TROUBLE, A New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) Page 2

  “Shit, I have to go to the grocery store.” He stands up at the front of the couch suddenly, making me think that maybe he wasn’t as unfazed as he appeared. Looking down at me he smiles kind of awkwardly. “Do you need anything?”

  I shake my head, freaking out about the mere idea of him shopping for me. “No. Thanks.”

  Teagan comes out. “Oh, I need something.”

  “More lemons?” he asks.

  “No, smart ass, I need tampons. Not the super size ones, either. Regular size, since I have such a small vagina.”

  Colin chokes on his own spit and his face turns bright red as he battles to breathe.

  I have to hide my face behind my e-reader so he doesn’t see me smiling. Man, she is so bold and rude, but sometimes I can’t help but laugh at the stuff that comes flying out of her mouth. I’m pretty sure she’s getting back at Colin for fake-eating her bread.

  “No way,” he finally says. “No way am I buying tampons at the store, of any size.”

  “I have to clean up this mess before Rebel gets home. If he sees it he’ll try to eat some of it and then he’ll break up with me for being such a horrible cook.”

  “If being a good cook were the reason he’s with you, he’d’ve broken up with you a long time ago.” Colin runs around the back of the couch when Teagan goes after him.

  I tuck my legs up around the sides of my belly like a frog, trying to keep from getting tripped over.

  Teagan points at him when he finally stops running; they’re on opposite sides of the couch with me in the middle. “When I catch you? You die.” She leaves the room, but not after issuing her last order. “Better get me those tampons or you’re going to be sorry.”

  Colin’s at the door in a flash, looking towards the kitchen and then at me. He’s nervous.

  “She’ll kill you, you know,” I say, smiling over the idea that such a small girl can make such a big scary guy actually worried.

  “Or make me eat her next meal, which is the same thing but slower and more painful.”

  I laugh.

  “Come with me,” he says.

  “What? Me? No way.” I put my e-reader up to my face so he won’t see it going red.

  He strides over and yanks it away from me, backing up before I can swipe it back.

  “Hey! That’s mine!”

  “And you can have it back if you get those damn tampons for me.”

  “That’s blackmail.” I’m glaring at him, terrified for some stupid reason about the idea of going to the store with him. I’m pregnant. I’m fat. I’m ugly. And he’s so darn beautiful!

  “I’ve done much worse,” he says, darkness moving over his face for a moment. “Please?” The shadow disappears with that one word and suddenly he’s years younger.

  It’s the politeness that gets me. There’s so little of it left in my world. My parents were always sticklers for it, but here in this apartment, I don’t hear much in the way of please and thank you. It’s not that I’m a hard-butt about that stuff, but it is possible I’m missing my family and their habits. I hate that this is the case. I want to be as free of them as they are of me.

  “Fine,” I say, admitting defeat. Teagan was right earlier; I do need to get out of the house. I feel like a vegetable - a big leafy green one with zero personality. And it doesn’t matter that I’m fat and ugly. Colin would never be interested in me anyway, and I would never be seriously interested in a guy like him either, so who cares if my hair is a mess and I have a stretch mark on my thigh? “Let me get my purse.”

  “You don’t need your purse, I’ll get you whatever you want.”

  I hate the uncomfortable feeling his statement gives me. “I don’t need your charity.”

  “It’s not charity. It’s paying you off for tampon shopping. Trust me, it’ll be worth every penny.”

  Giving up on finding my purse, I shake my head at him as we walk out of the apartment and down to the car. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” I say. “They’re just tampons.”

  “Could we please just stop saying that word?” he says, as he walks ahead of me down the stairs.

  “What word? Tampon?”

  “Yes.”

  I’m tempted to do a soliloquy on tampons right then and there, but I resist. It would be too much like flirting. Instead, I follow him silently out to his black car and get in the front seat next to him, folding my hands tightly and placing them in my lap.

