Sophie's Secret Crush - [Whispers 05] Read online

  I sat on the edge of my bed, hugging my stuffed teddy while I waited for Frankie to finish. I didn’t have to wait long. Within a few minutes, he’d answered his “fan mail” and was sitting beside me on the bed.

  Omigod! A boy is sitting on my bed. A HOT boy!

  “That was quick,” I said, trying my best to sound casual, as if my hormones weren’t totally raging. I clenched my palms by my sides, praying I wouldn’t break out into a sweat with my sudden rise in temperature.

  He flashed that devilish grin and leaned close. Damn, why did he have to smell so good?

  “So you got a boyfriend?” he asked.

  Why did Ethan Maeson’s smiling blue eyes and messy hair flash through my mind? Yeah, I had a major crush on Ethan. But I was totally crushing on Frankie Salas at the moment, and Frankie was way more accessible than Ethan.

  Way more accessible.

  When our eyes met, I practically melted all over the bed. “No,” I answered as I ran my tongue across my parched lips. “Why do you want to know?”

  His fingertips traced down the side of my arm, sending a chill across my flushed skin. I instantly leaned closer to him, basking in the warmth radiating off his broad frame.

  “Your Facebook status says single, but I wanted to be sure.”

  I arched a brow. “You’ve been checking my status?”

  That’s all I said, because he was so close, we were only a breath away from kissing. And damn Frankie Salas, because I had so much more to say, like, “Why would you check my status and not send me a ‘hello’ every once in a while?”

  “I check your wall just about every day. I love looking at your pictures. You’re so pretty.” He traced a finger down the side of my face.

  I was done for. Crud. So much for willpower. So much for anger. As his lips lightly brushed across mine, somehow I’d forgotten why I’d been angry in the first place.

  My lips parted, and then his tongue was inside my mouth. I moaned. He groaned. We fell over in a tangled heap of arms and legs.

  His hands were everywhere—in my hair, stroking my arms, and then… WHOA!

  I’m not going to deny his touch beneath my shirt felt good, but this was way too soon. I reached for his hand that was splayed across my ribcage, just below my left breast, and entwined my fingers through his, pushing him back down just as he was trying to inch farther up.

  He deepened the kiss, his tongue swirling against mine with a fevered tempo. The boy played dirty, but I wasn’t about to let him have all the control.

  Keeping my lips locked on his, pressed my hands against his shoulders. Surprisingly, Frankie let me take the lead, and before I knew it, I was straddling his waist.

  As my hunger for him grew, I thought maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for me to take the lead. The more control he gave up, the more I wanted. What was happening to me? I wasn’t a slut. I was still a virgin, but I knew I wouldn’t be one for long if I couldn’t control myself.

  Frankie went limp beneath me, which I thought was maybe his way of saying we needed to cool down. Damn his soft lips and hard body!

  Pulling away from him was sheer agony, but the look of serene satisfaction on his face was worth it. Frankie’s mouth was open, his eyes closed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’d fallen asleep.

  And then he snorted really loud and let out a heavy breath, his lips flapping together with the movement.

  Holy crap! He had fallen asleep!

  I looked down at his prone body and groaned. That’s it! I had to be the world’s most boring kisser.

  Just then I heard the familiar rumble of my dad’s truck.

  Oh, crap, my parents are home!

  How was I going to explain a sleeping boy on my bed?

  Even though she was still outside my bedroom door, Alessia’s evil feline laugh resonated in my head. You’re in trouble, little witch.

  *****

  I stumbled down the stairs, just as my dad was storming through the front door. His face was contorted into one massive, pissed off frown—a side of my dad I’m not used to seeing unless I do something majorly bad.

  I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know he’d seen Frankie’s car in the driveway.

  “Hey, parents!” I waved at them with one crazy, flapping arm, like they were coming off an airplane and I hadn’t seen them in five years. “How’s it going?” I said with maybe too much enthusiasm.

  Dad fixed me with his no bullshit stare while clenching his hands by his sides. I’d always thought my dad was a tall guy, but now he looked part giant as he bridged the distance between us and hovered over me. “Whose car is that in our driveway?”

