Slow Burn Part 47

I wasn't thinking straight. I remember being so p.i.s.sed-some at my dad, but mostly at this woman for destroying my family, and making my mother cry. I jumped on my bike, and rode all the way over to Dean's neighborhood, forty-five minutes away by bike. I barely felt the burn in my leg muscles as I pedaled at a furious speed to Dean's house.

I don't know what I thought I was going to do once I got there. But I saw Dean in his driveway, dragging boxes out of the garage, his dark hair flopping into his eyes-and something just snapped in me. I rode right up to him, and started screaming at him. I called both him and his mother every bad name I could think of-and that was a lot, thanks inadvertently to Mich.e.l.le.

I remember Dean's face getting darker and more thunderous as I ranted on, his odd-colored eyes narrowing when I started pushing him. He never hit me back-but when I called his mother something very terrible, he got p.i.s.sed enough to pick up my bike and throw it out of his driveway, hard enough to break the chain and a handlebar. A man came out of the house after that, and I got scared and ran away, leaving my broken bike behind. Thankfully, Diego's house was just a couple of streets down, and his mother was nice enough to drive me home.

The next day, I found my bike leaning against our garage door, good as new. I never saw Dean at the park again after that.

I guess I never thought about it, but he must have found out about him mom's affair from me. He did look stunned when I screamed at him about it. What an awful way for Dean to find out. At the time, I wasn't concerned about his feelings. He was the boy who made my life miserable, and his mom was the woman who ruined it. I hated them both.

It's strange to realize how much our lives have intersected. You'd think we were destined to be together, or something.

Chapter 51.

By the end of school the next day, I'm about ready to crawl my car, and burst into tears. Rumors are swirling through the air about the nasty little s.k.a.n.k (me) being pa.s.sed around between the football players (mainly Dean and Johnny, but apparently they're generous) like a collection plate. It's like my first day here, but worse because of Dean's involvement. Everyone seems to know about that kiss yesterday-and a lot of girls are p.i.s.sed. Dean Youngblood doesn't go around kissing girls like me. He's supposed to be unattainable, and there are at least thirty-eight girls ahead of me that would have made much more sense for him to want. So I must do things that good girls don't, right? That's what they tell me, anyway. I've never heard of most of those moves they accuse me of being an expert at, and I make the mistake of looking some of them up. I have to wonder why there is even a technical term for that thing with the bottle caps. It doesn't seem physically possible to me.

Tanya warns me not to go online, because it's even worse in cybers.p.a.ce. Awesome. I don't care anymore. I've never been gossiped about so much in my life, since going to this s.h.i.tty school. I remind myself that I only have a few months left, then I'll go off to college, and they can all go to h.e.l.l.

Yeah, tough words from someone who is currently sniffing back big baby tears. What they're saying hits too close to home. I could have gone my whole life without being called a (insert bodily fluid here) dumpster. Some of these rich chicks are brutal with their insults. Do they hang out in dark alleys to learn to talk like that? My G.o.d.

So, between all the direct confrontations and whispered accusations, I'm just done for the day. I make a beeline for the parking lot with my head down, and mowing down any unsuspecting freshmen unlucky enough to get in my way. If I can just get to my car, I'll be okay. I can go home and pretend like this day never happened.

Well, that was the plan-until I get to my parking spot, and find Dean leaning against my car like it's never been leaned on before. My heart nearly lunges out of my chest at the sight of him. He's wearing jeans and a gray shirt, not his uniform, which confirms my suspicion that he skipped school today. He looks amazing-I can never not notice. Oh, my G.o.d. Now I know why they use hot models to sell cars. I would buy my old Nissan again, if Dean came with it.

His gaze zeroes in on me standing there like a statue, and he immediately straightens. His expression goes from closed off to one of imperious determination. He starts to take a step toward me.

