Their Broken Pieces by Jessica Gomez

Chapter Twenty

Jasmine

 

 

My roommate is a nightmare from hell.

Molly Masters.

She’s one of the most popular girls in school and someone who never shuts up about herself. I had to hear about every outfit she brought, why she brought them, and all the occasions she may have to wear them. The most annoying part is that she can’tstand me. She was jealous of me when my brother was alive, like we were dating or something. In a roundabout way she blames me for Jace not giving her a chance, as if I controlled his choices of girls. Gross.

I heard her talking about me on the phone while I was in the bathroom, telling her friends she was roommates with, “Jace’s creepy sister.” What the hell was creepy about me? I mean, sure, my conversational skills were extremely rusty, but I wouldn’t consider myself rude or weird because of it.

I’m so relieved when Andrew shows up at my door to take me to a casual dinner down the road. I know we have a date tomorrow, but I had to come up with something to ward off Alex. I mean, I had to eat, right? Besides, I knew Andrew wouldn’t say no.

“I’m glad you came early,” I say after leaving the hotel.

Andrew’s smile grows. “Yeah?” He thinks it’s because I couldn’t wait to see him, when in reality, it’s because I couldn’t stand one more second with Molly.

Instead of bursting his bubble, I let him think what he wants. “This is a beautiful place.” Looking around, I take in the sights. We’re on the block closest to the beach. The sand is white, and the sun is setting. All the colors of a bright rainbow fill the sky; the smell is simply delicious, a warm breeze mixing with the salt of the ocean, caressing my skin and hair… Paradise. This is what they put on the cover of postcards.

I’m so engrossed in the brilliant sky and how it reflects off the ocean’s surface like a carbon copy that when Andrew slips his hand into mine, it’s the first time I notice him watching me. I look down at our entwined fingers, and then up at him. His eyes bore into mine, as if he’s trying to feel something. It’s almost uncomfortable, but pulling away at this point for me is not an option. It’s easier to forget about Alex if I have a distraction, and Andrew is a pleasant distraction.

I smile instead. I can try to make myself like Andrew more. It’s not as if he’s a bad-looking guy. Quite the contrary, he’s great looking, but I’ve been feeling off with him lately, and having trouble putting my finger on the reason. Before I put any more thought into my psycho paranoia, I see the restaurant we’re looking for, The Bali Bistro. It’s one of those restaurants that provides a variety of food, from pasta to burgers. The woman at the front desk said it even made the cover of Bon Appetite.

Money’s not a problem. The school gave each student a ten-dollar breakfast and a fifteen-dollar lunch and dinner allowance. We are to charge everything to the school’s hotel account, which is pretty awesome. Everyone on the island seems to know where we’re from and what items we can charge to the room. Other than that, I brought money I’ve been saving to buy mementos. I thought I would buy a souvenir for Dad and Grandma. I think they’d like that.

A heavyset Hawaiian woman leads us to our seats. It surprises me she can make it through the aisle. Of course, that’s what I think, but I would never say anything to her. I’m sure she works just as hard, probably harder at her job than most people.

That’s why I’m stunned when Andrew says, loud enough for her to hear, “At least being here in Hawaii, she has a reason to wear a muumuu year-round.” He sounds like an idiot when he laughs, all high-pitched and hyena like.

After we sit, I give the woman an apologetic smile and scold Andrew. “I can’t believe you just said that.” The words leave my lips in a growl, chastising him for his comment.

How embarrassing. I hate people like him who put themselves above everyone else. I’m beginning to see that about him, the way he looks at Alex and his friends, as if he’s above them, like they’re nothing more than scum.

“Oh, chill out, Jazzy.”

My face falls flat. Number one, who the hell is he to tell me to chill out? Two, he used my nickname. He doesn’t know me well enough to call me by a family nickname. He reads the look on my face and understands.

“Sorry. Don’t want me to call you that?” he asks. A new Andrew is exposing himself, and I’m not sure how I feel about him.

“No. Jace used to call me that all the time.” He nods. “Sorry. Don’t mean to be a downer,” I try to joke, hoping he would say something like, Oh, don’t worry. No problem. But that never happens.

“So, what do you feel like eating?” The mask slides back into place. Just like that, he turns back into the caring person who met me at my car on the first day of school.

I’m still using him as a distraction, so I really couldn’t care less who he is or why he’s an asshole. I only care that he’s a cute asshole, and he keeps my thoughts off… the other one. If Andrew would keep Mom happy and my dad safe, I would date him. It was only a year of my life, and then I could move out and take Dad with me, leaving her to fend for herself. Maybe then, I could be with… I don’t dare finish that sentence.

“I think I’m going to go with spaghetti and meatballs, Hawaiian style. It says it has pineapple in it.” I point to the picture and show it to him, even though he’s not paying any attention.

“I’m going to have the prime rib.” He puts his menu down and looks around the restaurant, plainly checking out women right in front of me.

“Have you gotten all the plans worked out for tomorrow?” I ask, trying to lead our conversation.

His eyes find mine, remembering that he is, in fact, here with someone, so he flips his switch and turns on the charm. “I have everything set. Are you ready for a night you’ll never forget?” He slides his hand across the table and takes mine.

