Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Fifteen years old

God, I was freezing my ass off. This was what happened when I listened to Rusty and snuck out in the middle of the night so we could go to a bonfire. We never made it to said bonfire, because Rusty’s truck broke down. The truck was as old as my grandpa’s Chevy, and that was saying something since Grandpa’s Chevy was a dinosaur. Still, Rusty liked to brag that his truck had personality , and if by personality he meant it helped him get laid since the back of his truck saw more ass than Heavenly, the stripper joint a few miles out, then yes, his truck was bursting with personality .

Still, Rusty and I were best friends. We grew up together, both of us being only children. Our grandpas had been friends since the Vietnam War. At one point, Rusty’s grandmother hoped for us to get hitched and have kids, the whole shebang , but that was never going to happen. Not because I didn’t find Rusty attractive; he was very good looking— brown tousled hair, warm eyes, soft looks—but underneath it all was his player persona. We always fought, getting on each other’s nerves every other day. Most importantly, it would never work because we were practically siblings.

“You know what, Rusty? I’m going to walk home. This truck isn’t going to turn on today, maybe not even tomorrow. Rest in peace, Bow.” I patted the old truck while Rusty glared at me. Bow was short for Rainbow, since the truck was so faded and had different colored parts. Bow also stood for “bed on wheels”—you know, because the truck had personality.

“You know what, Gabs? Your negativity is really hurting her feelings. Just watch, one day old Bow is going to be a freaking classic, and you’re going to beg me to take you places so that you can be seen in a beauty like this.”

I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t likely, but I wasn’t going to insult him any more right then. Sometimes Rusty could get so testy and dramatic. It was better to let him have the last word than to argue with him about nonsense. Since I wasn't really going to abandon Rusty, I went and sat down on the cold grass. We were stuck on the back roads, and people rarely came this way—it was the trees and the darkness that freaked some people out. For others it was the old bridge. Some swore they had seen the ghost of my mother hanging around. That was funny since the only unfinished business that woman left behind was a bottle of Jack hidden under the sink, because she sure as hell didn’t remember me.

“Your grandpa is going to kill me if he finds out I snuck you out,” Rusty said, bent over the hood of Bow .

“You’re probably right.” I did nothing to try and convince him otherwise. It wasn’t that Grandpa hated Rusty; he just didn’t trust him ever since he found out he could get a girl to drop her panties with pretty words and his smile—and the fact that Rusty was a junior and I was a freshman didn’t have my grandfather jumping for joy either.

I was so freaking dead if I didn’t get home and sneak back in.

“Dude, I think I’m starting to get frostbite. My fingers are cold, and they look blue.”

“That’s just the moonlight, stupid,” he answered.

Just when I was going to give up and leave him alone so I could walk home, not caring for my grandpa's disappointment or his punishment, lights blinded me, making my stomach drop. I held my breath, scared that it was going to be another faded truck, but thank God it wasn’t my grandpa.

It was an old Mercedes, but just because it was old, that didn’t mean it didn’t look new. I knew that car. Everyone knew that car. It was one of Mr. Dunnetts. My stomach sank. This wasn’t a good thing. Most of the Dunnetts were mean and egotistical. There was Prescott, the eldest Dunnett. He was currently a senior, man whore, and certified asshole. Then Maximilian, who was a junior, sporty, and a little nerdy. Their sister, Juliet, was a sophomore, and her friends didn’t like me.

This is going to be interesting.

Rusty seemed to have come to the same conclusion as I did, standing protectively in front of me as the car stopped right in front of us, blinding us to whoever was behind the wheel.

“Do you guys need any help?”

Rusty’s shoulders relaxed as he walked to meet the person who had come to our rescue. “Max, my man. Damn, am I glad to see you. I could kiss you right now.”

I peeked around Rusty’s shoulders and saw Maximilian. Out of all the Dunnetts, he was my favorite. His looks were often overlooked. He wasn’t in-your-face, insanely hot like Prescott, but he was still good looking. Max was tall and a little lanky, but I was sure that was going to change as he got older. Like his mom, he had russet hair and eyes like moss. Maximilian dressed super preppy—all nice jeans and sweaters. He looked expensive, but the fantastic thing about him was that he was humble, or at least I thought he was. He wasn’t shy, but he was quiet. The words gentleman, total class, and sweetheart were used by the town whenever Maximilian Dunnett was mentioned. He was the town’s golden boy, while I was the wild orphan child.

Someone like him would never notice someone like me. Trust me, I wasn’t pitying myself. It was a fact. I was used to it. My life motto: sticks and stones.

He smiled at us, all perfect white teeth, and I found myself smiling back at him. There was something hypnotizing about his smile. There was a sincerity and innocence to him that was hard to overlook.

“I think I’ll pass on that kiss, Russell. Although, if the pretty girl wants to give it to me, then I can get on board with it. ”

Oh my God.

First, he called Rusty by his given name, all prim and proper, and it was cute as hell, and second, he just called me pretty. I knew I wasn’t ugly. All brown hair and big brown eyes, I was good looking, but more often than not, guys made me feel cheap. Right now, the way Max called me pretty, it made me feel like I was more, not just the daughter of the town’s drunk whore.

“That could be arranged, if you can get me home before I get frostbite.” I noticed Rusty’s shoulders tense, not liking my flirtatious tone. It was his fault we were stuck. I may or may not have frostbite, and I wouldn’t mind kissing Max Dunnett.

Rusty could suck it.

Max looked me right in the eyes. It was the first time we had ever had an actual conversation. “It’s merely forty-fives degrees, and there’s barely any wind; you won’t be getting frostbite anytime soon. If it were January at zero degrees with winds going fifteen miles per hour, then I’d say it would have taken around thirty minutes for your fingers to turn black.”