This morning, I would have given my entire carousel horse collection for Dean to talk to me again. Now-I just want to go home. I am too close to the edge of my limits to hear anything he has to say right now. That's why I do an abrupt about-face-and slam nose first into a rock hard chest.

"Wrong direction, girl." Big Mack chuckles as he steadies me with both hands. "Home is that way." He nods his chin toward Dean.

I hold my tender nose while trying to get around him. "I forgot something in my locker," I lie.

"Come on, it can wait until tomorrow," Mack says, and picks me up when I refuse to turn back again.

I hold myself as stiffly as possible, but not like it's any kind of impediment for him. He just carries me over to Dean, and plops me down right in front of him. I should have never made that wish about Mack carting me around because look what happens! Humiliating.

"Thanks, Mack," Dean says quietly, watching me.

Mack flashes us both a dazzling white grin. "No problem, cuz. I'll see you two later."

I glare at Mack's retreating back for a couple of satisfying seconds before I turn to Dean with a sigh. "Look, can we talk later? I really need to go home, and-I really can't do this right now."

"It's important," he says, looking down at me with an immovable expression. "I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't."

I take my time debating internally while he waits patiently. I don't care how good an excuse he has, he still cut me open-and it is so hard right now to pretend that his presence isn't shattering me into a million pieces right now.

"Fine, but not here," I decide, glancing around at all the nosy groups of people loitering around to watch us. "Meet me at Sally Brown park."

Dean's eyebrows go up at that. It was the first place I could think of, which is really weird. Well, I guess it's as good a place as any. Without waiting for an answer, I open my car door, throw my bag in the pa.s.senger seat, and slide in. By the time I start the engine, Dean's is striding over to the Pontiac, parked in the row across from me. He glances over his shoulder at me as I pull out of my s.p.a.ce. I wonder if he's worried I'll ditch him?

Maybe that's why he follows right on my tail to Sally Brown. He parks in the stall next to mine, and is just getting out while I'm already walking up the hill. It's windy today, so I wrap my arms around myself for warmth and let the breeze blow my hair back.

I experience a pleasant jolt of nostalgia. Nothing's really changed in the years that I was last here, though everything looks smaller than I remember. Hm, I guess it's a matter of perspective. There are little kids crawling all over the play equipment, and the field is currently the scene of an intense soccer match. Along the edges of the game are populated with parents in fold-out chairs, or sprawled on blankets. Man, I picked the wrong time and location to have a private talk.

Well, there's no one on top of this hill. With a little shrug, I drop down into a sitting position, careful to keep my skirt over my thighs. Seconds later, Dean lowers himself next to me. He doesn't say anything, and we watch the game for a while. The soccer players are pre-teen girls, and they are fierce. More than a few of them are staring our way-rather, Dean's way. Oh, ouch! One gaping girl just got beamed in the head with the ball. I can totally sympathize.

I'm really hoping Dean doesn't notice that I'm shaking so hard right now, just from being next to him. He's so close, his arm and leg keep brushing against me. My skin craves the contact like sunlight after being in the dark for a year. I can't help but think of that night he touched me everywhere.

I turn my flaming face into the wind, hoping to cool it off. When I sneak a glance at Dean, I notice how rigid his muscles are. He's looking at me like I hold the answers to every question.

"You went to Liddell," he says finally. "Why?"

I look up at him with the beginnings of a frown. "What do you mean?" I say angrily. "I told her the truth. What, did you think I was going to let you go down for something you didn't do because of what you said to me?"

"I wouldn't have blamed you," Dean says quietly. His attention seems to be on the soccer game in front of us.

I restlessly pluck at the blades of gra.s.s by my legs. "Yeah, well, it wouldn't have been right. Besides, I know you didn't mean any of it."

His gaze is sharp when he looks back at me. "You know?" he repeats.

"Yeah." I struggle to appear nonchalant as I give a little shrug. "You would never hurt me like that. You're not that kind of person. I trust you."

