Thirteen Hours To You Read online

  “I’m sorry,” I scoffed sarcastically. “I wasn't aware I answered to anyone, let alone someone who'd purposely stand in front of another human wearing a John Legend t-shirt like it's okay.”

  He thew his head back with a laugh, eyes dancing with a light I’d never seen. It was kind of unnerving. Usually, if I challenged a guy on anything, I'd automatically be labeled a bitch, which wasn't completely inaccurate. But still.

  This weirdo, he just grinned at me, unwavering, and held out his hand. “I’m Meekai. My friends just call me Kai.”

  I looked at his extended hand. For some reason, I didn't want to use a self-defense maneuver to disable him and put him on his ass. I refused to take his hand though. I'd learned early on that showing interest was showing weakness, and I wasn't looking for another reason to despise men in general.

  “Well,” I met his chocolate brown eyes as I ran my blue ones over him from top to toe, “If I ever happen to come across you again, if there's ever a need to address you, I'll call you Meekai. I'm sure your mother didn't give you that name just so others could half-ass it by calling you Kai.”

  “If it helps, my mama used to call me Kai. If she was prepared to half-ass it, then I'm positive she would've been cool with you destroying a perfectly good name. In the name of friendship, of course.” He winked.

  Really? A wink? What year was this? Why did guys think it was still an acceptable form of flirting?

  “I’m sure your mama’s great,” I deadpanned, staring up at him. I tried to look as bored and disinterested as my resting bitch face could conjure. “You’ll have to give me her number so I can be sure to text her a thank you.”

  He looked away from me for an instant, his smile gone, seemingly gathering himself, and I wasn't really sure why. Meeting my eyes again, his smile returned, though his eyes seemed darker.

  “I'm sure she would've loved to hear from you, but her number was disconnected about a year ago.”

  Ugh! Where was this pointless conversation going? I'd left the noise and bullshit of the party back there to come and pull myself together before I left, not talk to some strange dude about his mama. I was never going to see him again, and I was tired and losing my already frazzled patience.

  “Look, Meekai? I'm sure your mama's great, and more power to her for disconnecting from the world, ‘cause trust me, I get her jam, but I don't know you, and I don't care about her. This is a pointless interaction. Please, can you just leave me alone?”

  I turned, trying to face away from him, scraping the undersides of my bare thighs on the fallen tree I was perched on. My denim skirt barely covered me, catching on the bark. I winced as I tried to daintily detach myself, looking over to him, positive he got a good look up my skirt. I bowed my head, mortified. No doubt my face was the perfect shade of embarrassment.

  “Look, I don't mean any harm. Are you okay? You look like you might've hurt yourself,” he said, taking a step toward me.

  Frustrated, and more than embarrassed, I'd officially found the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. I snapped back around and winced again as I rubbed on the already raw skin.

  “Please, just back off! I'm sure you just witnessed the goods, and I'm also pretty sure the fucktards back at the party sent you here to pretend like you were concerned. Maybe even get me to trust you. That way, we could go back to the party, me feeling all safe and shit. Hardy and all his Stepford husbands and hoes might even play along for shits and giggles. I know how this works. I'm not going to fall for whatever this is you’re trying to pull. Go back and tell pin-dick that he should sort his shit out. I’ve got more than one thing on him, and if I have to use it, I will. Be sure to pass it on, ‘kay? He’ll know what I’m referring to, but just in case he needs a refresher, feel free to remind him I know about the Chlamydia and will be happy to inform the rest of the school. It’s the least I can do.” I scoffed.

  Looking back up at Meekai, his mouth was slightly ajar. He gaped at me as if I'd lost my mind, curiosity etched in the lines of his confusion. Was he amused?

  This was when I'd usually get told that I was a bitch; that I was ugly and could use a tune-up in the body department. It was always the same insults.

  As I ran over all the typical scenarios in my head, I did the usual, silent countdown.

  Four.

  Three.

  Two.

  And . . .

