Broken Pretty Things by Amber Faye
Chapter 39
It turnsout he wanted me in the car ten minutes early this morning so that we could swing by Aurelia’s manicured house and wait for her in the driveway. I sit on my hands so I can stop clenching them on my lap. I haven’t said a word to Gunnar all morning, and the only way he’s acknowledged me has been to wait for me to get in the car before turning it on.
Aurelia’s door opens and I watch in horror as she throws her arms around her huge, angry-looking father, who actually smiles and waves over at Gunnar. I’ve never seen that man smile before. Aurelia bounces over, tits jiggling, in a low-cut shirt and a tight patterned skirt — an outfit that looks incredible, and last year I would have fawned over.
“Hey, babe,” she sings, leaning in through Gunnar’s window to kiss him, and getting his cheek. I avoid eye contact with anything and anyone, just firmly staring ahead. Surely nothing bad can happen to somebody who only ever looks ahead. “Can you move the trash out of the passenger seat so I can get in?”
Gunnar exhales long and slow, then looks over at me. Now everything Ransom said to me about the two of them has come thoroughly screaming back. I turn and look back at him. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” It comes out a lot harsher than I expected, which is only a win for me, because he raises his eyebrows from behind his Ray-Bans.
He turns back out the window, and I see Aurelia’s glare at me turn back into a sheepish puppy smile at him, and I roll my eyes. “Get in the back. We don’t have time to make Andie move.”
Aurelia’s mouth drops open. “But …” She leans in and whispers in his ear, and then giggles.
“I said we don’t have time to make Andie move. If she won’t, she won’t. I’m not picking her up and throwing her in the back. Get in.” He checks his watch.
“I wouldn’t want to touch her either,” Aurelia says, then tilts her head to look past him at me again. “Aren’t you worried she’ll stink up your beautiful seats with that sloppy pu—?”
“Get the fuck in the car or I’m leaving without you,” he snaps. She reels back, just a half inch, but the shock on her face is more nourishing than a three-course meal. She throws in her purse and climbs in after it. “How long is your car in the shop?” he asks as she slams the door shut. Aurelia’s big eyes narrow and flick from him to me to him again.
“Just a day, two, tops.” The music changes from something ambient to something punkier. “Hey, remember, you promised we could listen to my music this morning.”
“That doesn’t sound like me,” he says, but she is undeterred.
“Just put on the radio or something?” She stifles a teeny tiny yawn and makes what she must think is a cute little squeal noise.
Gunnar reaches over to the buttons, but I get there first and turn the volume dial up, then roll down my window. He puts his hand back on the wheel and says nothing. “You are so annoying,” she says with a smile and a laugh, reaching over to hit his shoulder playfully. Then makes a noise of disgust. “God, Andie, you know you can still shower even if you’re not getting any sleep?”
I glance at her over my shoulder. “What?” For a second, I thought she was implying that I was up all night having sex with Gunnar. She inspects her nails and ignores me. We pull into the parking lot, and Aurelia hops out, waiting by the driver’s side door.
Dimitri sticks his head in through my window, making me jump. He looks wide-eyed, disturbed. “Can I talk to you? Man. I’ve been waiting for you forever.” He jabs his finger at Gunnar. “Since when are you late?”
“What about?”
“Nothing. Everything. This shitstorm at home.” He sounds panicked, and I have no idea what’s been happening at home but I do not envy him right now. Compared to being over there, eating homecooked meals in a fluffy bed has been a vacation.
“Sure, of course,” I concede. Gunnar still hasn’t left the car, watching Dimitri as he pulls his head back through the window and ambles off.
“Baby,” Aurelia whines. “Come on. Walk me to my locker.”
Gunnar unclips his seatbelt. “I think you can walk to your locker yourself.” She stares at him, confused. “Can’t you?” he asks.
“Um,” she says, looking at me, and then laughing as if he’s kidding around. “Babe?”
“Just give me a minute,” he snaps. She opens and closes her mouth. Then turns around and walks into school. When she’s out of earshot, he turns to me. “What the hell does Dimitri want to talk to you about?”
“Probably our parents and their whole marriage thing?” I say, unclipping my seatbelt too. I was enjoying the look on Aurelia’s face, but if that’s over, I should get to class. “Or maybe some of the lies you told that mean my mom can’t look at me or talk to me right now. I don’t know.”
