Psycho Ex Boyfriend (Standalone New Adult Romance) (The Alpha Brotherhood Book 2) (7 page)

Sabrina

Age 15

If one more person says something stupid about my hair, I’m going to lose it. They’re worse than my mother, who’s still threatening to take me to a stylist and get it relaxed even though that’s why I chopped it all off in the first place! She thought she was supportive of my idea of going natural until she actually saw my hair. Before she woke up Sunday morning, I left the house in bantu knots with Heather to keep this slightly shorter than expected haircut under control. Mother about had a heart attack when I came home. I took them out to show her how pretty the curls would be afterwards and she calmed down a bit.

It didn’t work out like that this morning though, I think because my hair was still wet when I put them in. Of all the fricking days Mother had to wake up early. She caught me trying to tame down the frizz by doing rope twists early this morning and offered to let me stay home from school. I told her I had a quiz and she checked the school dress code to see if hats were allowed. I have just enough hair to pull it into a high ponytail, but I didn’t think to bring another rubber band to school, so of course the one in my hair immediately snapped in homeroom.

Seriously, what the hell? This day cannot end soon enough.

I eat a granola bar near my locker and then head off to the library for the freshmen lunch period. At least I’ll be able to hide from the morons for an hour there.

Or so I thought. Granted, I’ve noticed that new haircuts at this school get a ridiculous amount of attention, and I did cut off like 8 inches. But the other girls don’t get asked questions like I do, especially from people they don’t really know, which in my case is virtually everyone. A girl from my Biology class sees me and her face lights up, but I just wave, duck around the corner of a bookshelf, and head to the back of the library. That was kind of rude, especially considering that Lindsay is very quiet and nice. Plus she wears a lot of ponytails. Maybe I should go back.

“Hi.”

I round another corner and find myself face to face with Adam, who hasn’t as much as looked at me in the past two weeks. Except for that random outburst last period, which just made everything even more awkward.

“What are you doing here?”

“Giving you a place to hide.” With a sly grin, he looks around to see if anyone is looking and pulls a keyring from his pocket. “C’mon.”

There’s a door in the rear wall between two shelves, which I always assumed was some kind of storage closet, but hoped lead to a network of secret passageways through the walls and perhaps underground to a hidden wizard’s lair.

Illusion shattered. It’s a storage closet. “How did you get a key for this room?” I ask him.

“Trade secret,” Adam replies. I put my hands on my hips and stare at him, refusing to take that for an answer. “It’s a master key. I swiped it from the janitor’s closet down by the gym when he wasn’t looking on the second day.”

“Of course you did.”

There are piles and piles of books in here. Some stacks have like a hundred copies of the same title, probably for when the entire freshmen class gets the same reading assignment like we do every other week. There’s also a small window that could really use some Windex. Turning my back to Adam, I walk over to it and clean a little patch in the corner so I can look outside, which is where I’d rather be sitting right now.

“You can’t let them get to you,” he says quietly.

“I know.”

“And… Look, I know it’s tempting, but don’t start crying. Your eyes will be swollen. They’ll be able to tell and it will just add fuel to the fire.”

Crying? “What are you talking about?” I ask, not turning to look at him.

“I… I don’t know,” Adam stammers. “That ignorant bullshit seemed like it would be overwhelming.”

“I’m used to being the odd one out.” I can’t help but chuckle. “They’re just curious. Now, the comments that my father’s passive aggressive side of the family make after drinking too much at Thanksgiving?
That’s
ignorance.”

I sense a change in the air and my muscles tense. Without spinning around, I know that he’s right behind me. “So you’re alright?” he whispers.

“Is that why you snuck me in here?” I huff. Even though I know he’s there, I’m still startled by the closeness when I turn. “To see if I’m okay so that you can go back to completely ignoring me? I’m fine. I’m
always
going to be just fine. So take your guilt or concern or whatever the hell this is and let it go.”

“I can’t. Not with you.”

His dark eyes stare into mine as he takes a step even closer, virtually pinning me into the corner. But I’m not afraid, my heart pounding faster and faster as my breathing gets shallow. Tentatively, his hand raises to my face, his fingers gently tracing along my hairline until they’re toying with my puffy, over combed curls. They were so perfect yesterday. Why couldn’t I be rocking that hair for this moment?

“I knew your hair would be soft,” he murmurs.

“You’re supposed to ask someone’s permission before you touch them, you know.”

“I can’t do that either.” Without warning, his lips crash into mine, his hand curling around my neck, leaving just his thumb on my jaw. “Not with you.”

I don’t get a word in before his mouth is on mine again. My eyes flutter closed as my back presses against the solid wall and Adam runs his tongue across the seam of my lips, coaxing them apart.

He groans when I wrap my arms around him, withdrawing with a shudder that seems to surprise him as much as it does me. Adam stumbles backwards, grabbing the back of his neck where I touched him like he’s been stung by a bee.

The light through the window catches his eyes as they fall to the floor. They’re a little glassy. He keeps moving away from me until he’s at the opposite corner, but the closet is so small that still only leaves a few feet between us.

“Are you okay?” I ask. He says nothing and doesn’t look up, almost like he’s ashamed. “Adam?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.” He winces as I take a step closer.

When Sun first came to live with us, she did that when anyone touched her. She would jump if she didn’t expect physical contact and sometimes squirm away if she did. My parent’s adoption agent said that the orphanage was overcrowded and she wasn’t used to affection because she hadn’t received much of it since she was abandoned as a baby. It took months for her stop tensing up. Mother gave up long before then, but I didn’t.