  What? He was bent over . . . laughing? The loudest and most obnoxious laugh I think I'd ever heard. He actually snorted; doubled over in hysterics as tears slipped down his cheeks. My mouth hung open, thoroughly confused and unsure of what to do.

  He grabbed his waist with his hands and tried to right himself and catch his breath. As soon as he'd seemed to gather himself, he burst into a second fit of laughter. I wasn't hanging around to be made fun of. Obviously, I was a joke, and for all I knew, Hardy and his clones were probably hidden behind the dispersed trees filming this shit to put online.

  I stood, grabbed my purse from off the ground, and began to walk back to my car, further away from the party and as fast as my combat boots would carry me. I'd already changed schools for my senior year to avoid this humiliation, hoping I could play out the last year of high school incognito. The last thing I needed was another rumor to follow me out of this town and into a new one.

  I wanted a fresh start; I couldn't risk something happening tonight that could easily reach the distance I was putting between here and my new school. I needed the noise to disappear. I wanted to be nameless. I was almost there.

  I picked up the pace and internally berated myself as I headed for my metallic baby blue convertible 67’ Mustang; one of the good things in my life. The one reliable thing, excluding the humans I loved.

  As I dug one hand in my purse for the keys, I caught sight of Betty.

  Yeah, I’d named my car. Dad always said you should name the things that mean the most to you. That if you gave something a name and a purpose, the more likely you'd be to keep that thing in your life. I wanted to keep the Mustang, so I named her. And right now, she was my get the fuck outta dodge, ticket to freedom. To escape this loon who, I could hear, was apparently finished laughing and quickly catching up to me.

  “Oh, no you don't,” I shouted behind me as I powered forward. The undergrowth of the forest floor caught on my ankles, and the humid night air clung to my uncovered arms. I just wanted to get to Betty, get home, bury myself in my comforter with a good book and pretend that the last two years hadn’t happened, let alone the last hour.

  Lesson? The inner self is an individual’s only true compass. It contains the power to recognize the good, the bad, and the hell no! This was a mistake. What was I thinking? Was what I’d done worth the risk? I didn't know, but I did know that I wanted to be anywhere but here. I'd even settle for prison and a cellmate ironically named Tiny.

  I’d only ever been to one high school party and that was unintentional. Until now. In the name of friendship and camaraderie, I had finally agreed to say goodbye to Adalita High and all the bad memories by attending the last party of the summer before senior year. Before I left this hell for good.

  Lucy convinced me I’d be facing my fears head-on, that I wasn’t “to worry,” she and Flynn would never leave me alone. She’d stated, and I quote, “Dude, I promise, in the name of the Gucci slides that I bribed outta my stepfather, Richard. F. McConnel, along with the matching blinged-out sunglasses that retail for just under a thousand stripper dollars. I. WILL. NOT. LEAVE. YOU.”

  I’d finally agreed. I knew her swearing on anything Gucci was more solid than if she swore on the life of her own mother. Her mother was as present as the sun at night, and her stepfather was Lucy’s cash flow, his sloppy cheating habits kept him indebted to her. Even so, I told her that if she left me to those idiots like bait, if she left for any reason, I’d burn her Gucci slides and sunglasses.

  It seemed alcohol and overactive hormones outweighed promises. Thirty minutes in she disappeared with Flynn, down th
e basement and away from me. The same basement that held the echoes of my secret. So, in the name of Gucci and all she holds dear, it looked like there would be a bonfire tomorrow. Slides. Shades. Lighter fluid. Check!

  Remembering why I hated this small town and the pack mentality had me stomping like a toddler and swinging my arms around like weapons. I was fuming.

  “Go back and tell your little friends the eternal joke of Adalita refuses to stay around and stimulate the few brain cells they have left. I'm outta here asshole!” I could hear his heavy breaths as he closed in, so I searched blindly around my purse for the mace Gamma Milly got me.

  “Sugarnuts, this is for takin’ down the lil’ bastards who I can't deal with directly. But I’ll be more than happy to hear about the day you blind them with this can of whoop-ass. Make me proud, baby girl! Remember, I'm always good for bail money. Call Gamma first. I don't ask as many questions as your father.”

