Mercedes
WHEN I RETURNED TO Gabe’s house after dropping Molly at home, it was with a fresh perspective and an open mind. Rourke wasn’t the bastard I had thought.
Sure, he was still a bastard, but he had reasons.
Valid reasons.
Reasons I could relate to.
Reasons I knew could warp a person’s mind.
Reasons that could ruin lives.
No wonder he despised me and mom. I got it.
Truly, I did.
And the attitude Rourke had with his father?
Yep. Got that, too.
Instead of the usual pent up frustration and burning anger I felt when I pulled into the driveway and saw Rourke’s shiny black Chevrolet Silverado, I was filled with…understanding and hope?
Of course, that empathy was watered down with a huge dash of disgust the moment I stepped foot through the door to the sound of T Spoon’s version of Janis Joplin’s Mercedes Benz filling the house.
The music was playing at an obscenely loud volume and it instantly pissed me off. I knew who was responsible for it.
Of course, the clever bastard had screwed around with the song and switched the words ‘Oh Lord’ to ‘Oh Gabe.’
It hurt, but not nearly as much as it pissed me off.
“Rourke!” Slamming the front door closed behind me, I stalked towards the staircase, not stopping until I had climbed the entire flight and was standing outside his bedroom. “Rourke!” Slamming the palm of my hand against the door, I fought down the urge to rip the damn thing off its hinges, stomp in there and kick his stupid, beautiful ass.
Why the hell did Gabe let him get away with this crap?
“Rourke!” I repeated, pounding on his door.
He yanked the door open so quickly that I almost fell forward. “What?”
“Are you playing that on purpose?” I demanded, feeling irrationally furious. “That damn song?”
His grin widened. “Thought you’d appreciate it.”
He didn’t even try to deny it. He was playing that song to get a reaction out of me. Mission accomplished. “Well, I don’t,” I snapped. “So turn the damn thing off.”
“What?” he chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “I like the song.”
He didn’t like the song. I had lived with Rourke long enough to know his musical preferences.
He liked rock.
He did this to hurt me, to let me know what he thought of me.
A gold digger.
All of the empathy I had felt for him earlier evaporated into a haze of rage.
“Turn it off,” I hissed, jaw clenched, as I stared up at his frosty blue eyes. “Now.”
Lowering his face to within inches of mine, he smirked and said, “Make me.”
I would not cry.
I would not cry.
“You are the biggest jackass I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing,” I snarled, cheeks burning.
“Meeting? Probably. But knowing?” Rourke shook his head and smirked. “You don’t know me, Six.”
I hated him.
I really did.
Turning away before I exposed myself to this cruel boy, I strode down the hallway and into my room.
I knew why he was doing this. It was because of my mom and her stupid shopping spree.
Goddammit, I wasn’t my mother and I was sick to death of being punished for being her daughter.
Rourke
I TOOK IT TOO FAR.
Messing around with my computer this afternoon, I had stumbled over that fucking song and decided to screw around with the sound by changing up the words. What had possessed me to do that to her; I had no answer. Six didn’t deserve that.
In my defense, I thought Six would laugh it off. She didn’t. She looked like she was about two seconds away from crying when she ran into her bedroom.
Feeling like a dick, I stood outside her door, with one hand on my head and the other on the handle. Even though the word was foreign to me, I wasn’t that big of a bastard that I didn’t know what I needed to do.
Apologize.
“Six?” Turning the handle, I pushed the door inwards and walked inside. I didn’t bother knocking because I knew there was a huge chance she wouldn’t let me in if I did. Playing that song was a dick move and I knew it. When I stepped into her room, her bed was empty and still made. The sound of the shower running alerted me to the fact that she was in her bathroom.
Walking over to Six’s bed, I sank down on the purple comforter and waited for her to come out of the bathroom. When she finally did, she greeted me with a high-pitched scream.
“Rourke!” Six hissed, clutching the towel she had wrapped around her very wet – very naked – body. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“What I did with that song?” Jerking off the bed, I turned my back to her, averting my eyes from her almost naked body. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.” No shit, Sherlock! “I won’t do it again.”
“Are you apologizing to me?” her voice was laced with surprise.
“Yeah, and you might wanna record it.” I shrugged, looking down at the floor. “Because it doesn’t happen often.”
“Wow.” Her voice was soft. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I frowned. What the fuck was okay supposed to mean?
“Yeah,” Six replied. “Okay.” I listened intently to the ruffling noises and sound of drawers opening and closing behind me. “I forgive you,” she finally said, coming to stand in front of me, dressed in a tank and pajama shorts. “Just don’t… do that to me again, okay?”
I nodded. “I won’t.”
“I’m not my mother, Rourke,” Six added, voice thick with emotion, as she looked up at me with those big, grey eyes. “I’m here because I don’t have a choice.” She folded her arms across her chest as she spoke, never taking her eyes off my face. “I don’t want your father to take care of me. And I don’t want his money either. All I want is to finish high school and get the hell out of here.”
I knew that. Fuck, deep down inside I think I always knew it. One look in her eyes and a blind man could see the sincerity pouring out of her. So why couldn’t I just accept it and be nice to the girl?
Because you’re afraid of the way she makes you feel a voice in my head screamed. It was the same voice I’d been trying to block out since she walked into my house.