The Right Kind of Wrong Read online

  Ringing. Alarms. My eyes fly open and I'm surrounded by darkness. And snoring. The high-pitched ringing echoes and in my groggy state I realize it's my cell phone on the dresser. It stops suddenly and a sliver of light peeks through the blinds.

  Vince's body takes up half the bed. His arms are fanned out beneath his pillow and his almost-white skin is exposed.

  Suddenly, I'm glad for two things. That he is very much asleep and the lights are off. I'm acutely aware that the only thing separating us is a thin wall of covers, which I seem to have stolen from him.

  I tip-toe to the dresser and swipe the cell phone from the counter and escape to the bathroom before Vince wakes and sees me creeping around the room. The LED at the top of the phone blinks: missed call. When the screen lights up, my heart stops in my chest. Roderick. I try to swallow but my throat is dry and it hurts like a hundred cotton balls are stuck there. I fill the cheap, plastic glass on the counter with water and sit on the toilet. I turn the phone on and then off. On. Off. On. On. On. Just do it, Kara.

  I push the send button and Roderick's number appears on the screen. It seems like forever before he picks up. His voice is equal parts pissed off and concerned.

  "Where the hell are you, Pierce?"

  I gulp. "In Salt Lake City."

  "What? Why?"

  "Didn't Kyle tell you?"

  "Tell me what?"

  "I... well... see it's just that..."

  "Spit it out Pierce."

  "I quit," I whisper.

  "I didn't hear what you said."

  "I said, I—"

  The bathroom door jerks open and Vince stands in the doorway, his hand on his hips, his hair standing straight up. I cover the mouthpiece of the phone even though Roderick is yelling.

  "Get out!" I hiss to Vince.

  "Why are you talking on the phone while going to the bathroom?"

  I push him so hard he stumbles out of the bathroom, his face flushing in pain when I hear the sick, cracking noise his back makes when it hits the wall. I hesitate half a second before slamming the door shut and locking it.

  "Roderick?" I expect a dial tone.

  "What in the hell is going on with you?"

  "I was trying to tell you that I quit."

  Silence.

  "I told Kyle I quit the internship and I thought..." I stare at the fake marbled floor. "I thought he told you."

  Roderick exhales. "No, he didn't tell me. What happened?"

  Yeah, like I'm going to tell the truth. "I…" Lie. Tell him you had a family issue. Say something. Anything. "Things just weren't working out."

  "They seemed to be working just fine. You just need a day off right? You can take a couple days to recoup. I need you back here by the end of the week. You've got the Malloy trial to cover."

  I cover my mouth. I spent the last month convincing Roderick I was ready to cover the trial even though I was a lowly intern. A stupid fact checker. And he was giving it to me on a silver platter.

  I think of having to call my grandmother to tell her I can’t make it. I think of the $20,000 calling my name. I even think of Vince in the other room. Vince, who I still don't trust. Vince, who almost ruined my life. And yet—I can't do to him what he did to me. I won't do it.

  "I'm sorry, Roderick. I can't. This project is important."

  "That's it then? You're giving up everything you worked for the past three years for a college project?"

  I tense at the accusation. "I don't have a choice. If I don't finish this project, I don't graduate."

  "You don't come back, you lose any standing you have here."

  The wad of cotton is back in my mouth and this time it threatens to choke me completely. "Roderick, please, let me finish this project and I promise I'll be back and I’ll do anything you need."

  Roderick sighs. "I'm sorry. Do you know how many students would kill to be in your position? Plenty. Good luck with your project, Kara."

  "But..." It's too late. He's gone. The silence mocks me. I almost throw my phone against the wall. Instead, I turn on the shower. I sit on the edge of the tub, letting rogue water drops hit my arms and legs. I stare at the stream of water until the need to cry subsides and steam creates thick, humid clouds. I let the stickiness cling to me until Vince pounds on the door. I try to ignore it, block it out, but he's really going at it.

  "What?" I open the door.

  "I need to piss. What are you doing in here? Did you take a shower?"

  I can't help but snarl. "Does it look like I took a shower?"

  "No, it looks like you just rolled out of bed."

  I try to shut the door but he stops it and pushes back. He's stronger then he looks. "Seriously, what's your problem?"

  I narrow my eyes. "You are my problem! You ruined my life once and now you're doing it again."

  His eyebrows arch in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

  "This stupid project and going back to Iowa. Well, thanks to you, now I'll never have a chance to make it at The Bee. Just get out of my way."

