I Knew You Were Trouble - Cassie Mae Page 0,33
middle of paint war, and parking here until the all clear sounds pretty good to me.
Pete pushes into a crouch, peering over the barrels. The scent of boy body wash floats in the air between us, and a buzz zaps through my fingers. “Ugly Sweater Squad seems to be strategizing,” he says, ducking back down. “You want to wait for them to come to us?”
“I want to leave.”
His signature hyena laugh tumbles out of him, and I give him a hard shove so he doesn’t give away our position.
“Shush, you.”
“Don’t make me laugh.” He plops on his butt, stretching his long legs out. I pat his knee, pushing it so he curls into a tight ball like me.
“They’re going to see your massive feet.”
“Good.”
“You want to lose?”
“I want you to get messy.”
I roll my eyes so hard a tiny headache pounds just over my eyebrows. I take a deep, shaky breath, blowing it out in spurts.
Pete bends his knees. “Where did you learn sign language?”
The question jolts my brain, unplugging my thoughts from impending paintball death and plugging in to my family.
“Huh?”
“Been curious all day.” He grins, his smile pushing against the goggles covering half his face. Pete seems to always have a perma-grin, but they’re all sort of different. This one I don’t see often, and it’s for when he’s not teasing me relentlessly.
I lean against the barrels, grateful they are nailed to the floor and don’t move an inch or make a sound.
“My mom’s deaf.” I keep my voice low. Those ladies will creep near us eventually. “I’ve been signing my whole life.”
His brows lift, and something sparkles behind his light brown eyes. Huh… I’ve always been a blue eyes girl. Hence another reason why Zach is super fine. But Pete’s eyes are pretty, too.
“You never mentioned that.”
“We don’t talk all that much about our families, do we?” I say it smug, teasing. Pete and I know the basics of each other, and I like sparring with him. But he had no idea I came from money until a week ago, and that’s kind of a huge part of why I am the way I am.
“Was that hard?” he asks. “I mean, did you have to interpret a lot for her when you were a kid?”
I shake my head, wincing at what I’m about to say. “Uh… we had an interpreter. Like, she was on the staff.”
“Oh, right.” Pink blossoms in his cheeks, and oh my adorableness. My heart flutters at the fact that maybe he thought I had a normal upbringing for a minute. Or if not normal, at least more of a struggle.
Oh to struggle with something besides my own personality. I’d trade all my money to live a life without fear.
Well… I guess I am paying for that.
“She doesn’t need an interpreter anymore.” I nudge him with my elbow. “She got a cochlear implant when I was twelve and three months.”
He smirks. “I give that accuracy a 9.2. You would’ve gotten higher marks if you had it down to the minute.”
I nudge him again. Harder this time.
“So, what’s a cochlear implant do? Does it cure it?”
“Not entirely, I don’t think. She can speak and hear now without leaning on sign language, but we catch ourselves doing it occasionally out of habit.”
He’s quiet for a second, and I wonder if he hears the Sweater Squad coming. I push my lips together and clutch my paintball gun to my chest.
“Damn, Candace.”
“Huh?”
“I can’t seem to make fun of any of that.”
A breathy laugh falls from my lips, and I shake my head at my feet. “You can’t live two seconds without giving me crap?”
“Can you?”
“I can go three.”
His shoulders move in silent laughter, and he checks up over the barrels again.
“Anyone?” I ask.
“Not yet.” He settles back down, his arm pressed against mine. I hope he keeps it there. Being alone is also on my list of fears, and physical contact helps squash that lonely feeling.
“So…” he says, adjusting his gun. “Will I meet her eventually during these lessons?”
“Doubtful.” I pull his leg in after it moves into the danger zone. “My parents are in Texas at the moment.”
“Vacation?”
“No… they live there.”
He jerks back. “Then who lives in that giant farmhouse?”
“No one right now.”
His thoughts push his eyebrows in, his lips getting scrunched. A wrinkle appears above the bridge of his nose. Oh here we go again with another “look.” I’m about to divulge just how much my parents are worth, and he’s going to give me that