Playing With Fire

Chapter Twenty-Six

        [ C H A P T E R  H A S  N O T  B E E N  E D I T E D : B E W A R E ! ! ]                       

                                              Recap

        My phone vibrates just as I’m about to tell the two I’m off. Instantly, I halt and grab it, wondering if Dad had already come home from work. Much to my relief and confusion, the sender reads anonymous.

              He’s lying, you know. He hasn’t even told you the worst of what he’s done. You think he actually went to jail for stealing a piece of candy? You can’t trust him.

              I stare at the screen for a good minute.

              Then, slowly, I lift my gaze to look at Travis. He’s still arguing with his brother, waving his finger around and denying him the access to cheese. I really look at him—the way the scar on his temple travels down, fading away the farther down it goes. Like a grapevine, all his bruises are connected, one way or another.

              I shake my head and tuck the phone back into my pocket.

              “Travis,” I say, clearing my throat, “I’m going to head off.”

              He glances up while Mason continues to scratch at the counter for his cheese.

              “Yeah,” He nods before ducking and narrowing his eyes, “Be careful.”

              I manage to offer him an eye roll before turning around to leave. My fingers itch in my pockets as I bite my lip in puzzlement. My mind races as I go over what just happened. 

             “We’re hitting the gym on Wednesday,” Travis calls out before I exit.  

                                             Chapter Twenty Six

           “Have fun!” 

             I turn to give my beaming step sister the most dreadful face I can muster. She winks at me while I throw the duffle bag over my shoulder and shake my head at her coyness.

             “Define fun.” I reply with a sarcastic smile right before closing the front door.

            With my hands tightly clenched around my bag, I spin around to face my ride; Travis Emmons. Sitting on his motorbike, he looks down at his phone, waiting for me as I go through my daily routine of procrastinating.

            Just when I take a step forward, I hear Layla cry out, “Sex!”

            My eyes buldge and instantly dart to Travis. I cross my fingers, hopelessly wondering if he possibly missed her outburst, but he didn’t. Instead, the phone is by his side as he stares up at me with an arched eyebrow.

            I feel my face turn crimson as he chuckles to himself, and I glare at him when he does so. Once I’m at reach distance, I grab the helmet he offers me and clip it over my head.

            He opens his mouth to speak but I grumble, “Don’t even comment.”

            Travis clamps his lips shut instantly but they still quirk up into the trademark smirk I’ve grown to slap off during our sessions. Wordlessly, he grabs my idle arms and places them around his torso. No matter how many rides I’ve gotten from him, I’ve never gotten used to sitting in this position—it’s as if I’m hugging him, and that’s the last thing either of us want to do.