  He looks stunned but quickly regains his composure. "You really should think about drinking coffee in the morning before you talk to people. Bitchy is not a good look for you." He pushes the door open wide and walks in, leaving me amazed.

  "You gonna leave me in peace or do you want to watch me pee?" I roll my eyes and slam the door. Earning that $20,000 is going to be a bitch.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After checking out of the hotel and traveling halfway across Wyoming, Vince's lack of conversation is driving me insane. I know he's pissed at me, but when you're locked in a car together, the silence sounds so much louder. I'm so bored I try to engage Vince in any kind of talk I can.

  "Have you been to Yellowstone?" I ask.

  "No."

  "I've never been, either."

  He nods but doesn't say anything.

  I keep talking. "We never really went on vacation. My grandparents were too old and sick to travel."

  "So, you lived with your grandparents or something?" he asks.

  "Yeah, I moved in with them when I was eight."

  Vince fiddles with his camera, but loses interest and sets it in the center console between us. "Why'd you move in with them?"

  The question throws me. "That's not really any of your business." Vince shrugs like he doesn't care one way or the other. "Whatever. Just trying to get an understanding of things before I walk into your former life."

  I bristle at the idea of anyone waltzing into my 'former' life. "It's not all that interesting."

  I look at him just in time to see the corners of his mouth lift in a smile. "Try me."

  Once we get to Everson, there's not much he won't find out on his own. I sigh. He might as well hear it from me. "My mom died when I was six. My dad went off the deep end and I moved in with my grandparents. The end."

  "I'm sorry."

  I'm determined to keep him talking. "Your turn."

  "Huh?"

  "An eye for an eye. Or in this case, an anecdote for another anecdote. I gave you mine, now you owe me one."

  He laughs, but it doesn't sound very Vince-like. "Um, yeah. I never agreed to that. Besides, I don't have anything to share. Boring life equals boring stories. Sorry."

  I glare at him for a half-second. "Somehow, I really doubt that."

  Vince doesn't deny it but stares out the window, avoiding my eyes. After a minute he asks, "Want to play a game?"

  "Game? What do you have in mind?"

  He sits a little higher in his seat. "A twenty questions kind of game. You can ask anything, and the other person has to answer. No matter whether they want to or not."

  It sounds ridiculous. "Yeah. No."

  "C'mon, Kara. Be a little daring for once. I'm game if you are."

  "This coming from the person who just refused to share the tiniest bit of personal information about himself."

  "If you really want to know, you can ask me again and I'll have to answer."

  I roll my eyes. "Honestl
y, I really don't care. I was just bored and wanted to keep you talking."

  "Mmhmm."

  What's the worst that can happen? Most of me really doesn't want to play this dumb game but there's a sliver of me that wonders what I could learn if I played. "Fine. But I'm not promising I'll answer all of your questions."

  "Didn't figure you would. You wouldn’t play if you didn't have some sort of control."

  "You want to play or not?"

  He turns down the radio. "Okay, you want to go first?"

  I look at the speedometer and hit the cruise button. We're going an even seventy mph. I know he expects me to ask the most obvious question about Jenkins' class, but I'm saving that one. "Why did you choose Sacramento State?"

  He looks surprised. "Taylor Washington. He's pretty popular in the film world. Brilliant. Won't touch anything that has Hollywood written all over it. He's all indie. My parents owned a pretty upscale camera shop. He was a regular. That's where he told me to go. So that's where I went."

  "Just like that?"

  He nods. "Just like that."

  It must have been easy choice. My memory threatens me with another college conversation with my grandparents but I refuse to let it surface. "Your turn."

  Vince doesn't hesitate. "Why didn't you want to come back to Iowa?"

  I take a swig of my warm coke. It offers no comfort. My head says lie but my heart says tell the truth. I don't know which I should follow. I swallow. "Three days before the start of my freshman year, I was going to withdraw. Neither of my grandparents were particularly healthy and I was worried about them. Especially my grandfather. We'd just found out his cancer had spread to his lymph nodes."

  My throat starts to close as the memories flood back. "Basically, I didn't want to leave them. My father… well, he's another story for a different time. But they needed me. And I left them. I didn't have a chance to come back before..."

  Vince rests his hand over mine on top of the shifter. The heat of his hand feels good. So damn good. But I hate looking vulnerable. I pull away.

  I wipe a few rogue tears from my cheeks. "This is why I didn't want to come back. But I'm fine. Seriously."

  "Okay," Vince says. "Your turn."

  He couldn't have known his question drowns me in my own guilt.

  So part of me doesn't feel bad for asking him the question that's plagued me since Jenkins' class.