  The mace was actually called “Can of Whoop Ass.” Grandma, or Gamma Milly as she was affectionately known, was life, my best friend. I had few people in my life, and I held them close. Next to Dad, Gamma, and Wyatt, my closest unrelated friend was Becca Summers. Her parents and mine had been best friends their whole lives growing up in Everlee Falls, Georgia, and it was only fitting that we were close, too.

  Mama was Gamma's baby girl, and she was the strength that kept me together when she died. She was the one person who kept me anchored. She was a full breath in a panic attack. My calm in the storm. I ached for the day I got to tell her I blinded, if only temporarily, some little jack-off who took it upon themselves to terrorize me for sport. She deserved any happiness I could afford her, and if pepper-spraying a random asshat would give her a smile for a minute, and a story to tell at the women's league every Thursday night for weeks to come, then I'd happily give her that.

  I finally felt the small, cold can touch my fingertips. I stopped mid stomp and turned around to face the first moron I would ever temporarily blind with a Can of Whoop Ass. Finally, I’d have a casualty to report back to Gamma. Sweet vindication!

  “I suggest you pull back, soldier. I have a can of mace here with Kai written all over it. It says that a successful dispensing distance is about eight to ten feet, which means you’re roughly another three feet from me getting trigger happy.” With that, he froze mid-stride. Smart move, tiny dancer.

  Again, the smirk was back. On all that is holy . . . Why? More to the point, why did I feel like he wasn’t one of Hardy’s imitation knock offs? And . . . “Why are you looking at my chest like it has a for sale sign attached to it?” I questioned, one hand on my hip, the other holding the can of blinding pain that was pointed in his direction.

  His smirk turned to a big toothy grin; his perfect white teeth looked like those glow in the dark stickers I used to stick to my bedroom ceiling as a kid. The same stickers I had to remove one by one when the house went up for sale.

  “Actually, I’m a little preoccupied with the warning attached to the for sale sign.” He pointed directly at my chest and raised his eyebrows in a see gesture, which immediately directed my own eyes to where he was pointing. I was wearing my typical slogan tee, you underestimate me, emblazoned across my chest.

  “Nice shirt. You Underestimate Me, ha? Do you always walk around with character assessments that serve as a warning crudely displayed across your chest?”

  What a nerve. What a complete dick!

  “Actually, I do. Let it serve as your third and final warning, and leave me alone.”

  The sooner I left for Gamma Milly’s and a fresh start for senior year in Everlee Falls, the sooner there would be a healthy eight-hundred and fifty plus miles put between me, Adalita, and my past.

  I lowered my hand and dropped the mace back into my purse. Not today, Gamma.

  Saying nothing, I turned and headed back towards Betty. Arguing with a stranger wasn’t going to change anything but my mood, and that was long gone.

  “Why the second guess on the mace assault?” I heard the smile in his voice and asked myself the same question. I should've blinded him. “Are you going to tell me your name?” he asked.

  I slowed my pace and came to a stop. “I’m pretty sure you know my name. I’m sure you know all about me. Stop, please. The dumb, ignorant act makes you look stupid and insults my intelligence. Go back to Hardy and his minions and tell him whatever it is he wants to hear. I’ll even sign off on it if you like. I’ll be sure to send a typed out, notarized document detailing all of tonight’s events. Will you be needing a blood sample and photographic evidence? If so, you’re shit outta luck.”

  I looked over my shoulder to see his face lit up by the moon, like he was under a spotlight; the forest his stage. The smile hadn’t moved. It was still there, as patronizing as ever.

  “Actually,” he began, “are you even wearing panties? A thong, to be specific. I was supposed to come back with a pair of used panties. Hardy and his Stepford husbands and hoes, was it? They’re planning a sacrificial burial and are desperate for a pair. Apparently, the god of douchery will give them an extra cock inch if I bring back a G-banger.” His smile got even bigger, if that was possible.

  What the actual fuck? Was this guy serious? I couldn’t help it, I felt my lips roll into one another, stifling a smile. “A G-banger? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Sorry. My friend had an Australian exchange student stay with him last year, and he couldn’t stand me using the word thong. A thong is a flip flop down there. Did you know that?”