For just a moment, I want to believe that this is real. That what he’s doing isn’t just to get into my pants, but that he’s doing it because he does like me. Unfortunately, the more time I spend with him, the more I see he’s only after the new girl in school, even though I’m not new.

Idiot!

“Yes, I am.” I turn on the charm, leaning into him.

He’s eating up my flirtations. By the end of the night, I’m not sure who’s more into who. I’m having a hard time understanding why I’m even acting like this, as if I want to take him to my room and have my way with him. I’m positive I wouldn’t go through with it. There’s no way in the world I’m losing my virginity to Andrew Parker. That, however, does not stop me from acting like I want to ravish him.

After we’ve eaten, we decide to walk down to the beach and check out the water. I’m trying to be into the date, but now and then, my mind still wanders to Alex. I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing, or where he’s hanging out.

A small smile creeps across my lips as I think about him. His dark chocolate eyes, framed by long, soft lashes. His hair, which used to be kept army short, has grown to ear length curls that he keeps tucked under his gang’s green and black bandana when he’s not at school. The tall stick figure he was, turned into the toned body of a god. His tattoos only add to his new badassness that I have to admit, is an enormous turn on.

Interpreting my smile wrong, Andrew steps in front of me. “What are you thinking about?” He pulls me into his arms as mine stay at my sides. His fingers are brushing the wounds on my back, causing me to flinch. I’m relieved I can hide my face at this angle.

Determined to keep up the charade, I lace my fingers behind his neck. “How nice of a time I had tonight.” I rise on my toes.

He leans down, and I can feel the heat of his lips. “Wait until tomorrow,” he whispers, and then presses his lips to mine.

They’re rough, not smooth like the lips I want to be kissing. His tongue sneaks out and wets my top lip. I’m hesitant at first, then do my chant, distraction, distraction, distraction, repeatedly in my head. My tongue slides against his as a low moan escapes him.

He squeezes me tighter, sending my pain sensors into overdrive. I’m almost relieved when one of his hands slides down my spine to the curve of my lower back, and then over my butt, cupping it, using it to hold me to him. He presses himself against me, and already I can feel him through his pants. I pull his mouth closer as his hand holding my butt ventures back up my body, following my ribs, and cupping the outside of my breast. Pinching pain shoots through my body every time his fingers hit an injury because he’s not being the least bit gentle.

His breathing is heavier, and his hands more frantic. He leans me back, lays me down softly, and leans over me, pressing me into the sand. Surprisingly, the sand’s soft against my back, providing much needed relief. His hands are still traveling, trying to find bare skin. First, at my navel, his fingers trace across my stomach, then move up to rub the curve of my breast before tucking his fingers under my bra and filling his hand.

I have to admit, I’m turned on; my breathing is as heavy as his. However, his grasp gets rougher, almost desperate. I’m slowly losing interest in this make-out session when his fingers travel back down and tuck into the waist of my pants. This is moving faster than I expected.

“Wait. Andrew, stop.” I try to push his hand away, but he resists. “Andrew!” My voice is sterner and I push at him harder. This time, he leans back.

“What? What’s wrong?” It’s clear stopping is the furthest thing from his mind. His hands are still roaming over me.

“I can’t do this here,” I say.

The look on Andrew’s face is one of frustration. “All right. You want to go back to your room?” He thinks we’re going to continue what we started.

I sit up and pull away from him to tug my shirt down, feeling too exposed. “Would it be all right if I turned in early? I’m still not feeling too well.”

A small amount of understanding shows on his face. “I forgot you’ve been sick.” He stands and helps me to my feet. “Let me walk you to your room.” He links arms with me and smiles, kissing me one last time before he walks me back to my room.

I turn to him when we reach my door. “Thank you. It was a nice evening.” A sly smile cocks up at the side of my mouth.

“No, thank you. It was my pleasure,” he purrs and backs me up against the corner of the doorjamb. When it hits my back, shooting pain flies up my spine, but I’m able to hold back the gasp. He kisses me, but all I can think about is getting my damn back off this doorjamb.

“Save it for tomorrow,” I whisper against his lips.

“Oh?”

I nod and turn to open the door to my room.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he calls to me as my fake smile disappears behind my hotel door.

I lean against the wall for a minute, waiting for the pain to subside. I wish he hadn’t shoved me back so hard.

“Have a nice time?” Molly’s snotty voice fills our room. She’s standing in full view of the door, witnessing the entire scene, being her nosey, rumor spreading self.

Great.

“Yep.” I muster up the last of my strength and move to my bed.

“That’s nice. I’m going out, and I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” I say, not caring where she’s heading.

I think of taking a warm bath, hoping it will help to heal my bruises faster than they would on their own.

Molly waits, probably expecting me to ask if I can come. When I ignore her, she huffs and walks out the door, letting it shut with a loud bang.

“Finally alone,” I say aloud.

I head straight for the bathroom and fill the giant bathtub with bubble bath and hot water. I couldn’t think of a better place to be right now. Avoiding the mirror entirely, I sink into the tub and disappear from the world for a couple of hours.