He grips my knee as I pop the door open. “Close it,” he says. I do. “Would you rather stay safe and deal with a lie or have everybody think you’re a sweet little virgin?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly. “Why do you give so much of a shit? Why do you always care so much about what everybody thinks?”
“I care what my mom thinks. Sue me,” I snap back. “And I used to care what you thought.”
“Not anymore,” he says after a second.
“Not anymore,” I agree. “Am I dismissed yet?”
He cups my face, leans over, and kisses me roughly. His teeth scrape against my lips when he pulls away. “No, Andie. For fuck’s sake. Do you know how easy this town is to sway completely one way or the other? They believe anything they’re told if they’re told by the right people. Stop fucking caring. You’re leaving at the end of the year, anyway.”
“Uh,” I say, still feeling the rough imprint of him against my sensitive lips. My eyes dart around the parking lot and catch on a couple of freshmen, tiny, laughing and practicing kickflips.
He just kissed me in public without checking if we were being watched. Maybe he’s practicing what he just preached.
And maybe I do care too much.
“Why did Aurelia say I haven’t been sleeping?” I ask suddenly, paranoia creeping through me. That maybe Gunnar told my old friends he was keeping me up all night. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do.
“I told you I had abandoned plans,” he says, still gripping my knee. “One of them was …” He chuckles, pressing his thumb to his lip. “You remember that prank store we went to a couple years ago? We bought that annoying beep machine. You hide it somewhere and it goes off at random, really loud?” I nod. I remember it. “I told them I’d bother you with shit like that while you were at my house. Petty shit. Make you miserable.”
“Stupid,” I mutter.
“Yeah, but … people really want you to suffer. In big ways or in stupid small ways. That’s part of the reason I wanted you at my house. Nobody wants to do it themselves, but they want to hear about it. This way, I’m in control of the narrative.”
I look over at him again. His tousled hair, colored cheeks. His hand is sliding up my thigh to the hem of my dress. “And you? Do you want me to suffer?”
He doesn’t answer, he kisses me again, pushing my dress up past my hip with his fingers and biting my neck. He has no idea who’s watching. He pulls back for a second and takes in the red lace panties around my hips.
“Your parents sure were easy to convince that you were fucking your stepbrother,” he says, but he doesn’t sound triumphant — he sounds something else. Bitter. “You’re going to see him right now?”
“Are you jealous?” I laugh.
He makes a gruff noise, his head in my neck, and he drives his thumb through the lace holes in the side of my underwear, making a bigger hole. “Hey—” I say, squirming away, but that only helps him rip them cleanly apart.
“You know, your version of events does explain one thing,” he says, softly, stroking over my thigh and then pushing his fingers between my legs. I lean back, heat shuddering through me, my eyes on the freshman skaters. “I did always wonder why Cole was never jealous of you and me.”
“You and me?”
With his other hand he turns my head so he can slip his tongue in my mouth, shifting closer to me so he can drive his fingers deeper between my shaking thighs. Then they are under my panties, stroking me up and down and groaning into my mouth.
“You only get this fucking wet for me,” he says, remembering what I said to him the last time he touched me like this. But it also sounds like a command more than a recollection. Two fingertips push inside me and I let out a noise as they roughly drive in and out of me. I grind against his hand, his leather seat, and his other hand stays hard on my jaw, keeping me still while his tongue works inside my mouth. His fingers, soaked, pull out and circle my clit until I’m breathing hard against his lips, then he fucks me with them again. I come with a crashing, grinding cry, grabbing his wrist and gyrating on his fingers.
“Take them off,” he says, his voice tight. I lean back, trembling and catching my breath as he pulls his fingers from me. “The panties. They’re ripped and wet. Take them off.” Without a word, I slip them down my legs and hold them up. He takes them from me, kisses my lips again, and puts them in the glove compartment, clicking it shut. “Go talk to your brother. And, after school, go buy a dress for the gala. My date has to look nice.”
He has to lean back and flip his erection up into his waistband, sucking in a breath, before he gets out of the car. He shoves his hands into his pockets, keeps his head down, and walks into the school building without looking back.
It takes me a second to be sure my legs work, and, head swimming, I hold onto the hem of my dress and walk away from the car. And from my underwear. Soaked and bare under my dress, I go about the rest of my school day feeling hot, exposed, staring at my pen and thinking about nothing but my ex best friend’s fingers.