Page 33 of Grease Monkey
“It was.” She lifts her brows and offers a knowing smirk. Rubbing my stomach, I say, “Okay, it still is, but I swear it’s giving me an ulcer.”
She laughs. “Okay, calm down. It’s not a big deal.” She releases her hold on my shoulders, and I notice how strong she’s been gripping me, the bite from her fingers releasing a dull ache that I rub away, and stare at her incredulously. “Are you going to tell him youlooooovehim?”
“Nope,” I say defiantly.
She frowns. “What? Why not? When are you seeing him next?”
“I was supposed to be seeing him tonight. Mom and Dad have a campaign thing, so I can finally be out of my cage for a few hours unsupervised,” I murmur, but after how Shay’s been feeling, I need to put her first. Even if it’s shitty of me to use her as an excuse to avoid the boy I’ve accidentally fallen in love with and am too scared to tell him. “But I’m going to cancel. You were right; we need to spend more time together.”
“Oh no, you arenotusing me as a cop-out to avoid your boyfriend just because you moved way past catching feelings and developed a full-blown case of being so in love with the guy, it’s sick.”
My chest tightens, and I turn my best puppy-dog eyes on my best friend.
She huffs. “Okay, because it’s you and I love you, you can use me. Your whole wounded puppy look is making me sad,” she says, waving her hand around my face before sternly pointing her finger at me. “But this does not count as us ‘spending time together.’ This is a favor because you’re freaking the fuck out for some weird reason and need to chill.” She inhales excitedly, a salacious grin pulling at her mouth. “Oh, I could maybe score us some weed to chill you out?”
The school bell rings just in time to stop Shay from coming up with other stupid ideas. I slip my arm into hers, the both of us stepping in sync through the school gates.
“Yeah, that would be great. I come home, stinking of pot, and my mom bans me from seeing you. Right after she’s done locking me in my room and throwing away the key when she finds out about Teddy,” I say sarcastically. “Sign me right up.”
Chapter Thirteen
Morgana
It’s late when I get home, the lights are out, and Mom and Dad are in their respective bedrooms asleep. Thinking about it, their two rooms side by side, connected by a shared bathroom, didn’t seem weird when I was a child, but seeing how couplescanbe around each other, I’m starting to wonder why they even bother to stay together. They clearly don’t like each other enough to sleep in the same bed.
Quietly, I close my bedroom door with a soft click and peel my denim jacket off, letting it drop to the floor. I didn’t realize how much I’ve been missing Shay until she pointed out that we’ve barely hung out lately. Manicures, boba tea, and aimlessly walking around the mall was definitely what I needed to relax and calm down about the wholelovething. I’m being an idiot, mistaking lust for love. Just because I like spending time with him—all my time—doesn’t mean I love him. It’s just really strong lust… really, really strong.
I rub my eyes as I walk to the bathroom, moonlight filtering through the gap in the curtains, guiding me toward the light switch. A shiver races down my back, and the hairs on my arms rise as another shadow joins mine on the carpet. Adrenaline surges, making my legs feel like lead and as I try to scream, the noise is muffled by a hand plastering across my mouth. Panting through my nose, my breathing shallows and quickens as fear digs its sharp claws into me. We’ve gone over this, a fabricated—and, in my opinion—ridiculous scenario, where someone trying to hurt my father during his campaign may potentially do so by targeting his family. Maybe I watch too many movies where that means kidnap, but as the hand tightens around my jaw, images of vans with blackened windows, rope biting into my wrists, and newspapers with today’s date showcased on a ransom video flood my imagination.
It’s real. It’s happening, and I can’t remember a single thing the secret service or military or whatever his job was instructed to do in this event. I’m getting lightheaded, not getting enough oxygen to my brain, blanking my mind as the seconds tick by, robbing me of valuable time I can’t afford to lose to escape this.
Think, Morgana, think!
I can free my arms. My assailant’s grip—clearly a novice—is loose enough to wriggle free, and with a strength I don’t possess in normal circumstances, I pull my arm forward and throw my elbow backward into my attacker’s crotch. The hand around my face drops with a breathyoomph,and a knee thuds to the carpet.
I spin, scrambling backward to press against the wall, gulping in air and trying to create as much space between me and the shadowed figure. Blindly, I slap the wall, searching for the light.
“Fuck, baby, you got me right in my balls.”
Light spills from the bathroom door as my fingers collide with the switch, illuminating Teddy, bent over, hands clutching his crotch and looking a little green. Relief is just as strong as the initial fright. My nerves are frayed, and my brain is whirling so fast it’s taking what I have left not to burst into tears.
“What the hell, Teddy?” I whisper-yell, my voice shaky as I glance at the closed door, scared the scuffle may have woken my parents. My heart hammers against my ribs as I rub furiously against it. “You scared me half to death!”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he groans, his other knee falling to the floor as he leans forward, pressing his head into the carpet and releasing a painful groan.
“I thought you were an attacker.”
He turns his head, looking up with his dark eyes scrunched at the sides. “Why the hell would I bean attacker?”
“My father’s campaign,” I say with indignation.
He looks at me like I’ve got three heads, then groans again. He doesn’t think my reaction was called for. He thinks this is an overreaction. Well, good. I’m glad he’s in pain. But when he groans again, I suddenly feel awful. I want to check that he’s okay, but he really did scare me.
“Fuck, Ana, I can’t feel my left ball.”
Oh, that isn’t good.
“Are you okay?” I step forward, my hand reaching out to rub his back, but instead, he grabs my wrist and gives it a sharp tug. I whirl around as he pulls me to his knee, then slowly guides me to the floor, rolling us over, so I’m lying on my back, blanketed by his warmth above me. His eyes soften as he brushes his fingers through my curls, and I practically purr.