  Mom came up beside him, casting me her signature guilt-trip sad eyes before murmuring for him to calm down and something about his blood pressure.

  “Okay, first off,” I squeaked, unable to control the pitch of my voice. Great. Now I sounded as if I’d overdosed on helium balloons. “I should just come out and tell you there’s a boy sleeping in my bed.” I said that last line really fast and then tensed while I waited for lava to spew out of the top of my dad’s head.

  He clenched his fists tighter. Then he turned red. Really red. As laser beams practically shot out of his eye sockets, one singular word projected into my brain: dead.

  This was so not good. I had to diffuse the dad bomb. Fast.

  “Frankie, my freshman boyfriend, stopped by. We drank tea. He used my computer. Then he passed out on my bed. He was upset. His parents are divorcing. I don’t think he’s been sleeping much. Our clothes stayed on the whole time.” I sucked in a huge breath of air, as I’d spewed out all those lines without so much as a single breath.

  Then I cringed again, hoping my parents would buy my almost total truth. Almost, because I’d strategically omitted the part about the kissing. Besides, the kissing didn’t count since I must have totally sucked at it.

  About this time, I noticed that both of my parents’ jaws had dropped, which was kind of cool, because usually I only shock one or the other, but not both at the same time. I remembered my phone in my pocket and thought taking their picture, but that might have pissed them off, and I really didn’t need the extra days of house arrest.

  Surprisingly, Mom was the first one to speak. “First thing you need to realize about boys, Sophie. They’ll say anything if they think they can get what they want.” She wagged her finger like I was three and I’d been caught pooping in the bathtub. Okay, so maybe I didn’t need to dredge up that embarrassing toddler flashback. But in my defense, I was late to potty train and maybe just a little confused.

  “What do you mean?” I asked feigning stupidity, although I already suspected the answer.

  Mom flushed ten shades of red. “Come now, Sophie, you know what I mean.”

  Something about my mom, she’s not good talking about sex. I can still remember our birds and the bees talk vividly, after all. It was just last month. Mom had done a lot of throat clearing and hushed whispers while she’d pointed to a picture book I was pretty sure had been meant for first graders.

  As a long, awkward silence stretched between us, I noticed my mom’s cheeks were practically glowing. At this point, I could have popped into her mind for a good laugh, but eeewww.

  “Frankie’s not like that,” I answered plainly, hoping they could read the sincerity in my eyes. After all, I’m fairly certain if he’d wanted sex, he wouldn’t have passed out while we were making out.

  “How do you know?” Dad asked with a pointed stare.

  It was my turn to flush. Though I’d been too terrified to confess my powers to my mom, my dad had figured out I was a witch. He knew I could read minds, and he probably thought I’d already been poking around in Frankie’s head.

  I looked down at my feet, too embarrassed to tell him the horrific truth. No, I hadn’t been poking around in Frankie’s head, and at this point, I really didn’t want to know what was going on in there. I stifled a gasp as a thought crossed my mind. My hand flew to my chin, to the rem
nants of a monster pimple I had named Big Bertha. Last week Bertha had practically needed her own time zone. Though she was a lot smaller now, could Bertha have turned Frankie off? Is that why he’d fallen asleep?

  When I looked back at my dad, I felt moisture prick the backs of my eyes. “Trust me, Dad. Frankie doesn’t want anything from me.”

  The dam of tears broke free. Crap. I hadn’t meant to cry. What was wrong with me? Why was I getting so emotional over a guy?

  When my dad leaned down and wrapped me in a fierce hug, I realized that maybe my crying worked. Dad was no longer angry with me. Maybe he even believed my story.

  I decided to let my emotions overwhelm me as I sobbed into his chest. That’s why I was a blathering, sobbing mess—to keep out of trouble. In fact, I had almost convinced myself my tears had nothing to do with the fact that my very first heartbreak had stormed into my life and broken my heart again.

  *****

  “Frankie, wake up.”

