Rock My Heart (Luminescent Juliet #4) by Jean Haus Page A

hair extending
past a hard jaw line lined with his nearly ever-present, sexy scruff. He is a
tsunami of male brilliance that rolls over me in wave after wave. I’m a
sunbaked, parched island shocked at the sudden drench.
    Butterflies flutter in my stomach—I never understood
the reference until now—while words build in my conscious, trying to form
lyrics to his beauty. Longing pounds in my chest—thump, want, thump—and desire
curls my fingers around the edge of the bench. I feel dizzy, like I’m about to
fall backwards off the bench and into another world. My grasp strengthens until
my fingernails cut into the wood. I don’t want to fall.
    His gaze turns speculative as I attempt to control
the blast of longing hitting me. “Your cousin’s death really messed you up, huh?”
    The question breaks the spell that my sudden
awareness of him spun.
    I instantly let go of the bench. “Yeah, it did,” I
agree, as grief and guilt twist and tear throughout me, their thorny vines
cutting and slicing. As usual, I run from the old wound that never ceases to
feel freshly open if faced. “I need to get going.” I jump up and quickly smash
all our trash in the burger bag. “I have homework to do.” Both statements are
honest. At least separately.
    “Sorry,” he says, standing, running a hand through his
hair, and wearing a contrite expression. “I’m guessing you don’t like to talk
about it.”
    I pause in the middle of pushing the bag in the
trash. A sad laugh escapes me. “That would be an understatement.” I step away
from the trash bin, reaching for my purse on the table. “Really, I have to get
going.” I don’t wait for a response, just march to my car.
    Once Gabe gives me directions to his house, the ride
is quiet with the blare of rock music. Luckily for me, Gabe seems to sense my
mood. Though I suppose it isn’t too hard to perceive how I just shut down—the
only way I can deal with the past. Once I faced my wrong, accepted it, and
decided to make amends, I had to move on or the guilt would have destroyed me,
and most times I fear it still could.
    I pull in front of Gabe’s house, my mind in tumult.
    He breaks the silence by saying, “Piece of shit,
huh?”
    Confused, I look at him then the house. Small with a
sagging porch, peeling white paint, and cracked windows, the house is old. The
weeds and overgrown bushes in the yard don’t help improve the broken down
appearance of the house. Obviously, it screams poverty, and apparently this is
some kind of test. How horrified will she
be? I’m not in the mood for his test.
    I shake my head a bit. “It’s just a house. It’s not
like it’s a sneak peek into your talent or soul or something.”
    He stares at me for a long moment, as if trying to
gage the authenticity of my words. “Well, I’m almost out of this shithole,” he
says, tugging the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.”
    Caught in the perfection of his face for a quick
second, I quickly snap forward. “No problem. Thanks for…lunch, and for sharing
with Jeff.”
    And with that, he is out of the car. I shift into
drive and let out the breath I’d been holding in. Between my weird reaction to
him and his bringing up Rachel, I feel like I’ve been through the wringer.
    Too bad I don’t have a ton
of homework instead of just a six page paper to write.
    I love homework.
    It keeps me busy.
    And sane.
    And until now, oblivious to the word lust.

 
 
 
     

Chapter 11
    ~April~

 
 
 
    Fridays. No work. No
classes. No group therapy. Nothing to eat the time away. I’ve cleaned my living
room and kitchen top to bottom, and they both needed it. Finished my reading for
the next week and completed the rough draft of my final paper for Clinical
Psychology which isn’t even due until December. Re-read some parts of my old
psychology textbooks. Enjoyed two hours of crap TV. It appears the only thing
to do is go to bed. At nine-forty at night.
    My ten measly credits are killing me.
    With