Adam’s been in a place like that for years.

“How long has it been since anyone’s hugged you, Adam?”

His nose wrinkles in disgust as he glares up at me. But then his expression twists into something more vulnerable as his jaw tenses and he answers, “I can’t remember. Probably from Molly when I left, but I don’t remember it.”

I take a few steps toward him slowly, like I’m approaching a wild animal. He turns his face slightly and squeezes his eyes shut when I move to touch him, almost like he’s flinching in slow motion. My fingers land on the hot skin of his cheek and he lets out a ragged breath before gripping my wrist tightly, but not pulling it away.

Our eyes finally meet again and he lurches forward, capturing my mouth with his again. My stomach flutters as his tongue slides over mine with a groan. His body shudders against mine as we pull each other closer, his arms guiding me to spin around until I’m hidden within stacks of books and the unyielding brick wall. And him.

I’ve read quite a bit about first kisses, and none of them ever seemed like this. He only stops for a moment to catch his breath to look at me. His eyes ask for permission to keep going and mine must grant it because his lips return to mine again and again. Every time I touch him his body reacts differently. Sometimes his muscles tense and he grunts into our kiss, then I’ll feel them shivering beneath my fingertips as he lets out a pitiful groan. Some touches make him start to pull away and I have to hold on tighter, while the same caress a moment later will inspire him to wrap his arms around me until I can hardly breathe.

The five minute bell rings, startling us. We must have been making out for at least a half an hour. It didn’t feel like that long. I check my watch as Adam stares down at the floor, looking almost as awkward and confused as I’m feeling.

We both look at the door at the sound and vibration of footsteps outside. A minute of silence ticks by and all I can think about is the electricity lingering on my lips and all the things I want to say, but can’t. Eventually the honor student in me becomes worried about being late for class.

I move to leave this unexpected rendezvous behind me and turn the doorknob when Adam crashes into me from behind, his forearm across my chest and shoulders and his lips against my ear.

“I need to see you again,” he mutters, kissing my temple.

“I want to see you again, too,” I murmur as my stomach flips and flops and my head starts to spin.

“Not want.
Need.”
He bites my earlobe and my heart leaps into my throat. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

There’s something hard pressing into my rear. It takes me a moment to register what it is. “I think about you all the time,” I admit.

“I’m sorry for the cold shoulder, Sabrina,” he whispers. “But I can’t… we really shouldn’t…”

“I get it.”

I’ve never asked, but I doubt boyfriends are approved for me either, let alone unsupervised closet make-out sessions. Even if they are, the last thing I want is questions about where I’m going and what I’m doing. This ignored adoptee thing is finally getting convenient. And how would I explain Adam to my mother? Or my father? They can’t exactly meet his father. And, oh my God, every single girl in school has a crush on at least one of his brothers, they’re basically an on-site boy band. One little hint of attraction, one little rumor… I think I have trouble making friends now? I’d be a pariah. And Adam would be… gone.

My racing thoughts halt as Adam’s hand appears beneath my shirt, his warm fingers resting on the goose bumped skin of my ribs. “We should really go,” I say.

“I know.”

Instead he spins me to face him and drops to his knees, his heavy arms pulling down on my waist as he rests his head on my stomach. I run my fingers through his baby fine blond hair, relishing each breath he takes as he pulls me closer.

The real bell rings and we both go rigid. Without a word, Adam rises and moves toward the door, leaving my body cold in his absence. Turning around, he winks at me before confidently stepping out into the library even though we have no idea if anyone is out there.

I watch him stride away, casually running his hand through his hair as if nothing has happened. I dart out behind him, glancing around. My lips tingle throughout the next two hours and I’m absolutely positive that
everyone
knows what just happened.

I see him later that day in Calculus and he doesn’t even glance up as I walk past him on wobbly legs. Shane sits beside him, leaning over and mumbling something about what a fucking waste of time this is. They share a good laugh and start talking about software and coding.

Right then I realize that Adam has the upper hand. He seems completely unfazed while I’m still reeling. And for all I know, I’m not the first girl that’s been thoroughly kissed in that closet.

Three excruciating days pass. I wander around the library during lunch for the first two, then figure I should probably stop being so pathetic and take advantage of the beautiful autumn weather while it lasts. When I get back home that day, I discover the smallest flip phone I’ve ever seen in my backpack.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!

If my parents or Heather ever find this, I’m screwed. That doesn’t stop me from immediately charging it up using the outlet between my bed and the wall. I turn up my study music when I power it up, but it’s silent.

There’s a text waiting for me.
Call me if you can. After 10.
The number is saved under the letters ‘BF’ which I hope means boyfriend. I’m ridiculously distracted as I do my homework. I’m lucky that I don’t have to try very hard to do well in school. Hands shaking, I call him the first moment I can.

“Hello, beautiful,” he answers.

And that’s when 10:01 becomes my favorite time of the day.

********

“So… Happy almost one month anniversary,” I whisper into the phone.

“
Almost
one month anniversary, huh?” Adam replies. He gets to use the full volume of his voice even though ‘lights out’ occurs every night at ten.

“Oh, come on. You’re counting, too.” I say. “Right?”

“Yes,” he admits. “But you do realize that almost only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades.”

“What?”

“It’s a saying.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. Probably an old guy saying.”

“So in other words, you’re planning on breaking up with me tomorrow and we’ll never get to the month mark?” I use my needy little girl voice just to tease him.

He exhales in a laugh. “No. I am not.”