Dean holds my gaze for a long moment. Then he shakes his head, laughing incredulously. "You're amazing," he murmurs, not in a mean way.

I shift so I'm on my knees, facing him attentively. "I figure Kara has something on you, right? You're not...are you the arsonist?"

His eyes widen, the he starts chuckling again. "No," he chokes out.

"I didn't think so." I flush slightly. "You used to steal cars luxury cars in L.A., then. And Kara has proof."

This time Dean gives me a small enigmatic smile. "She doesn't have proof of anything."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Then what does she have?"

His smirk fades, his expression turning grim. "It's bad," he admits softly.

"Tell me."

Dean looks up at me. "She has a video of us having s.e.x."

I can only stare at him in absolute horror. It feels like an ice cold bucket of dread has been thrown in my face. "What?" I finally gasp, violently hoping that I heard wrong.

"You remember Dan mentioning that she'd been out on the boat that day? Finley told her that they were expecting us for the night. She paid him to film us in the cabin."

I run my shaking hands over my face. "She what? But...how? We saw him leave with Captain Dan after they served us dinner!"

Dean's face is dark with carefully suppressed rage. "He jumped off, and swam back. When we were distracted, he sneaked on board and hid in the master cabin. All he had to do was wait until we went below. He recorded us from the head with the door cracked open."

I fervently try to remember the layout of the boat. The bathroom had two doors of entry-one opened up to the galley, and the other to our cabin. Finley could have easily slipped in from the galley, and-oh, s.h.i.t. There was maybe three feet of clearance from the bathroom to the foot of the bed.

"He must have seen everything," I whisper, suddenly nauseous. "Oh, my G.o.d. Dean-we-oh, my G.o.d..."

I put my head down, trying to control my breathing. I feel like I'm hyperventilating! Dean immediately pulls me into his arms. "I'm so sorry," he says hoa.r.s.ely, holding me tightly.

"That's how she knew. About you g-about the details. " My voice sounds dazed, I realize in a curiously detached way. Then I stare at him in horror. "Did you watch it?"

"I saw some of it," he confirms, his expression tight.

I wanna die right now. "Oh, my G.o.d. How many people have seen it?"

"Kara, Finley...maybe a couple of others." Dean suddenly releases me. I watch as he pulls something out of his back jeans pocket. It looks like a flash drive. "I got this copy from Finley. He tried to sell it to me."

He hands it over to me, and I numbly accept it. "How much did you pay for it?"

"I didn't."

He flashes his teeth in a deadly smile that has me wondering if Finley's body is floating somewhere out there in the ocean. I kind of hope it is.

"Was Captain Dan in on it?" I ask, mostly to distract myself from wondering what Dean did to get the flash drive.

Dean gives a curt nod. "Finely was blackmailing him. He had videos of them together. He was threatening to send them to Dan's wife."

My lip curls in disgust as I process this. Captain Dan is an a.s.s. But back to the bigger picture. "So, Kara-what? She told you about the video, then she blackmailed you?"

"She said she'd send it to everyone in school." He lets his head fall back. "She wanted me to break up with you-in the cruelest way possible. She said she wanted pictures of us, so you would think that we were hooking up the whole time I was with you."

I visibly wince, pulling back. "You kissed her. After we were together."

His jaw clenches. "Yes."

"Did you do anything else?" I swallow past a huge lump in my throat. "She was naked on your bed. Did you take that picture?"

Dean is completely disgusted. "No. I never-she was on my bed?"

I almost want to laugh on the look on his face right now. Instead, I breathe a sigh of relief. Then I shake my head. "I get that Kara hates me, but this is insane. Why would she go through the trouble?"

He exhales slowly, looking away. "She wants to be my girlfriend," he confesses. "She wanted us to be seen as an official couple. She tried to get me to have s.e.x with her, but I wouldn't. I couldn't."