I grimaced at the imagery he presented. He was a little dorky but very charming and sweet. I gave him a wide opening for a kiss that I so wanted to have with him, but he didn’t mention it again. Was I a little bummed? Totally. Still, I couldn’t deny the warmth it brought to my heart. Most guys made lewd comments to me on the daily. It was refreshing not being seen like a ho just because my mother was one .

“Told you, but no you have to be a drama queen.” Rusty, being the typical oblivious dumbass he was, patted my head like I was a little puppy. He’d done that many times before, but he’d never done it in front of Max. Now the whole image I tried to project was shattered. Can you say freshman dweeb? Here, here.

“Max, can you give Gabby a ride home then come back and help me get this baby back on the road?” Rusty ran his hand lovingly over Bow. Meanwhile, I tried hard not to beam. Okay, so maybe Rusty didn’t intend to leave me alone with Max, but I take back calling him an ass.

Snapping out of my moment of shyness, I grabbed Max's arm and led him to his vintage 1957 black Mercedes Benz 300sl. The only reason I knew the car model was because of Rusty, who, unlike me, was all about cars. “You give me that ride, and I’ll give you a kiss.” I grinned up at him, trying not to laugh at his somewhat horrified face. I’d been told I was a little intimidating.

Just a little.

Also headstrong, stubborn, and loud would be applicable. Oh, and we can’t forget talkative; that’s the main one. My grandpa always said I could bullshit my way out of any situation. I could make a killing selling books to blind people.

“Gabby, right?” Max asked after he opened the passenger door, leading me inside his car. No one had ever opened a door for me; it was a little old fashioned.

“No, my name is Freya. Rust says I talk a lot, so he calls me Gabby for, you know, gabbing too much.” I ran my hand across the soft leather of the seat as I watched him walk to the driver’s side. Max wasn’t anything like what I thought he’d be.

The car might be as old as the truck, but it was in pristine condition. I looked through the side mirror, and Rusty was already a small blip in the darkness.

“Like the Nordic goddess of love?” Max broke the silence.

“You’re really smart, aren’t you?” Not many people knew that if they weren’t into the whole geek mythology—my bad, Greek mythology. I felt a little bad when his cheeks became rosy but mostly found it adorable. “Yes, exactly like the goddess of love, but between the both of us, I think I lucked out since dear old mother could have named me Dionysus.” I wasn’t joking since my mom loved her bottle, but it was nice hearing Maximilian laugh.

“You're mixing your mythologies. Nordic is Scandinavian. Then there’s your Greek mythology and Roman, where Aphrodite and Venus are essentially the same as Freya.”

“When you put it like that, I guess my name isn’t so bad,” I said in all honesty. Can you imagine having Aphrodite for a name? Like what would be your nickname? Ap? Afro? Guess ol’ Mom could have done a lot worse.

“A pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said with a smile. I was about to respond with some of my grade-A sass because he made it so easy, but when I looked out the window, we were already by my trailer.

“Oh shit,” I croaked, because standing outside in his rocking chair was my grandpa. “Just leave me right here. I’ll walk the rest of the way,” I urged in a meek voice.

“I wouldn’t do that. It’s dark and late. Besides, your grandfather would think less of me if I just left you on the side of the road instead of your front door.”

I snickered. He made it all sound so proper. First of all, our trailer was small. It wasn't a long walk from the dirt driveway to the front door. Second, my grandpa was in his rocking chair with a gun nearby.

“I hope you lived a nice life. Just know that under his chair is his shotgun.” I patted his shoulders without thinking. Crap, did I just touch Max “golden boy” Dunnett? He didn’t seem to mind though.

“Stay here,” Max broke the silence, his tone calm. I couldn’t decide if he was as affected as I was. I watched him get out of the car, taking long strides until he made it to my side. Total Maximilian move, the good ol’ boy next door. Was it old fashioned? Totally, but also so freaking hot. When he gave me his hand, I smiled up at him, my belly dipping at the heat he was emitting. Knowing Grandpa was watching, I let go of his hand and walked next to him.

“Good evening, sir,” Max greeted. Meanwhile, I prayed he didn’t pull out his shotgun on Max.

“It's past midnight,” Grandpa grumbled.

“Max was just giving me a ride back. Rusty and I never made it anywhere. Bow broke down on us,” I said defensively as a way to try and explain. Grandpa snickered then took a sip of his beer.

“Guess that’s karma for you, kid.” Well, this was embarrassing. Nothing like getting scolded by your guardian in front of a cute guy.

I turned to Max and mustered up a smile. “Thank you, but I think it’s best if you left. I’m home safe and all.” Panicking, I pushed him back, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he extended his arm to shake my grandpa's hand. “Maximilian Dunnett.” It wasn’t like Grandpa didn’t know who he was. Everyone knew the Dunnetts.

“Careful, too many potholes in the back roads. Wouldn’t want that pretty car getting all busted.”

I glared at my grandfather. Would it kill him to be nice? He didn’t even shake Max’s hand. This was surreal. No boy ever wanted to be seen with me, except Rusty, but he didn’t count. And now the only boy who didn’t look at me like I was trash was standing here with me, all nice and shit, and Grandpa was rude. Max surprised me when he looked down at me and gave me a mischievous smile.

That smile changed something in me. I didn’t know what yet, but I knew it would be epic.

“See you around, Freya.”

Too tongue-tied to reply, I waved.

“Boy like that ain't nothing but trouble.”

And just because I was still mad at Grandpa, I said, “You always said trouble was my middle name.”