  Just breathe, Alissa. Just breathe. I stare out the window, refusing to give into the temptation and look sideways at him. He’s just a guy bringing you to the grocery store so you can buy tampons for a friend. It’s no big deal. I keep saying that to myself over and over, but by the time we get there, the silence between us has stretched so far and so wide, it’s almost suffocatingly stressful.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I HAVEN’T BEEN TO THE grocery store in ages, and never to this particular one. It’s kind of dirty or old or something - nothing like the place where my family shops, with its shiny chrome surfaces and gourmet cheeses and meats - but the food looks fine. Not that I can afford to be picky anymore.

  My mood picks up in the produce section. As I wander over to a giant bin of apples, enthralled by their color and shape, I feel like Snow White must have when the witch dropped by with her poisoned snack. As Colin fills up a plastic bag with bananas, I stand in front of the big, red juicy fruits with my mouth watering.

  Unable to help myself, I reach out and touch one. It’s shiny and pink, not totally red, reminding me of my favorite summer lipgloss. I’ve never seen an apple like this before. I wish I had the money for extras, because if I did, I’d buy six of them. There’s only seventeen dollars and eighty-one cents left in my purse, and I didn’t even bring my wallet with me.

  “Pink Lady,” a voice says over my shoulder.

  I jump to the side in fright.

  Colin.

  He’s really good at sneaking up behind people, making me wonder if cat-burglaring is in his repertoire. Knowing him, it probably is.

  “What?” I ask, trying to get control of my racing pulse while acting like he doesn’t send my system into complete overload just by being close.

  He reaches around me and grabs one of the apples, tossing it up and catching it right in front of my face. “This … is a Pink Lady apple, a cross between the Golden Delicious and the Lady Williams.” He rips a plastic bag off the roll and starts putting some of the rosy apples inside without saying anything else

  I stand there staring at him, not sure if he’s totally messing with me or if he really knows what he’s talking about. He sounded for a brief moment like a science teacher I once had and liked a lot.

  “You’re staring at me again,” he says. He looks over briefly at me and smiles before going back to his apple-bagging. He totally knows what that smile does to girls.

  “I’m not staring,” I say, my face flaming up to the point that I’m sure it looks like one of those fruits. “And I haven’t been staring.” I’m totally busted. How many times has he caught me? God, I’m just like every other girl on the planet. Easy to manipulate with just a look. Ugh.

  “Okay, then, stop making gooey eyes at me.” He’s smiling but that doesn’t make me feel any less stupid.

  “You are so full of yourself, you know that? And it’s not gooey eyes, it’s goo-goo eyes.” I snort. “Like I’d have goo-goo eyes over someone like you.” I walk away, leaving him to suffer my serious burn. Chew on that for awhile, Colin, you big dummy. You’re not so great.

  I want to feel like the champion of all come-backs and satisfied with having knocked him down a peg or two, but instead I feel completely stupid. I’m a pregnant girl with sausagey ankles, accused of checking out a guy who’s so far out of her league and even out of her universe it’s not even funny. Yuck. And I thought my life couldn’t get any worse. Wrong again. I used to be so calm. So cool. So collected. So focused. When did everything get so out of control? Why have I let it go this far?

 
I stop my inner diatribe when I reach the end of the ladies’ products aisle and take a left. Upon reaching the tampon section, I realize I might have a problem. My eyes scan the shelves. Which brand does she want? Did she mention it? I don’t recall hearing any of the brand names I see here. What style does she prefer? I’m chewing on my lip as I consider my choices when a voice comes from behind me.

  “If you need some of those, I’d say you’re in a bit of trouble.”

  I turn around to face the woman standing there. She’s tall and thin, with perfectly straight, shoulder-length blonde hair, expertly highlighted. I’m jealous of the ribbon hair-band she’s used to keep her long bangs out of her eyes. I used to look like that - perfectly put together and neat - back before I got pregnant and stopped caring about pretty much anything.

  “Oh. I don’t need any tampons,” I say, my face going red. Then I actually snort at the ridiculousness of it. I quickly start talking again to distract her from my eerily good imitation of a potbelly pig. “They’re for my friend. Really, they are.” I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous and feel the need to convince her. It’s not like I’m in the drug aisle.