  He was snoring on his side so soundly, and loudly, I almost felt bad waking him.

  Almost.

  My dad was practically breathing fire on both of us as he hovered behind me. He swore when I climbed onto the bed to wake Frankie. He swore some more when I rolled Frankie onto his back, revealing his shirt which was pulled up his midriff, and his belt buckle, which had come undone. Had that happened when we were kissing? No, I would have remembered if it had gone that far.

  Frankie snorted and then mumbled something before turning back on his side. Just as I was getting ready to shake him, Alessia pounced on top of his chest and howled.

  I screamed and jumped back.

  Frankie practically flew off the bed. He landed on my carpet with a thud before scrambling to his knees.

  I swear I thought I saw my devious little cat smirking from beneath her white fluffy cloak of fur.

  I did that as a favor to your father, she purred before bounding off the bed.

  Frankie groaned as he rubbed his eyes. “What happened?”

  “You fell asleep,” I answered, motioning to my mom and dad, who were glaring at him from the opposite side of the bed. “My parents are home.”

  Frankie’s eyes widened before he peered over the bed. “Parents?” He slowly stood and brushed cat dander off his jeans. “Oh, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Sinora.” He waved to my mom and dad but made no effort to walk around the bed and shake their hands.

  I guess the maniacal glare my dad was giving him, or the fact that steam was practically shooting out of his ears, had something to do with Frankie’s hesitation.

  Frankie looked at me with a pleading expression.

  Even though I felt a tiny bit guilty for throwing Frankie to the wolves, I had nothing to offer him. The boy had fallen asleep on me. Fallen asleep! The more I thought about it, the more my irritation started chipping away at my pride.

  My parents still hadn’t said a word to Frankie. They were looking at him, brows raised, as if waiting for him to offer an explanation.

  “Nothing happened, I swear.” Frankie held out both hands in a defensive gesture as his gaze darted between my parents. “It was a long bus ride down here.”

  “Maybe you should get home and get some sleep.” Dad folded beefy arms across his chest, the low baritone of his deep voice resonating off the walls, making my spacious bedroom feel like a cramped cell. He glared at Frankie from beneath heavy lids. “In your own bed.”

  “Come on,” I said, grabbing Frankie by the wrist. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  I dragged him quickly past my angry parents, down the stairs and out the front door. As soon as Frankie shut the door behind him, he pulled me to a stop, yanking on my hand so hard, I spun around and barreled into his chest.

  Damn that boy! I did not want to be this close to him right now, especially as I knew my nosy parents would be looking out the living room window, or worse, storming through the front door at any moment.

  “What happened?” Frankie asked, confused. “One minute we were, and the next minute I was…”

  “Don’t worry about it—.” I cut him off with a tone that was maybe harsher than I’d intended.

  “Sophie.” Frankie heaved a sigh before dropping his hands to his sides. “I haven’t slept in like four days.”

  When I looked up into his eyes, my heart did a little flip in my chest.

  Not again, Sophie!

  But he looked so dang cute, his bed hair sticking up on one side. I had no idea why but an image of Ethan Maeson and his windswept hair popped into my brain. Why did looking at Frankie make me think of Ethan?

  I turned from Frankie, not wanting him to see the mixture of emotions I knew were plainly written on my face. My mom had always said I had expressive features, one reason I could never win at poker with friends.

  “Then go get some sleep.” I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath of air, willing myself not to pop into his head. Last time I’d done that with Ethan, I’d gotten mixed messages and regretted it. No, I was better off not knowing what Frankie was thinking.

  Frankie stepped up so closely behind me, I could feel his heated breath on my neck. “I don’t want you to think I don’t like you, because I do.”

  Why were guys always complaining that girls were complicated? Why, when I’ve gotten nothing but mixed signals from the guys I liked?

  I swallowed a lump of regret that had lodged itself in my throat, as too many mixed emotions threatened to bubble to the surface. Last year, I had really liked Frankie. Now, I wasn’t so sure. Actually, I wasn’t sure about guys in general at the moment. Trying to figure them out was too much work, even for a mind reader.

