Trust Again: Dawn and Spencer's Story (The Again Series Book 2) Page 4

  He just laughed. “Over my dead body, Chelsea. You can go when the party’s over and you don’t find anything to snort.” His footsteps grew distant; I heard him descend the stairs.

  Grabbing the doorknob again, I shook it vigorously and slammed myself against the door. It wouldn’t budge. The bastard had actually imprisoned me in his bathroom.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  A hysterical giggle escaped my throat. I tried not to panic.

  Looking around the room, I realized my only escape would be through the window, which was between the bathtub and the toilet. Opening it, I poked my head out and looked down to see a bunch of trash bins way, way below. In front of them was a narrow, paved path, and then the lawn. I’d never survive a jump from here.

  With a frustrated sigh, I sat on the toilet seat cover and looked at my phone. There was a new text message. From Sawyer.

  Sorry, third door on the right. Not left.

  I wanted to bang my head against the bathroom wall and write back that it was too late now, thank you very much. Instead, I stared at my phone, turned it around in my hand, decided to swallow my pride and call Allie. What choice did I have, if I didn’t want to be trapped here all night? Slowly, I lifted the phone to my ear.

  “Hello?” There were voices and the sound of clattering dishes in the background.

  I cleared my throat. “Hey, Allie. I need your help.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I… I’m in trouble.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Don’t worry, Dawn.”

  “It’s not that bad, I promise. Someone just locked me up and…”

  “What!” she screeched. “Someone locked you up?”

  “Is that Dawn?” Spencer’s voice emerged from the din.

  “She’s in trouble, Spence. I think she…” Allie trailed off.

  “Where the hell are you?” Spencer barked into the phone.

  I pressed my forefinger and thumb on the bridge of my nose and collected myself.

  “I’m fine. I’m at that stupid frat house where Allie and I partied last semester and—”

  He cursed. “I’ll be right there.”

  There was noise on the line; then I heard Spencer and Kaden talking in the background.

  “Dawn, you still there?” Allie had picked up again.

  “Yes. Can one of you come get me?” I asked sheepishly.

  “Spencer is already putting on his jacket. I just have to find my bag and—”

  “No! You don’t have to drop everything for my sake. It’s perfectly okay if only one of you gets me. Please don’t make a big thing about it.”

  “But I feel weird about you being in that house with all those creepy guys,” Allie insisted.

  “Allie, come on. I’m a hundred times safer sitting here on this toilet seat than you were last time you were here. Please don’t interrupt dinner for my sake,” I begged. It was bad enough to embarrass myself in front of Spencer. Allie’s evening shouldn’t be ruined just because I was a lousy undercover agent.

  There was a brief silence. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Of course! Tell Spencer I’ll text him about what room I’m in.”

  It took another ten minutes for me to convince her that I was not in mortal danger.

  After we hung up, I felt both relieved and nervous to know that Spencer was on his way.

  To calm myself, I took a book from my bag and flipped to the last chapter. But I couldn’t concentrate.

  It felt like it took forever, but eventually I heard heavy steps heading in my direction. Please let it be Spencer, not Brix, I thought.

  “Dawn?”

  “Spence?”

  “I’m going to kill that bastard,” he said. Suddenly, I heard the chair being dragged away and the door flew open.

  Spencer was standing there; a wave of relief washed over me.

  “You’re the best,” the words flew from me. “Thank you so much.” It was all I could do not to throw my arms around his neck.

  “You’re going to have to tell me the story behind this,” was his response. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes angry.

  My eyes traveled across his shoulders, down his arms to those hands.

  No.

  I slammed the file in my brain shut. Stay strong. After holding out for an entire week, managing to ban such thoughts from my mind, I wasn’t about to cave now, just because he’d rolled up his sleeves, and I couldn’t take my eyes off his arms and hands. I looked away and cleared my throat.

  “Thanks for getting me out,” I cleared my throat. “But I promised Sawyer I’d get something she left here, so I can’t go home yet.”

  “You think I’m going to leave you here alone? You’ve got to be kidding, Dawn.”

  Looking down at my feet, I avoided his gaze. But I couldn’t help noticing that he’d stepped toward me.

  “Sawyer lost her necklace. I’m not entirely sure which room it’s in,” I said, glancing behind him to the hall. “But it’s got to be here somewhere.”

  “Good, I’ll help you,” he said.

  “Okay. Thanks.” Could this get any more embarrassing?

  I walked past him and opened the door across from the bathroom. It was the room where Brix had caught me. I pushed the door open and flipped on the light switch. Spencer followed me and closed the door silently behind him.

  “What kind of asshole steals girls’ jewelry?” I asked, surveying the messy room.

  “Someone who wants to earn a little something on the side?” Spencer answered, close behind me.

  So close, that his breath tickled my neck. Telltale goose bumps crept over my arms. I tried to move forward, but he grasped my hand and spun me in a circle to face him.

  “Why are you avoiding me?” he whispered.

  My eyes closed. His hand was sure and solid on mine; his body was radiating such warmth that my knees grew weak.

  “What’s wrong with you, huh?” His voice was a bit gruff and hearing it made my stomach do strange things.

