Page 70 of Reckless At Raleigh High
Darhower’s lip curls up. “I’ve learned the hard way that getting rid of you isn’t as easy as it sounds. Enjoy prom. Enjoy what’s left of your senior year. Just do me a favor and keep the hell out of my way, boy.”
37
ALEX
You’re expected to look smart in court, but I’ve stood before judges and juries in a t-shirt and jeans every single time I’ve been dragged up onto a dock. I haven’t given a single fuck about the impression I’m supposed to give them. Those uptight stiffs, perched on their benches, heard the charges against me and immediately made their decisions about me and the kind of person I was. In their eyes, I was a criminal. A waste of space. A piece of shit that didn’t deserve to share the same oxygen as them. I always knew that a collared shirt and a tie wouldn’t do much to sway them when it came down to it, and so I dressed accordingly. No sense in being uncomfortable for nothing.
Tonight marks the very first time I’ve ever worn a suit. It’s black and tailored, and the woman in the store cooed over me like a fucking psychopath when I tried it on in the store. She told me I was the most handsome guy she’d ever fitted. Yet all the while, she made sure to avoid looking at the ink that covers half of my body, fussing nervously around the tie clips and the cufflinks, watching me out of the corner of her eye like I was about to burn the place down to the ground with her still inside the building.
I straighten out the thin black pencil tie I just fastened around my neck, and for a moment the guy staring back at me from the bathroom mirror doesn’t look like me at all. He looks like someone who might have a promising future ahead of him. I can see him accomplishing lofty goals and making something of himself, and that is frightening as fuck. Because failing is easy. Being the guy everyone expects me to be—that tearaway thug who’ll never amount to anything but trouble—is the path of least resistance. Working to be better, to be more, is a much harder path to walk. If I convince people I’m a good man, there’s a solid chance that, at some point, I’ll actually end up letting them down…and that possibility, especially where Silver’s concerned, is unacceptable.
Then don’t let her down, asshole,I tell the guy looking back at me in the mirror.Give her the life she deserves. Keep her safe, and never,everhurt her.
I already know I’m not gonna hurt her. I might not be the perfect husband but fuck me if I don’t damn near kill myself trying to be. For her.
I walk away from the mirror, feeling like I’ve entered into some kind of contract with the promise of the man I might become, and I feel strangely optimistic about the whole thing.
As tradition dictates, Cameron opens the door to the Parisi household. I’ve knocked, even though I’m perfectly comfortable with walking through the front door unannounced these days. It’s prom night, and I want Silver to get the whole experience. Wouldn’t have been right if she didn’t hear the boy who asked her to be his date arriving on the doorstep, as she checked her hair and straightened out her dress.
“Mr. Bond, I presume?” Cam says, putting on a thick non-descript Eastern European accent. He waggles his eyebrows as he looks me up and down. “Prepare to die. Mwahahahaha!”
“I don’t think any of the Bond villains were vampires, old man,” I tell him, skirting past him into the hallway. “You ever even seen a Bond movie?”
He folds his arms over his chest, arching an eyebrow at me suspiciously, like this is a trick question. “No. You?”
I shake my head, laughing softly. “Guess I haven’t.”
“We should probably rectify that. Have a movie marathon or something. I don’t think we count as real men until we’ve at least seen the Connery years.”
I lean back against the wall next to the mail stand. “You asking me on a date? ‘Cause you should know, I’m already seeing someone.”
“Hah hah. Very droll.” He clears his throat, his expression turning serious. “I’m supposed to tell you to have my daughter home by midnight now. And tell you to keep your hands to yourself. Seems a little futile now, since she already agreed to marry your sorry ass. Youshouldstill keep your hands to yourself, though,” he adds on the end. “I don’t condone your hands anywhere near my daughter, just so we’re clear. If it were up to me, neither of you would be allowed to make physical contact of any kind until you’re both at least thirty.”
“God, Dad, please stop talking.” Silver’s standing at the top of the stairs. It’s an undeniably cliché moment—Cameron giving me his fucked up, messy version of ‘the talk’ while I wait by the door for the girl of my dreams to appear. But fuck it. I don’t give a shit, because Silver looks like sheisa dream. Her hair’s loose and wavey, styled to look like it hasn’t been styled at all. She’s wearing hardly any makeup, maybe just a touch of mascara and some lip gloss, and she looks fresh and vibrant. And her dress…it hits me that I’ve never seen Silver in a dress before. She lives in her jeans and t-shirts just like I do. The little black number she’s wearing isn’t your typical prom dress. It’s a little edgy, and short, and the long expanse of her legs instantly makes my dick hard. Awkward, since Cam’s standing four feet away.
The shoulders and the top of the dress that covers her cleavage is made of some kind of lace that sparkles and catches at the light as she hesitantly begins to come down the stairs. “What do you think?” she asks, running her hands over the material.
“Beautiful.”
“Beautiful.”
Cam and I say it at the same time. We look at each other, and Silver’s father coughs uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “Right. Screw you guys for growing up and leaving me here at home on my own. I’m gonna get the camera.”
“No! Jesus. Dad, we don’t need embarrassing prom photos. We’re both covered in bruises.”
We are, too. They’re fading fast—a few of mine are fresher than others—but you can still see them if you look close enough. Cam doesn’t give a shit, though.
“Uhhh…yeah. You have to have embarrassing photos taken. How else am I gonna remind you how dumb you looked in thirty years, when fashions have changed and everyone’s wearing bell bottoms again?”
He ducks into his office, and Silver races down the remaining steps, grabbing hold of me by the suit jacket. “Come on, let’s bail before he manages to find the Polaroid.”
I scoop her off her feet, holding her up against me for a moment, placing a long, smoldering kiss on her lips. No tongue. I just hold her, lingering as I enjoy the sensation of her pliant lips, until she begins to melt against me. I love kissing this girl so fucking much. Each and every kiss I steal from her is a gift I don’t deserve. Cameron clatters, dropping something in the office, and his hissed, “Shit!” echoes out into the hallway.
I release Silver, setting her back on her feet, pleased with the fact that her pupils are so blown they’ve almost swallowed her irises and she looks dazed as hell. I know I have an effect on her but witnessing it with my own two eyes makes me inordinately smug. God, she’s so fucking beautiful, it feels like my insides are on fire. With a light touch, I skim the palm of my hand over her hair, humming softly under my breath. “Let’s give him the moment,Argento. He’s your dad. He should play his role in this whole prom debacle, just like we do.”
“Urgh. Fine.” She pretends to be annoyed, but a pleased light dances in her eyes. I think she loves the fact that I consider Cam from time to time. He bursts back out of his office, brandishing a DSLR like a weapon, as if he knows his daughter was planning on making a run for it. “Stand by the painting,” he orders. “And I know this is gonna painful for both of you, okay, but I’m gonna need you both to smile.”
Once the obligatory modeling shoot’s over with (yes, we both smiled), Cam lets us leave. Silver gasps when she hits the end of the path that leads to the turning circle in front of the house and sees our ride for the evening. “Alex! What the hell have you done?”