  Gawd, how did ‘normal’ girls do it?

  I forced a smile. “You have to go. I’ve got play rehearsal tonight.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re in a play?”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged. Even though tonight was Sunday, our teacher was making us rehearse seven days a week. Ironically, the play was about the Salem witch trials. Ethan and I played a married couple accused of witchcraft. After working so closely with Ethan, I’d inadvertently discovered he was also a witch. Alessia had said Ethan was most likely an elemental witch, meaning Ethan could control the temperature around him, maybe even the weather. It explained why his hair always looked windswept. It also explained how the temperature around us could change from hot to cold depending on his moods.

  “Do you need a ride to school?” Frankie asked.

  I jerked back, and then shook my head. I’d been so consumed in images of Ethan and his messy hair, I’d forgotten Frankie was standing beside me. “No, I’ve got one. Thanks.”

  And then, as if on cue, Ethan’s red sports car pulled into my driveway.

  “Who the hell is that?” Frankie grumbled as he latched onto my hand.

  When Ethan got out of his car, shooting me and then Frankie cold glares, I swear my heart hit the pavement. Though lately I’d been trying my hardest to stay out of Ethan’s mind, when people were experiencing extreme emotions, sometimes their thoughts popped into my head.

  As Ethan slammed his car door and bridged the distance between us, my vision tunneled on those bright blue eyes that had somehow turned a thunderous shade of grey. One singular word in Ethan’s deep voice echoed inside my skull.

  Mine.

  My palm began to sweat beneath Frankie’s tightened grip as he pulled me closer.

  Holy crap! Could my life get any more complicated?

  “Ethan!” My voice cracked as I looked up at his scowling face. “You’re early.”

  Was it me, or had the temperature just dropped ten degrees?

  His eyebrows dipped beneath a mop of tousled, dark hair. “We have to stop for Finn first. I sent you three text messages.”

  The weird thing was even though he was speaking to me, he was looking at Frankie. I pulled out of Frankie’s grip while looking from one guy to the other. They were giving each other the death stare. I was afraid punches would be thrown any minute.

  “So
rry, I didn’t get them,” I said, as I absently rubbed the little hard square in the front pocket of my jeans. I vaguely remember hearing a buzzing sound, but I’d been too occupied with Frankie to check my messages.

  “Who are you?” Ethan said to Frankie between clenched teeth.

  I clenched my teeth, too. Not because I was as pissed as Ethan looked, but because I could have sworn the temperature during this mild fall evening had dropped even more. I was fairly certain our planet wasn’t experiencing a monumental climate change, and that Ethan’s witchy powers had something to do with my sudden need for a parka.

  “Frankie, this is Ethan,” I said as an uncontrollable shiver stole up my spine. “Ethan, Frankie.”

  Ethan crossed his arms, continuing to glare at Frankie. I heard the front door slam and Dad’s heavy footsteps resonate behind me.

  I stole a glance over my shoulder, only to quickly look away. Dad looked like a big hulking bear hovering behind us. Great. Now Frankie was stuck in a glare sandwich.

  My chest tightened, and it felt like I was breathing through a straw. I turned to Frankie. “I guess I need to get going.”

  “So you need a ride to school tomorrow?” Frankie crossed his arms and actually had the nerve to wink.

  I could not believe it! Here I was feeling like the sky was closing in all around us, and he was acting casual!

  The temperature must have dropped another ten degrees in the span of a heartbeat. As I rubbed the gooseflesh on my arms, I thought I heard my dad growling behind me.

  “No, thanks.” I offered Frankie a half-hearted smile, even though I felt anything but happy. “My dad has been taking me to school.”

  The goodbyes were awkward. I knew Frankie wanted a hug, but there was no way he was getting one with Papa Bear and Ice Man looming over us. Besides, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to give him one.

  After I got in the car, I hugged myself tight. Thoughts raced through my mind, and I couldn’t decide if I was more angry with Frankie for sending me all kinds of mixed messages, or at Ethan for playing the role of the jealous boyfriend when just last week, he’d completely blown me off.