Thick Skin: A Flashback Romance Read online

  “Is this okay?” I pulled Ruby down onto my bed and my mattress squeaked as I rolled on top of her. “Please say it’s okay.”

  She didn’t say anything as she chained me to her with arms I hoped would never let go. Having her warm, soft body so close made me dizzy. I needed air, but air didn’t matter. Not when Ruby was holding me.

  I wanted to know if she was wet. I adjusted the alignment of my body so I could slide a hand between her thick thighs.

  “Wait,” she breathed, and the mood shattered.

  Wait, the blonde said, but she was the one who brushed her lips feather-light across my mouth, before she pushed me off her, and drew in a shaky breath.

  My cock, which was making my pants too tight, wanted me to protest; but I resisted the irritation that sprung up inside, swatting it away with one look at Ruby’s flushed cheeks and faded lipstick. Our proximity alone—and the fact that I could look openly now, without worrying about a biting remark—was more than I had ever hoped for, outside of raw longing. I had no right to ask for anything else.

  Part of me was worried she was a dream, and I was about to wake up alone with sticky sheets—but then gentle fingertips touched my bruised knuckles and a dull throb of pain told me Ruby was no dream.

  “We should ice these,” she said.

  The we brought a smile to my lips.

  I rose from the bed and adjusted my pants before I helped her climb off. Then we went to the kitchen. The lights flickered above us as she hopped up on the counter and drummed her fingers on ceramic tiles.

  “I should probably get you home, huh?” I said, wrapping ice inside a towel.

  Ruby shrugged and reached for the wrapped ice. “No one’s there to miss me.”

  She opened her dangling legs so I could stand between them and my cock twitched.

  Settle the fuck down, I thought, as I accepted the intimate space.

  “Your mother’s not home?”

  “She’s an assistant baker at Bitty’s Bakery. She has the overnight shift, so she makes sure the delivery truck is stocked in the morning.”

  “She leaves you alone all night?”

  Ruby blinked, taken aback by the concern in my voice. “Yes, she leaves me alone, because I’m a big girl, who can take care of herself.” She took my hand in hers and pressed the ice against my knuckles. “Why are we the only ones here tonight? Don’t you have roommates?”

  “Yeah, Teddy and Ash.”

  I had lived with them since my last year of high school. They had moved in after my mother found work at a sewing factory in the nearest city. After my father’s reputation in Treeport was as doomed as his hands.

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “No, but they’re probably in some trouble by now.”

  “Would you be in trouble if you weren't here with me?”

  “I try to stay out of trouble, but sometimes it's hard when I'm with them.” And, apparently, when I’m with you—I didn’t say—because I really couldn’t blame my hurt knuckles on anyone else.

  “Does it bother you when your friends drag you into things?”

  “I can’t complain—since I know what I'm getting into,” I said, shrugging. “Their attitudes can get old, but they always have my back and I have theirs.”

  “You make them sound so loyal.”

  “They are. You and your friends might not have high opinions of them, but they can surprise you.”

  “Is that why you call yourselves the Dark Horse Gang?”

  “Guess so,” I said, unable to stop myself from pulling a face when I heard her say it. I wasn’t a fan of that name, but all the other motorcycle clubs around here had the name of a proud group of underdogs, so we wanted one like that too.

  “Do you let girls in your club?”

  “Girls don’t ride those types of bikes.”

  Ruby bristled. “Maybe they would if you’d let them in.”

  “I never thought of it that way.”

  “Boys never do,” she said, staring out at the darkness beyond the window above the sink. “You know what, it is getting late. Can I use your phone?”

  I could feel Ruby pulling back, suddenly, and I wasn’t sure how to keep her close—or what had pushed her away. “Um, sure. Who are you calling?”

  She handed the ice to me—with more force than was necessary—and hopped down from the counter. “My friend Sam.”

  My shoulders tensed and Ruby rolled her eyes.

  “Her full name is Samantha Peters,” she said, and I relaxed. “She works at Oliver’s. It should be closing soon. I don’t think Sam would mind picking me up, since she passes this street on her way home.”

  “I can take you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Samantha Peters agreed to take Ruby home, and while we waited for her, the blonde grew colder than the ice that had soothed my knuckles.

  I knew I must have fucked up, because her anger had never been so cold like that—not towards me. It had usually been burning red anger—which was hotter than the summer weather that had come early that year—turning her into a fire you couldn’t look away from, but knew damn well you shouldn’t touch.

  “I had a good time,” she claimed as she walked out the door, but she didn’t kiss me goodbye.

  Chapter Five

  Ruby

  I jumped into Sam's red convertible and slammed the door, so frustrated I had trouble controlling my breathing. That night had felt like repeatedly bowling strikes, then throwing your ball into the gutter—just before you were about to win the game. “Why are we invisible to men, when they're not thinking about groping us? Do they really think we're only good for one thing?”

  “Don't be silly,” Sam said, without missing a beat. “They don't think we're only good for sex. They also think we're good for sewing and scrubbing and cooking.”

  “True,” I laughed, buckling up.