  I couldn't help myself, I turned around to face him and shook my head. He took that as an invitation to continue to educate me.

  “I just kept picturing a flip flop stuck up someone’s ass. I mean, tell me that’s not what you’re picturing right now.” I stared blankly back as he continued, “What we call a thong, they call a G-string, or a G-banger, his preferred term. It kinda stuck.”

  “Do you ever shut up?” I quipped.

  “With you, it seems I can’t. I’ll do anything to keep you here. You’re way more interesting than the debaucherous circus of fuckery that’s taking place over there.” He pointed at the party while staring back at me with an amused smile. “Even if it is to hear you tell me to fuck off and threaten me with a can of mace. It’s actually kind of sad. Most guys would’ve left by now. Put you in the too-hard basket.”

  I rolled my eyes and tilted my head towards the heavens, searching for some divine guidance. I came tonight to show myself I could, to leave a message of the most destructive kind; a calling card for him. I was also here to get Lucy off my case. Yet here I stood, arguing with a guy I didn’t know. It was only a matter of time until I was tracked down and I needed to get out of here sooner rather than later. I wasn't leaving without feeling some sense of control; without ruining him because he’d all but destroyed me.

  I redirected my line of sight from the heavens and back to Kai. “You’re right, most guys would’ve put me in the too-hard basket, so why don’t you do yourself a favor and leave? There’s nothing for you here.”

  He let out a resigned huff. “Look, I’ve got nothing to do with Hardy. I don’t associate with him. I just saw you inside, and I'd never seen you before. Then I watched you beeline for the woods. It's dark out here. You shouldn't have come alone.”

  “I can look after myself, John Legend, don't fret. Sitting in the dark is the least of my worries.” I cocked a brow. “Kill my curiosity. If you don't associate with Hardy, what are you doing here? Did you come for the free beer or the free ass strewn like confetti across the ten thousand square feet of obnoxious monstrosity these people call a home?

  “You’re not making this easy, are you?” He smiled an easy smile at me, scratching his jaw and shifting on the spot.

  “I wasn't aware this was supposed to be easy, or supposed to be anything, for that matter. I came here to get away from there. I should never have come, and now it's time I leave.”

  “So, what
? You're just leaving like that? At least give me your name. How else am I supposed to find your number? It's not below me to sleuth it and ask around until someone gives up your digits.”

  “If I gave you my number it would suggest I want you to call me, which I don't. You'd also be hard-pressed to find someone in there who even knew my number. If I gave you my name, it would also suggest interest on my part, and stalker issues and probable cause for a restraining order on yours. Neither sounds appealing. In fact, they both feel like a big fat goodbye.”

  As I began to turn, I felt his hand gently grab my elbow. Meeting his eyes in shock, I yanked out of his grip as I backed up. He looked right at me, determined. Once he’d clearly got my attention, he backed up and began to speak.

  “That’s the thing with goodbyes, sometimes they’re a second chance.” I looked at him, confusion apparent, so he continued, “Sometimes goodbyes lead to a second chance. If I see you again, it’ll mean that this goodbye was meant as a beginning, not an end. Fate. The first point of contact.”

  Okay. I was even more confused, and it didn’t help that I could still feel his touch. It didn’t help that his touch felt like I liked it. Like he imprinted himself on my flesh in a way that wasn't a threat, but a promise; a promise that left me curious. This was a first. This was confusing.

  He continued, rousing me from my thoughts, “Ok, I can see you’re not buying this. Before you reach for your purse again, let me explain.”

  But that was the thing. I didn’t need him to explain. Goodbyes were the one thing I knew well. The back of someone as they walked away, structural damage to the foundation of my heart. I glared at him, and he shifted on the spot, a move I knew well. I happened to make people uncomfortable regularly, just with a look. I wasn’t proud of it. In fact, I kind of hated it but it was a look established over time, over a thousand different moments, each one dealt to break me. I had to look stronger than I felt.