Page 43 of Tied

His eyes flash with a darker emotional intensity. “Afraid I might fall?” he asks, and, again, his words seem like they might be hinting at something else entirely.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Me too.” The rasp is deeper now, raw and scratchier. It reaches my heart and drips down to my thighs. I feel like melted butter. I feel like I’m dreaming.

Are we talking about windows anymore?

I blink at him.

“You got a phone?” he asks, his voice still low.

The question throws me. “No. I have no one to call. My parents don’t want me to have things like that.”

He scoffs and leans closer to me again, tilting his head down toward my ear. “Don’t be a prisoner anymore, Holly,” he says softly. His breath makes me shiver, and my hands itch to reach up, to touch his arms or clutch his shirt, but I fist them at my sides, not wanting to do anything to break the spell we seem to be caught under.

“I’m trying,” I whisper back, although I’m not exactly sure what he means.

We pull back at the same time, and our faces are still so close I can almost feel his skin graze against mine. I shiver all over again, head to toe, everywhere.

“I think I should go inside.” I unzip his jacket and slowly pull it off. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Tomorrow. Noon.” His eyes lower, his chest rising and falling as he shoves his arms into the leather jacket and lifts his hair out from beneath the collar.

“Okay.” I wonder what happened to my taxi girl and why she left me. Surely she must have had a good reason. I’ll call her in the morning and give her a chance to explain before I find a new driver, which is something I’d rather not have to do.

“Thanks for the good weirdness, Holly.” Straightening, he gives me a smile, which has a glint of wickedness in its curve, and gets back on his bike.

He said my name. And he smiled.At me.I feel the way those girls look on the TV shows I spent so much time watching, when the guy they like finally pays attention to them. I feel giddy and nauseous, scared and happy and glowy. For the first time ever, I feel like a real girl. Nothing has ever felt better.

CHAPTER 15

Holly

The anticipation of seeing Tyler again today, as friends, kept me awake for most of the night. I kept peeking out my window after he dropped me off, wondering if he was still out there. I wouldn’t mind if he was, to be honest. I liked his attention, fleeting as it was.

Earlier, while I waited for Feather to get out of the shower, I called Maria, the taxi driver. She apologized frantically, telling me she had gotten a call that her two-year-old son was sick and she’d had to leave quickly. She had no way of calling me, so she had no choice but to leave. She told me she worried about me all night, wondering how I would get home. I could actually hear the relief in her voice when I told her I was fine and would like another ride today.

“I’m going shopping. Want to come?” Feather asks, coming into our small kitchen where I’m drinking a cup of tea and eating a blueberry muffin.

“I can’t… I’m going to see Poppy today. The driver will be here in about an hour.”

“You mean you’re going to see Tyler,” she comments with a grin, grabbing her car keys off the heart-shaped key rack on the wall. The hook next to hers is empty, mocking me and my carless life.

I shift uncomfortably at the small wooden table. “Of course he’ll be there, too.”

“I saw him drop you off last night. I can’t believe you got on that bike with him.” She leans against the doorframe, her long hair flowing down her shoulder and over her chest.

“You were watching me?”

“You can hear his motorcycle a mile away, Holly. I heard it in the lot and looked out the window, and there you were, all googly-eyed, staring up at him while he played with your hair. He’s actually pretty hot from a distance. The arms on him… damn, girl.” She pops the gum in her mouth and flashes a teasing smile at me. “I can see the appeal.”

“Feather…” I shake my head at her and tuck my hair behind my ear. “He wasn’t playing with my hair. There was a leaf stuck in it. I was embarrassed having foliage on my head. I wasn’t googly-eyed.”

Or was I? I certainly felt all googly and woogly.

“It’s okay to like him. You don’t have to get all embarrassed and nervous. I’m not sure he’s the best guy for you to be crushing on, but he’ll do as a stepping stone.”

“Stepping stone?” I repeat. “What’s that?”

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