  Sam released her long auburn hair from a ponytail, shaking it out as she kept sneaking glances at me, like she was trying to find a hickey or stain. I had freshened up as best as I could, before she got there, and I hoped I hadn't missed something.

  “But you should know better than to expect anything more than being treated like a piece of meat when you step inside that place,” Sam said, nodding toward Beck's shabby little house with its overgrown lawn.

  “Just drive,” I said. I didn't want to explain myself.

  Sam wasn't going to let me off that easy though. “Not until you tell me what's going on.”

  “It's not a big deal. Beck took me to the club you and Lisa were too chicken to go to.”

  “Then how did you end up here?”

  “A guy said something rude to me, and Beck taught him some manners, which messed up his knuckles. So, I offered to help him patch up while we listened to music.” I gave her more details than I wanted to, since convincing lies are always peppered with the truth.

  “Uh-huh,” Sam said, sounding like she didn’t believe a word I'd said anyway.

  But she finally drove out of the dingy neighborhood and took us to the picturesque streets that I considered home, thanks to years of my mother's hard work.

  Mama had come to this town with very little savings, and a newborn, and had given me a comfortable life—and while strong women like her kept the town running, young men like Beck were so clueless they assumed a young woman couldn't handle being left alone at night. That made me see red.

  “Well,” Sam said, as she parked in my driveway, “if you feel like listening to music again, make sure you redecorate your room before you invite Beck over.”

  “What's wrong with my room?”

  “You have a framed picture of Eleanor Roosevelt on your wall.”

  “So?”

  “Eleanor Roosevelt doesn't get anyone in the mood. Neither do all the books you have—or those records you sort by color. Everything is too neat and tidy.”

  “I thought we agreed men want neat and tidy from us?”

  Sam scoffed at my ignorance. “Not when they’re hard! When they’re hard, they want us to be alluring, and your room isn’t. It's like this huge sign that says, ‘I have to channel my sexual frustration into something.’”

  “Good to know,” I said, tone flat. “Anything else?”

  “You might want to soften your voice too. It can be a little aggressive.”

  “I am not changing my voice for any man,” I huffed. “What’s the point of being with a boy if you have to change yourself for him to like you?”

  “They try to change themselves for us too. Most of them fail—at sex—love—all of it—but some of them are trainable.”

  “I’d rather train a dog,” I said, stepping out of the car.

  Sam snickered as I headed inside.

  “Not a bad idea!” she called out. “We’d probably have better luck!”

  I should’ve been thinking about the reputation I had put in serious danger that night, but I was too stuck in anger to think about damage control. I didn’t ask Sam to keep my evening with Beck a secret, so she blabbed about it for a whole day before a seedier version of that night got back to me.

  When I found out, I called and threatened her with a slow and painful death, but by then it was too late. All the preps knew, and it was only a matter of time before the whole town would gossip about it.

  I decided to tell my mother before someone else did.

  “Mama, can we talk?” I asked one night, while she was taking some time for herself, before getting ready for her shift. She was sitting on our plastic-covered sofa, with her head stuck in a ratty old cookbook.

  “What about?” she asked.

  “A boy.”

  She looked up, eyes narrowed. “That nice boy who wanted to take you out: Joseph Henry?”

&nbs
p; I couldn’t hold back a snort. Treeport’s mothers thought Joe Henry was nice because he gave old people rides to church and bagged groceries with a smile. They didn’t see what he was like in the halls at school or in the backseat of his car. I had seen him in action, in the former, which is why I had said no thanks when he asked me to the winter formal.

  “No, Mama. Beck Walker.”

  She set the cookbook on her lap. “I’ve heard that name before.”

  Beck had also given old people rides—to medical appointments, or the bank, or their grandkid’s school play—and would grin while he changed your tire. And, unlike Joe, he had never once tried to have sex, without a rubber, in a car. But Beck was a poor boy who rode a motorcycle, so I knew my mother’s friends hadn’t said one positive thing about him. Whatever she’d heard couldn’t be good.

  “That boy has a temper,” Mama said, her expression tight. “His father had one too.”

  “Beck’s nothing like his father. He’s really sweet, but a little clueless—and not above letting a jerk get under his skin—which doesn’t make him any different than the other guys in this town.”

  “Has he asked you out?”

  “No, but this jerk insulted me, and Beck hit him, and hurt his knuckles. So, I offered to give him first aid. That’s all,” I lied. “But now people are saying something more happened between us.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Mama’s face relaxed. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Ruby. Everyone knows what kind of girl you are.”

  “Yeah, they do,” I said, forcing a smile.

  I was the kind of girl who always did what her mother wanted her to do, and I was sick of it.

  Chapter Six

  Beck

  Days passed while I felt like I had come down from a high I would never reach again.

  Days passed while Ruby pretended I didn’t exist, and—during that agonizing time—word of our night together got back to the greasers.

  “But I thought there was nothing but ice between those legs,” Teddy said.

  “I don’t know what’s between Ruby’s legs,” I said, as I fought the urge to take a swing. “We just talked. She was only interested in that and a ride to the club.”

