisper.
"Then why do I feel like it is? Why do I feel like everything is? I should've warned him tonight - I should've warned everyone we know." He grimaces. "This is all my fault."
I don't know what to say to him, and I think that's a sign that I don't need to say anything at all. My heart lurches painfully, because I know that this is his depression talking: taking the blame for everything and anything, putting the world on his shoulders no matter how heavy it gets. I think this ounce of news is too much to handle, though, because a long moment passes before he shuts his eyes and sits on the lowest bleacher like he's sagging with the weight.
Carefully, I sink down into his lap and he presses his forehead against my shoulder, disappointed and detached. I stroke his hair and the five of us just sit there together silently, stunned and subdued. It's not like we didn't believe the Wreckers' warning. But we didn't expect their first strike to hit so close to home.