  “Are you okay?” the woman asks. She reaches out as if to touch my arm.

  I move away to avoid her, my back hitting the shelves behind me. “I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.” I look to the left and right, searching for an escape route. She’s not being mean or even overly weird, but I can’t help feeling nervous about random acts of niceness. After having been rejected by my own family, it seems like a mean trick.

  She smiles and moves to the side a little, giving me more space. I could run down towards the meat counter area if I really wanted to. She’s being completely non-threatening.

  “Okay,” she says, “it just seems like maybe you’re a little … stressed.” She looks down at my belly. “I hear being pregnant can do that to you.”

  She looks so sad when she says it, I don’t run away like my first instinct tells me to. “Do you have kids?” I realize what a stupid question that is as soon as my brain re-processes what she just said. I wish I could take the words back when I see her expression.

  “Unfortunately, no. My husband and I have been trying for years, but it looks like it’s just not going to happen for us.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad.” I feel awkward and silly, having this conversation with a complete stranger. But to leave her in the dust now would be rude, and as much as I seem to have forgotten my manners with Colin, I can’t leave them behind now. Not with this lady. Not in this situation.

  “Heartbreaking is more the adjective I’d use, but that’s neither here nor there.” She visibly perks up. “I hope your pregnancy is going well.”

  “If you count stretch marks and swollen ankles as going well, then I guess I’m in good shape.”

  The woman sighs, looking at my belly again. “I envy you those things.”

  The baby takes that moment to do a complete flip and my stomach warps into a weird oval shape. It’s really uncomfortable, so I push my hands on either end of the bulges, trying to massage her into a more round shape. She complies within seconds of feeling my pressure, flipping back in the other direction and settling into a ball-shape again.

  “Oh my god,” the woman whispers. “I just saw it move, didn’t I?” She has tears in her eyes.

  I want to cry right along with her. The world is so freaking unfair. Here I am standing here regretting my life while this complete stranger envies it. Where is the justice in that?

  “Do you want to feel her?” I ask. I’ve never done that before, offered up my belly to a complete stranger. No one has felt this baby move but me; but for some reason, this feels like the right thing to do.

  The woman looks at me, her eyes all shiny and her face practically glowing. “Really? I’d love to.”

  I shrug. “Sure. Go ahead.” I’m nervous, but I don’t back away.

  The woman wastes no time. Moving over to stand closer, she puts one hand on the front of me, just above my belly-button, which is sticking out like a gross marble.

  “It’s better if you use two hands,” I say, feeling shy and at the same time wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. Now that her hand is on me, I realize how creepy this is. A grocery store aisle. A stranger. My belly in her hands. What am I doing? Who am I today? I’ve never acted so completely out of character in my life. This is Colin’s doing. I’m going to blame this entire episode on his influence.

  Her second hand comes up and sits next to the first.

  I take her wrists and adjust her hands more to the sides, where I think she’ll feel some of the movement. The baby tends to kick on the left and right rather than on my bladder, thank goodness.

  The woman jumps with surprise a split second after I feel the baby move.

  “I felt it! I felt it!” Tears roll down her cheeks as more kicks and bumps happen under her fingers. She doesn’t bother to wipe them away; she’s too la-la over feeling the baby gymnastics.

  I can’t stop staring at her. She’s a total mess over something completely silly.

  “Oh my god, it’s a miracle,” she says, her voice all weepy. “The miracle of life is right here in your body. You are so lucky. You are so blessed.” She lets go of my stomach and grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me into a hug that’s so enthusiastic, I’m afraid she’s going mental on me. But then she lets me go and wipes away her tears with shaking fingers. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s coming over me right now. I’m never so publicly demonstrative.”

  “Maybe it’s baby fever?” I say, worried she’s going to start crying again.

  She nods as more tears slip out. “Yes. Baby fever is right.” She looks up the aisle towards the front of the store before going back to looking at me. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

  I shrug. “No big deal.”