  Slowly, very slowly, his hand traveled up to my forearm. My skin started to tingle.

  Stay strong. Stay strong.

  How could a mere touch from him shake me this way? Was it because I’d been attracted to him for months already and refused to admit it? Because he was so stubborn about pursuing me? Because I secretly longed for physical contact? Or was it the alcohol that made me feel so weak around Spencer?

  “Look at me, Dawn.”

  My inner walls were quaking, and I could swear a few cracks were forming. I opened my eyes.

  Crazy. This entire situation, this moment. It was totally nuts and totally surreal.

  My throat was dry. Spencer was so close to me, I could have counted his thick, black eyelashes. Or the sprinkling of freckles on his nose. Strangely enough, now that I knew that it had once been broken, I could actually see that.

  “Your nose is crooked,” I whispered.

  One corner of his mouth twitched. He wrapped a strand of my hair around his finger. “Your hair is chestnut red.”

  “I thought you liked it,” I mumbled as if to myself.

  “That’s not all I like.”

  I grabbed the hem of his shirt to keep from swooning. Spencer sighed. He came even closer, until our faces were only a hair’s breadth apart.

  “Dawn…” He whispered my name as if he were suffering from torments that only I could heal. “I find it very hard not to kiss you when you look at me that way.”

  It was the same for me. The air between us seemed so thin, I could barely breathe. If our lips didn’t meet now, it would be the end of the world. The planet would simply disappear, taking me with it. That wasn’t what I wanted, and apparently Spencer didn’t either. He lowered his head toward me the same moment that I rose on my tiptoes to him.


  He pressed his mouth against mine, and I melted on the spot. His lips were firm and warm, soft and gentle. I clenched his shirt tighter in my hands and pulled him to me. The heat in my chest spread in all directions.

  Spencer moaned softly and wrapped his arms around me. He lifted his mouth briefly from mine and gasped. Then he kissed me again.

  I could have died, it felt so good. I opened my lips for him, and his tongue met mine. I sighed and then he pushed me away.

  He stared at me in disbelief, holding me at arm’s length. “You’ve got to be kidding, Dawn.”

  “What?” I asked, confused by his sudden hesitance.

  Spencer released my shoulders abruptly and backed away from me. Then he let out a shaky laugh. “You’re drunk.”

  “No I’m not,” I said sheepishly. “I mean, I just drank a little punch.”

  Apparently I’d said the wrong thing; Spencer turned and walked a few steps farther into the room, running his hands through his hair. He dropped his arms and clenched his hands into fists.

  “Spence…”

  “Fuck!” With full force he kicked Brix’s laundry basket, knocking it over and spilling its contents everywhere.

  I held my breath and wrapped my arms around my body to keep it from shaking. I’d never seen Spencer angry before.

  He whirled around and just stared for a few seconds. Obviously he was thinking hard about something. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought the better of it. Instead, he swallowed and looked at the ground.

  “Not like this,” he shook his head.

  My ears were buzzing. Everything was upside down; I felt strangely hot, and my head was starting to throb. I touched my fingers to my lips. They were tingling like crazy. Then my hands turned to fists. How could I have let this happen?

  “I’m sorry. I’m just a damn lapsus,” I groaned.

  Spencer stared at me, confused. “Lapsus?”

  “Latin for mistake. My dad always says it, but with him it’s more like a curse.”

  His eyes softened. “I think it sounds like a little animal. With long floppy ears.”

  I smiled weakly, though I wanted to cry. Spencer returned my gaze for what felt like a small eternity. We looked at each other until I couldn’t bear the silence and dared to take a step in his direction.

  “I’m sorry,” I offered. I didn’t know what to say that would make him look at me like he had before.

  He nodded slowly, took another deep breath, and then something in his face changed. I knew what he was doing. He was hiding his feelings, locking them behind his carefree exterior. The amused sparkle returned to his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, too, little lapsus.” He rubbed the back of his head. “And sorry I yelled at you. I’m even more sorry about that than about kicking that disgusting dirty laundry on the floor.”

  “Oh, that’s no big deal,” I mumbled and bent down to pick up Brix’s clothing, stuffing it back in the basket.

  Spencer squatted across from me and joined in. “Admit it. You liked my little tantrum.”

  I chuckled, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood—even if we were just pretending. “It was very masculine.”

  “So did it boost my sex appeal? Just a little?”

  “Well, I was a little worried that you’d broken your foot.”

  “I have steel feet.”

  “Like your nose?”

  “My nose is the only soft part of my body.”

  I let out a relieved laugh. We were back in the swing of things. Everything would be fine.

  I picked up another of Brix’s shirts and saw a flash of gold under it on the carpet. Carefully, I reached for it.

  “Look at this,” I said, dangling the necklace in front of him. “Unbelievable.”

  The locket gleamed under the overhead light. I’d never seen Sawyer wearing it. Turning it over, I saw two ornate letters engraved on the back.

  E. D.

  D as in Dixon?

  “Is that Sawyer’s?”

  “It must be. She said it was a locket. Mission accomplished.”

  “That was surprisingly easy,” said Spencer. “We’d make great detectives.”