  “First, you let her have your hard-earned cigarettes, and now she’s got you wasting gas,” Ash said, shaking his head. “You’re a goddamn chump.”

  I flushed, but I was grateful for the ridicule. Grateful that making fun of me was more entertaining for them than badmouthing Ruby.

  I thought I had dodged a bullet, but the next day Ash spotted her in the diner, through a window that had hamburgers painted on it, and my life flashed before my eyes.

  “Don’t,” I said, knowing him too well.

  “Stay out here if you want, lover-boy,” he said, already halfway to the door.

  I had no choice but to follow.

  Ruby was sitting alone, at the counter, staring into a strawberry milkshake while she stirred it. An open book was her sweetheart that afternoon. A sweetheart that couldn’t appreciate how fuckable she looked in her denim shorts, tight white undershirt, and the plaid overshirt she had tied in a knot under her perfect large round breasts.

  One look at her with her open book made me want to throw my heart into an open flame. I didn’t care anymore that this girl was fire. I wanted to burn.

  “Whatcha reading, kid?” Ash asked her as he leaned against the counter.

  “I’m not a kid, and I’m not interested,” Ruby said, not looking at him.

  “Aren’t you a schoolgirl?” Ash asked.

  “I graduate in two months.”

  “So you are a schoolgirl.”

  “Wow. You’re pretty sharp for a dropout.”

  “What did you call me, bitch?”

  “That’s enough,” I snapped, smacking him upside the head.

  “Beck?” Ruby lifted her head and raised an eyebrow at me.

  “So you do remember him,” Ash said, grinning as he rubbed his head. He wasn’t put off by the smack. If anything, it seemed like it had made this more fun for him. “I was wondering if you had amnesia or somethin’, since you never say hello when he passes you on the street—even after he hosted you like a gentleman, while you did nothing but tease the poor sap.”

  “That’s what he told you?” Ruby said, talking to Ash while she kept her gaze trained on me.

  Before I could respond, Lisa Leary took the empty seat beside her.

  “Did I hear someone say the ‘B’ word?” Lisa asked, as she flipped her dark, S-shaped curls over her cardigan-clad shoulder and shot daggers at me.

  “You heard that from the bathroom?” Ash said.

  “It was so loud,” Lisa said, “I’m sure people heard it in the place next door’s bathroom.”

  Ruby nodded toward Ash. “That piece of work said it.”

  “Oh,” Lisa said, her hard gaze shifting from me to him. “Should’ve known. Beck doesn’t talk that way.”

  “How would you know, prep?” Ash said.

  “Because I’ve known him since we did ballet together,” Lisa said, “and he’s never been anything less than a perfect gentleman.”

  “Ballet?” a gruff voice said. “What do you mean, ‘ballet?’”

  All heads turned in Teddy’s direction as the diner door swung shut behind him.

  “Before you moved here,” Ash said, “Beck took classes at a ballet studio.”

  “Ballet studio?” Teddy was even more confused.

  “Yeah, ballet studio.” Ruby pulled her straw out of her milkshake and pointed the dripping, pink end at Teddy. “Are you slow or something?”

  “What’d you say to me?”

  “Come on,” I said, grabbing Ash by the arm. “Let’s go, boys.”

  “But I wanted a sandwich,” Teddy said.

  “Then we’ll get it somewhere else,” I practically growled at him.

  Lisa said something about Vassar College (and how girls were free of all this muck there) while Ruby went back to stirring her milkshake.

  “See ya later,” she muttered.

  It was better than nothing. Better than, “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.” It gave me hope that she would speak to me again—and she did!

  The next morning, she came to the auto shop, and I saw her check her red lipstick in the window before she sauntered inside.

  “Hey.” She leaned on one of the shelves I was stocking. “Thanks for kissing, but not telling.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “You’re really not like the other boys, are you?”

  “What’s wrong with the other boys?”

  “Do you really have to ask, after what your friend said to me?”

  “You called him a dropout.”

  “He is a dropout.”

  I kicked aside an empty box, grabbed a knife off the edge of a shelf, and took a breath to stop myself from shouting that Ash was the reason Teddy and I didn’t drop out. That he had busted his ass at the shop so the two of us could spend more time at school than work, without having to choose between paying bills and eating well.

  But I didn’t say any of that as she waited patiently for my reply.

  “Look, if you want us to be friendly,” I said, while slicing through tape to open another box, “then you need to be nice to my boys.”

  “Tell your boys I’ll be nice to them if they’re nice to me,” she fired back. “Then come over to my place.”

  I held the butt of the knife so tight my bruised knuckles whitened. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

  “Come on, Beck, I won’t beg.” She rose up on the tips of her toes and brought her mouth to my ear. “Come see my room tonight, if you want—just don’t park in my driveway,” she added, then whispered an address I already knew.

  Chapter Seven

  Beck

  For the rest of the day, I thought only about one thing, and felt warmth radiating from my skin when my manager asked why I seemed distracted.

  “What’s on your mind, son?”

  Oh, nothing much, I just might lose my virginity to the most beautiful woman in the world. “A good night’s rest, sir. I’m pretty beat.”