Dean's eyes are on me, but I can't quite meet them. I am sick with jealousy, thinking about Kara pressing herself against him, kissing him...touching him where I touched him. My blood starts boiling furiously. I have to stick the flash drive in my pocket before I crush it in a death grip.

"Okay," I say, striving for calm. "What happened? How did you convince her not to send out the video of us?"

"I had to find something on her, something that I could bargain with. I started thinking about what you said about her being the one who set the smoke bombs..."

I gasp so hard I choke on air. "I knew it!" I shout, suddenly feeling vindicated.

Dean patiently waits for me to finish gloating. I turn away so he doesn't see the maniacal grin on my face. When I turn back to him, I'm more composed. I raise my eyebrows, indicating for him to continue.

"I talked to the other guys. Johnny still thought Bobo Frederico had something to do with the fires. Nick mentioned that he had played paintball with Bobo and a bunch of others a couple of years ago, and he remembered that they used smoke bombs. So we had a talk with him."

"Bobo was her accomplice?" I interrupt, frowning fiercely. "That b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Wait until I tell Tanya!"

But Dean is shaking his head. "It wasn't him-he was in L.A. visiting his father that day. But he told us who used to make the smoke bombs for their paintball games-Dalton Paley."

"Why does that name sound familiar?" I tilt my head to the side, frowning. "I think he might be one of Tanya's friends."

"Yeah, he hangs out with Frederico."

"Oh," I say. "He's the janitor's son! I met him at one of your parties."

Dean nods. "Johnny saw him and Kara coming out of a bedroom together. He thought it was weird since she doesn't look twice at anyone outside of her social circles. So I had a talk with him."

He says that last part with absolutely no inflection in his voice, and so I mentally subst.i.tute "talk" with "beat down." Man, Dean's been busy.

"Kara is the arsonist," I say slowly. "She was using that Dalton guy because his dad has keys to the school. G.o.d, she really is crazy. Does she need attention that badly?"

"A couple of years ago, she found out that her biological father is Rigby, the school psychologist," Dean says after a slight pause. "It p.i.s.sed her off that he never publically acknowledged her. I guess the fires were her way of getting back at him."

I suddenly recall the story about Mr. Rigby and the mother/daughter threesome. It must've been Kara, but it wasn't a menage a trois-it was a confrontation about paternity. I picture the school psychologist in my head. He looks nothing like his red-headed, nutcase, illegitimate daughter. He seems to be a lot nicer, too.

I look up at Dean, studying his face. "Do you have proof that she set those fires, and set up the smoke bombs?"

He suddenly grins-this heart-stopping, dangerously s.e.xy grin that about makes me fall over backwards. "We have her confessing on video."

"Um, how did that happen?"

Dean tells me about last night when he, Ben, and Arianna went over to Kara's. Dean distracted Kara while Ben sneaked into her room to look for copies of the video on her laptop. According to Dean, Arianna not only told Ben where to look-she was the one who secretly recorded Kara admitting to setting the fires when he confronted her!

I know! That girl is getting a hug whether she wants one, or not!

"Arianna didn't know about the fires, or the video," Dean says in answer to my question. "She didn't realize just how vindictive Kara could be."

I find that hard to believe, but whatever, she ended up doing the right thing. "So what happens now?" I wonder out loud.

"That flash drive has Kara's confession on it. It's up to you what you want to do with it," Dean says quietly. He's got his Zippo in his hand, and is absently flicking it open and shut. "Ben erased the files he found on her laptop, but we can't be sure she doesn't have more copies out there. I don't think she'd risk putting it on her phone, but I can't say for certain."

"You think if we went to the police, she'd be p.i.s.sed enough to send the video out, anyway," I say, and he nods once in agreement. "She would. She hates me enough to do it."

"I'm sorry you got involved in this." Dean looks away with a grimace. "It killed me to say those things to you."

"It killed me to hear them," I admit, hugging myself tightly. "I don't know what to...I-I can't believe there's a video of us. I feel sick!"