Trouble From the Start Read online

  “Don’t you care about the environment?” I scolded him.

  “You’re not one of those, are you?” he asked.

  Ignoring his question, I walked over to the bushes, crouched, and tried to see into the darkness, but I suddenly felt light-headed and dropped to my butt.

  Fletcher hunkered beside me, balancing on the balls of his feet, his forearms resting on his jean-clad thighs. How did he manage that? I’d bet money he’d already swigged down way more than I had. “You okay?”

  “Yes, just—” I realized that I’d finished off my drink. Everything suddenly looked far away, like I was viewing it through a tunnel. The cup slipped from my fingers and onto the grass.

  “You need some fresh air,” he said.

  “We’re outside,” I pointed out. “It doesn’t get any fresher than that.”

  His fingers folded around my elbow and I was struck by how large his hand was, how strong, how warm against my skin. With no effort at all, he helped me to my feet. “It’s better by the lake.”

  He curled his arm around my shoulders, pulled me in just a little, and I had this insane thought that we fit together like pieces of a puzzle. I liked his height compared to mine. He made me feel normal, when I often felt like a giant. He guided me over the uneven expanse of land that led down to the lake. When we reached the bank, he didn’t release his hold, and while I wouldn’t admit it to him, I was grateful because suddenly nothing seemed solid beneath my feet.

  I knew I’d had too much alcohol too fast on a too-empty stomach. Snacks weren’t nearly as abundant around here as the drinks.

  “Take a deep breath,” Fletcher ordered.

  I did, and I could smell the brine of the lake, the sweetness of the wildflowers, the dankness of the dirt, and Fletcher. His was an earthy fragrance, nothing artificial, all male. With his arm around me, he was overpowering my senses, until he was almost the only thing I was aware of.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” There did seem to be more air here. I could hear the breeze stirring the leaves in the trees around us, feel it wafting over my skin. I turned slightly in his embrace until we were nearly facing each other. His nearness was making me dizzy. His hand came up to cradle the back of my head, and he settled my face into the crook of his shoulder. I had that same crazy faraway thought that we fit. I could hear his heart pounding—felt it thumping through his chest, sending tiny little shivers over my face.

  “Don’t drink if you can’t handle your liquor,” he said, his voice low enough that it didn’t disturb the chirping crickets. “There is always some guy willing to take advantage.”

  “Like you?” I asked.

  “Exactly like me.”

  I didn’t know why I had this crazy thought that if he leaned down to kiss me, I wouldn’t object. He had a reputation for being an amazing kisser. But he wasn’t leaning in. Was I really so unappealing that even a guy with no standards wouldn’t at least try? Still, I felt obligated to say, “Taking advantage of me would be stupid. My dad’s a cop. He carries a gun.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  I thought I heard sadness, secrets, in his voice, but that made no sense. Nothing made sense. I was having a difficult time thinking, trying to remember why I was out here at the lake with Fletcher Thomas. The world was spinning, fast, so terribly fast, from his nearness, his scent, his warmth—

  No, I realized with horror. Not from anything to do with him. From the vodka and whatever else had been mixed into the drinks. I shoved myself away from him and, to my everlasting mortification, I hurled.

  Okay, so I’d lied earlier. I was a novice at drinking. I’d had a few sips of beer at other parties, but when your dad keeps a Breathalyzer kit in his car, it’s not a good idea to come home in a state that might cause him to use it.

  A large, warm hand came to rest lightly on my back. It traveled up my spine and down.

  “Breathe deep.”

  “Deeply,” I forced out through my tingling mouth.

  “What?”

  “Deeply. Adverbs follow verbs.”

  “Seriously? You’re giving me a grammar lesson in the middle of your barfing?”

  With as much dignity as I could muster, I straightened. “I’m finished.”

  And horrified that I’d made such a spectacle of myself in front of him.

  “I’ll give you a ride home,” he said.

  Everything in me screamed, “Bad idea!”

  Or maybe I was screaming it out loud because he said, “Look, I won’t take advantage of you being drunk. Besides, your dad has a gun.”

  With a wry smile, I peered over my shoulder at him. The world wasn’t spinning as fast, but I still felt awful. I wanted to go home. I could probably find Kendall, talk her into leaving the party. Jeremy would take us to her house, and from there, I could walk past the six houses to mine. But why spoil her evening just because drinking too fast had spoiled mine?

  “You’ve been drinking,” I pointed out. On second thought, so had Jeremy. I was going to have to call a cab.

  “I’m fine to drive.”

  Bad-boy Fletcher, not drunk? I didn’t think so. I backed up a couple of steps. “Close your eyes and walk toward me in a straight line.”

  “Any line I walk is going to look crooked to you, because you’re the one who’s drunk.”

  That was probably true. Maybe. I was finding it hard to think coherently. And I didn’t really want to explain arriving home in a cab. “Yeah, okay, I’d appreciate it.”

  He gave me a long look and that corner of his mouth hitched up again. “So . . . are you a novice at riding a motorcycle?”

  I considered lying, but I was past the point of thinking anything I did was going to impress him. Not that I wanted to. “It’ll be my first time.”

  His grin grew wider. “I like taking girls on their first ride.”

  I flushed. I didn’t want to think about how I was one of many he’d given a ride to. Besides he was just being nice because he knew I wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t like he was interested in me or anything. I’d just hurled in front of him, after all.

  As we walked toward the front of the house, I tried to fire off a text to Kendall to let her know I was leaving. It was easier than trying to find her. Or it should have been. My fingers kept hitting the wrong keys. Normally I could text and walk at the same time. Not tonight. I staggered to a stop and started over.

  “What are you doing?” Fletcher asked.

  “I need to let Kendall know I’m heading home so she isn’t looking for me later. Dang it! Stupid autocorrect.”

  “Dang it?” He chuckled. “Such harsh language, Grandma. Give it here.”

  He plucked my phone from me. In spite of the fact that his hands were much larger than mine, his fingers thicker, he didn’t seem to have any trouble typing. I heard the swoosh of a message being sent. He handed the phone back to me and I glanced at the screen.

  Hot guy giving me ride. Catch U l8r.

  I released a tiny shriek. “That’s not what I wanted to say. And you’re so not hot.”

  “It’s eighty degrees out. Course I’m hot.”

  His hand rested lightly on the nape of my neck, and he led me over to an assortment of coolers near the patio. Some guys standing nearby hooted, whistled, and gave him a thumbs-up.

  “What’d you do?” I asked.

  “What?” Fletcher asked.

  I made a half-wave toward the guys. “They seem excited for you.”

  “They’re drunk idiots. They get excited about everything.”

  Ignoring them, he reached into a cooler and handed me a bottle of water. As we continued on, I swished water around my mouth and spewed it out a couple of times before drinking. It was nice to get rid of any lingering aftertaste from my embarrassing performance by the lake. When we got to where his motorcycle waited, he took the bottle and dropped it into a nearby trash can.

  “The environment thanks you,” I told him.

  “Don’t make a big de