Page 9 of Full Out Fiend

I didn’t make it inside. But the teasing never came, either.

He offered to drive me to school that morning, and he even stopped at Jersey Bagels on the way. The freedom that came with having a friend with a car—having a way to get to school that wasn’t the bus or begging my mom for a ride—was blissfully beautiful.

I took solace in his presence. In the way he’d make me smile when I was on the verge of tears because of something my mom said about my outfit or my hair. He wore too much body spray. His car was cloyingly sweet. It should have been nauseating. But given the alternative, I found comfort in the scent—in his car—in his company.

But was he really that great? Or was he just better than what I was used to?

I didn’t like him in any romantic sense at first. But when he asked me to the homecoming dance, I was afraid to say no. I didn’t want things to change between us. He was my safe space, my lifeline to and from school, a way to assert my independence.

I agreed to go to the dance with him that fall. Then I let him kiss me before he dropped me off at home. By the winter formal, we were officially dating. And by prom, we were inseparable.

Our relationship progressed slowly, in a way I thought was natural. But in hindsight, I can see that I was going through the motions: checking the boxes and unexpectedly planning a future with someone who was comfortable and convenient.

I’ll never forget the first time he brought up the topic of marriage.

He was at his cousin’s wedding, and he was drunk off his rocker. He called me that night and told me that he knew I was the one for him. I was only a senior in high school, but the thrill of his words—the thrill of beingwanted—filled me with so much warmth.

I had never felt cherished like that before.Valued.

I’m not sure I’ve felt that wanted since—until now.

I blow out a deep breath, struggling to muster the excitement—and arousal—that coursed through me in the alley just a few minutes ago.

I never do things like this, but I’m doing it tonight.

I’m doing it with Fielding.

Butterflies of anticipation flutter in my stomach as I think about the man who’s had me in a trance for the last half hour.

He’s gorgeous. Like ridiculously good looking. Tall—really tall—with a head of messy blond waves and striking blue eyes. Big, strong hands that left a trail of tingles everywhere he touched. A smirk that made all my feminist ideals leach out of my brain and left me swooning.

He’s the type of guy I’ve always thought was out of my league. But he was laying it on thick out in that alley. Every word, every action, even though he was propositioning me, felt sincere.

He likes what he sees—he made that abundantly clear. And I like this version of me, too. Especially tonight. Tonight, I’m taking back control and climbing into the driver’s seat of my own life.

I gulp down the familiar flavor of self-consciousness. I’ve worked too hard to let self-sabotaging thoughts ruin this.

I’ve already made my decision.

This won’t go down in history as the day Anthony cheated on me with a prostitute in Vegas.

This will be the night I finally stood up for myself and took back my power.

Fingers wrapped around the door handle, I glance back at my bridal party one more time. They’re hanging off bar stools and making a scene on the dance floor. Not one glanced my way when I came back inside, so I doubt they’ll realize I’m gone.

Serena catches my gaze and offers me a mock salute, banishing any lingering hesitation and sending me off with a little boost of courage. I push open the front door of the bar, then stride a few steps to the left and peek around the corner into the alley.

It’s empty.

He’s gone?

My heart drops for a millisecond before the roar of an engine grows louder on approach. I don’t even have to look down the street to know it’s him.

My legs tingle with adrenaline. My core pulls in anticipation. Seconds later, he drives into view, straddling a motorcycle and looking even hotter than he did in the alley.

He swings into the open parking spot in front of me but leaves the bike running.

I try to hide my shock as I gawk at him, those impossibly long legs straddling all that metal.