  She stops crying and stares me dead in the eye, now all of a sudden serious. “Don’t ever say that. Cherish what you have. Never ever forget to be grateful for that which you’ve been given.”

  I open my mouth to respond to her almost-sermon, but nothing will come out. And that’s probably okay, since she doesn’t stick around to hear what’s on my mind anyway.

  The woman takes off without another word, abandoning her cart in the middle of the aisle and jogging out the front doors. A couple seconds later, she’s getting into a silver mini-van and leaving the parking lot going a lot faster than she probably should. She barely stops before jumping out onto the road and speeding off.

  Colin comes up next to me. “Who was that?” he asks, watching her go too.

  “Some lady who freaked out after she felt the baby move.” I look down into her cart. There’s fruit, vegetables, and several jars of baby food in there. Baby food? What would she need baby food for if she doesn’t have any kids?

  Colin’s gaze drops to my belly. “She felt your baby move?”

  I look at him and frown. “Yes, my baby. Who else’s baby would I be talking about?”

  “You can feel it move?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I mean, another person can feel it move? Like, a stranger?”

  “Yeeeess.” I feel like this is a trick question.

  He’s still staring at my belly. It starts to get awkward.

  “Are you trying to make her move?” I ask, amused by the expression on his face.

  “Her who?”

  “Her the baby.”

  He looks up quickly at me. “Can I do that?”

  I laugh. “Not with your Vulcan mind power, no, but with your hands, probably.”

  “What?”

  “You’re seriously confused right now, aren’t you?” I ask. This is a revelation to me. For some reason I was thinking a guy who knows about hybrid apple types would also know about the wonders of pregnancy, but apparently his knowledge is reserved for the world of botany.

  “No, I’m not confused.” He looks at me like I’m the stupid one for a few seconds, but wh
en I glare at him, he caves. “Okay, maybe I am a little.”

  I sigh, feeling like I’m talking to a fourth grader. “She moves all the time, pretty much. But if she’s not moving, I can make her move by giving her a poke.”

  “A poke? You actually poke your baby?”

  I slap him lightly on the arm. “Don’t say it like that. It’s not like I’m torturing her.”

  He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t think you should poke her. That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Would you shut up?” I turn away from him and look at the shelf in front of me. “I’m trying to buy tampons right now.”

  He looks up at the shelves. “Oh, shit. I’m in the tampon aisle.”

  I can’t help but laugh when I look at him and catch his horrified expression. “Yes, you are. Watch out, they’re going to get you!” Without thinking, I grab a box off the shelf and throw it at him.

  It bounces off his massive chest.

  “Cut it out,” he says in a low whisper. The box clatters to the floor.

  “Uh-oh! Here come some pads!” I say, tossing the next item at him.

  The soft, plastic pack hits him in the forehead.

  “What are those!” he yells, jumping out of the way as the pads bounce off to his right. He’s high-stepping as he moves out of the way like he has big, scary football players coming to tackle his stupid butt.

  In my deranged mind, I’m a football coach now and he’s on my team. Time for some calisthenics! “Move! Move! Move!” I yell, nailing him with box after box of tampons, pads and whatever else I can find nearby and grab from the shelves. I’m possessed. I cannot control myself for some reason and I don’t want to. This is like getting high without drugs.

  “Jesus Christ, Alissa, you’re losing it! Stop! You’re making a fucking mess!” He’s running, jumping, and in between all his evasive maneuvers, picking up the boxes off the floor and holding them in his arms. It’s almost like a contest now to see how many boxes and bags I can get him to pick up and hold at one time. We should be on a game show. We’d totally win.

  Colin has about ten boxes stacking up in his arms and his face is bright red. My arm is poised over my shoulder as I’m about to launch a super-sized box of old-school sanitary pads, otherwise known in my house as mouse mattresses, at him. I’m sure this will make all the other boxes fall out of his arms. He’s like the duck in the county fair midway game and I’m about to nail him with my fake bullet and knock him over. KA-BLAM!