at him, hoping it will buy me a few seconds, and he waves back in a way that tells me he needs me to walk in his direction. That works well for me.
“Is that a friend of yours?” Drix asks.
“Yes, but no.” I borrow his answer because it’s apropos. Andrew’s a few years older. More friend of our family than a personal friend of mine, and I don’t like the idea of explaining that my parents think I need a babysitter.
Drix’s mouth twitches at my words, and my lips also edge upward. “I just made you smile a third time. Is this a Guinness Book of World Records thing?”
“I liked your answer.”
“I’m just creative like that.”
This time, there’s a short chuckle, and I like that sound almost more than I like him smiling. I kick at a rock before gathering my courage to meet his eyes again. “Thank you for helping me out.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I’m waiting, and I don’t have much time. He needs to ask my name. He needs to ask for my number. I’ll give him both—in a nanosecond. “I’ve got to go.”
“It was nice to meet you,” he says with all the smooth edginess that can only belong to a gentle rebel. It’s like his voice was created to slay unsuspecting hearts.
Adrenaline courses through my veins because if I do this and he rejects me, I might as well tattoo a big fat L to my forehead and die of humiliation. “I’ll give you my number if you want or you can give me yours...if you’d like. If you’d like to talk again or...hang. My name’s Elle, by the way.”
Drix rubs the back of his head like what I said made him uncomfortable, and I seriously want to crawl behind the game and die. I’m being rejected.
“Look.” He hesitates, and my entire body flashes sickeningly vomit hot. “I meant what I said earlier. You’re out of my league. Way out of my league. And it would be easy for you to think I’m a good guy because I stepped in.”
And because he paid money to let a little kid win, but hey...who’s keeping score?
Me. I’m keeping score.
“I just got home from being gone for a year, and I’m only interested in making friends. Besides, I don’t want you to think I stepped in because I wanted your number. I ask for your number, and it’ll come off that I’m saving the day to get something out of it. That’s not why I did it. I stepped in because not all guys are assholes.”
His voice just doesn’t melt hearts, his words do, too, and this guy doesn’t want my number. As far as rejections go, it could have gone worse.
“Let’s go, Elle.” Andrew cups both of his hands to his mouth. The sand must be narrowing down in the hourglass.
“Well...” Find something graceful. “Thanks for stepping in when you did...both times.”
Drix inclines his head, and his dark eyes soften in such a way that I may as well become a puddle on the ground. “Anytime.”
Why doesn’t the world have a million guys like this? That should be one of my father’s political agendas—create more gentlemen.
Drix turns away from me and walks toward the midway. I stay rooted to the spot because I don’t want this moment to end. Some people live their whole lives for the past few minutes I just had, and I want to savor it a little longer.
This time, though, he glances over his shoulder to look at me. I smile. He smiles. That would make it number four. Guess I’m just talented like that, and then with a sigh, I leave.
“Let me make sure I have this correct.” Cynthia leans forward, places her elbows on the table and has this starry-eyed take-me-to-bed expression that’s going to get me into trouble. So far, my brother isn’t nibbling the bait, but I don’t have much luck left. Axle hooking up with someone involved in my future won’t do me any favors.
“You’ve taken on custody of not only Hendrix, but your younger sister, as well?”
Axle is in the folding chair next to me, and he draws his long legs in as she edges farther in his direction. Cynthia introduced herself as my “handler” when we arrived ten minutes ago for the press conference. She’s in a pink dress top, black pants and suit coat, and she’s good-looking. Not as beautiful as Elle, though. Not as charismatic either.
My lips slightly edge up at remembering the fire in her eyes when she described her idea of taking out those guys with a baseball. I almost stepped back because I wanted to see her do it.
Have to admit, the girl put the fear of God into me. She had the most intimidating blue eyes. Eyes that made my heart pound, eyes that made me feel like she saw past my skin and into every crack, crevice and shadow. Eyes that made me feel alive. Eyes that also made me want to hide.
Girls like that are one in a billion. Shots with girls like that are even rarer. Another tally mark in the column of things I lost.
Cynthia laughs too loudly, and my brother and I share a side-eye-what-the-hell because Axle’s comment about feeling too young to be a dad wasn’t funny.
For the fifth time since I put on the white button-down shirt, black dress pants and tie, I pull at the collar. Between the humidity and the pressure at my neck, I feel like I’m choking. The convention center is air-conditioned, but there’s also a thousand people worth of body heat.
We’re sitting at a table near center stage. When Axle and I first got here, a group of kids were tap-dancing. They’ve left, so have their parents, and now reporters with cameras are preparing for the press conference. Time feels like it’s speeding up while my thoughts are slowing down.
“Yes,” Axle says to bring the conversation back around. “To taking on Holiday and Drix.”
“You’re so giving.” Cynthia twirls her black hair around her finger. She’s about Axle’s age, and I don’t know if it should bother me how inexperienced she acts for her job. Flirting with the older brother of the person you’re in charge of should be at the top of the Don’t Do playbook. “Not many people would give up so much of their life for their family.”
I can’t argue with that, but I’d still like her to leave us alone.
“How does your girlfriend feel about all this?”
Axle’s chair squeaks when he scoots back. “I’m single.”
“I didn’t know. Sorry.” Cynthia appears anything but sorry as she scribbles a few notes. “I know you said your father is out of the picture. How about Hendrix’s mother?”
“They both gave custody to me,” Axle says.
“I’m aware, but are they both out of the picture?”
“Legally,” Axle answers, and I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He and I haven’t talked about my mom or our dad yet. I haven’t heard from Mom since my first month in juvie. Odds are she’s drinking away her problems. That’s where she was before I moved in with her, and where she was while I lived with her. Can’t imagine that’s changed. For Dad—Axle, Holiday and I have never been more than playmates for when he was alone and bored.
“Legally?” Raised eyebrow on her part.
“They won’t be problems.”
Satisfied with the answer, she moves on. “Do you want to run through what you’re going to say again, Hendrix?”
I didn’t want to go through it the first time. “No.”
Cynthia’s cell vibrates. She checks the message then lands her narrowed gaze on me. “You say exactly what’s on that sheet. Feel free to read from it onstage. No one expects