  “Actually, it was your steel foot that did the work.”

  He didn’t smile and his movements seemed rushed as he stuffed the laundry back into the basket. “Let’s get out of here before Brix comes up with some even dumber ideas.”

  He held out his hand. I took it and let him help me up. With a painful twist in my stomach, I realized that the tables had turned: instead of me trying to look away, now it was Spencer.

  Chapter 6

  The saga with Brix and the necklace seemed to weigh on Sawyer, even days after the fiasco. She hardly left the dorm, and sometimes I’d find her sitting at the window just staring into space. She dismissed my attempts to help her snap out of it, and she didn’t want to talk, either. After a few days, I gave up trying and started just leaving chocolates for her, which she didn’t even touch.

  I was ready to call it quits on even that small gesture when she came home from class one afternoon, tossed her backpack in the corner, and faced me, arms folded.

  “I need a model for my photography class. Are you game?”

  And so I found myself sitting on a park bench in the middle of campus, while Sawyer held her huge SLR camera to her face and repeatedly asked me to look angry. Apparently the assignment was to shoot a collection of portraits showing various emotions. So she ordered me around for more than an hour.

  “You look like you have a grasshopper in your mouth.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Yuck.”

  She snapped another picture.

  “Of course: yuck. But you shouldn’t look like you just ate something nasty, but like you’re really upset.”

  She let the camera dangle for a moment and gave the perfect demonstration of an angry frown with narrowed eyes.

  “See what I mean?” It was clearly a look she had mastered.

  I really tried; I wanted to frown, but only managed to make my hairline move up and down.

  Sawyer sighed. “All right, let’s skip that one. Now look erotic and dreamy.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “This is part of my job? To look erotic and dreamy?”

  “Emotions are my project. It was my choice,” Sawyer answered and took a few photos of me staring at her with open mouth. Those would be flattering.

  She knelt and adjusted one of the countless dials on her camera. “Close your mouth a bit more. Now think about—I don’t know—your favorite actor leaping naked through a meadow or something.”

  “Like Harry Styles?” I asked hopefully, trying to picture my favorite boy-band star.

  “Wonderful, Dawn. Perfect,” Sawyer said. She looked at me contentedly and took a few steps back. “Think about that slimeball in tight pants.”

  My cheeks got hot. “Did you just call Harry Styles a slimeball? In my presence?”

  I jumped up and stretched out my hand toward the lens as Sawyer backed away onto a section of grass. She snapped some pictures and didn’t care to look where she was going.

  “Oh, that’s good, Dawn! You look funky and angry at the same time. Wow! And now give me that grasshopper look again.” She grinned at me.

  I surged forward, while Sawyer toppled backward. She tripped on her own feet and landed on her back. Unfortunately, I was moving so fast that I almost landed on top her. Just in time, I was able to angle myself to the side—and landed face first on the soft, wet grass.

  Sawyer lost it—I think it was the first time I’d ever heard her laugh. She grabbed her stomach with both hands.

  “I haven’t laughed like this in ages.”

  “Glad you’re so amused to see me with a mouth full of grass,” I picked out another piece of the green stuff.

  We lay there grinnin
g for a while, staring at the sky. Who would’ve thought Sawyer could be so easy-going. From the corner of my eye, I saw her hand move up to touch the locket resting on her chest. Her fingers closed around it.

  “Thanks, Dawn,” she murmured, still staring straight up at the sky.

  “You’re welcome.”

  My story about Jasper and Chelsea was nearly done. They’d just had an awful fight, and it was time to figure out how they’d make up.

  Normally, I love writing the closing scenes. All the different threads come together and I can let the characters carry on by themselves. Even though happy endings are rare in real life, in fiction, they seem to work.

  Except this time.

  Something wasn’t quite right. I would type and type, only to erase it all and start again. This had never happened before, and it was making me increasingly uneasy. But just giving up wasn’t an option. D. Lily fans were expecting a sequel, and I wanted to deliver.

  I tugged at my hair, rested my chin on my hands, and stared at the blinking cursor.

  “What are you moaning about all the time?” The voice came from across the room, jarring me out of my thoughts.

  I started. “Nothing. I’ve just got writer’s block.”

  “What’re you working on?”

  “An essay. For Professor Lambert’s course.”

  I felt Sawyer’s eyes on me and looked up.

  “That’s a lot of frustration for one little essay.”

  “Mh-hm,” I agreed, looking back at the screen.

  “You write a lot of essays,” Sawyer mused.

  “Mh-hm.”

  “Sometimes you blush while you’re working.”

  I raised my eyes again. “Oh, yeah?”

  Sawyer was sitting by the window. Her eyes sparkled. Then she stood up suddenly.

  I tensed. “Don’t you dare come any closer, Sawyer Dixon,” I threatened.

  Her grin turned sly. Slowly, dangerously, she edged into my half of the room before pouncing toward me and grabbing my laptop.

  I shrieked and leapt up. “Give it back!”

  “’With a sweeping movement he tore the clothes from my body. The buttons scattered across the cold tile floor. We stumbled into the bathroom, and I fumbled with Jasper’s belt,’” she read aloud.