  "Why'd you do it Vince? What was so hard about the project that you had to cheat?"

  His jaw sets and he clears his throat. "I knew that was going to be one of your questions."

  "So spill it."

  "Fuck, Kara. It's not that simple. It's not like I woke up and said I want to ruin an entire semester for both of us and decided to cheat."

  "Then how was it?" The moment I ask I want to take it back. I'm not sure I want to know. I've been completely content hating Vince. He's arrogant, flaky and he almost ruined my college career. But what if his story doesn't match up with the Vince I'm starting to tolerate. The Vince I'm actually starting to like.

  He shakes his head, opens his mouth, then closes it again.

  "I... I don't have an answer. I don't know why I did it. I just did. I was an asshole. It was a dick move, and I didn't care about you or the grade or anything else until afterwards. Then it was too late. That's it."

  An honest answer. Finally. At least he admits how selfish he was. "I see."

  "You probably hate me just as much as you did, right?"

  "Your turn," I say avoiding the question.

  "Do you love him?"

  I nearly throw the car in park right in the middle of the highway. "What? Who?"

  Vince snorts. "You know who. Kyle."

  "That's none..." Then I remember the rules. And what do I care? "No. I don't love him. I mean, there were some... no I don't love him."

  "Then why did you do it?"

  "Sleep with him?"

  "Yeah."

  I look at the long stretch of road ahead of me and try to come up with an answer. "I don't know."

  But I do know. I just don't want to admit it aloud. I'd actually have to say I slept with someone for the validation. To feel wanted.

  Vince is quiet for a minute. "I guess we're more alike than we think."

  I think about that for a long time. He's right.

  I sigh. "Maybe we are."

  CHAPTER TEN

  The only thing more boring than driving through Wyoming is driving through Nebraska. I lean my head against the car door, the cool glass a contrast to the warmth in my cheeks. It feels good. We've been driving almost two days straight and I'm ready to get out of this damn car.

  "We're still stopping at that museum, aren't we?" I’m anxious to be anywhere but where I am.

  "Yeah."

  "Good. I need to stretch, walk, eat. Do something other than sit in this car."

  "Your GPS says we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

  Fifteen minutes feels like an hour. Since our twenty questions game, the conversation is stilted and forced. Pleasantries, which is odd since we've spent so much time crammed inside a car together. We pull into the parking lot of a building that looks like a huge shed.

  "Are you sure this is the right place? This looks like tractor storage or something. Not a museum. Plus, no one is around. It's creepy."

  "I'm pretty sure this is it. C'mon, let's go in." He swipes his camera from the middle console and we walk toward the front door. A small window displays a closed sign and behind it is pure blackness.

  "I don't think…" I don't have time to finish because Vince reaches for the brass doorknob and my pulse quickens. This feels bad for some reason. Really bad.

  The door opens right up.

  "Shit, yeah! Someone forgot to lock up. Look, I found our way in," he says proud of himself.

  I shake my head. "Oh, no. We're not going in there."

  He gestures to the emptiness. "Are you blind? There's no one here."

  "That doesn't mean someone—like a cop—won't show up any minute now."

  He laughs. "You're too paranoid. C'mon, we'll be quick."

  I bite my lip. I really don't like this, but I admit Vince's enthusiasm is rubbing off on me. "Okay. For two minutes and then we're leaving. Got it?"

  Vince grabs my hand and pulls me inside. When the door shuts, we're in the dark. A few seconds later, Vince's phone puts out a small glow. He flashes it towards the wall and it feels like fate wanted us to sneak in. The light switch shines like a magnet. Vince flips the switches and the building comes alive.

  I step from behind him in awe. The building is, in fact, a holding shed. But instead of tractors, the entire building is filled with massive, hulking tanks and camo-painted trucks with bullet holes penetrating the sides. The air goes out of my lungs. I'm abysmally small next to these massive machines.

  "This is incredible." Vince lifts his camera and scans the building. "I told you it would be worth it."

  I walk up to a gigantic hunk of metal and close my eyes. I picture my grandfather in the front seat, driving through bullets raining down all around him. Was he scared? Every day when he got in that tank, did he think he'd make it home to Grandma? I touch the machine and the cold metal sends a shiver down my spine.

  So this is how it feels to touch a piece of history; something you have a stake in.

  "Are you getting these tanks on camera? They're enormous. I've never seen one up close."

  Vince walks around, catching every angle, every visible inch in his camera lens. Intensity oozes from him when he's behind his camera. He’s a completely different Vince than the guy without it.

  He completes his tour around a tank and ends up next to me. His arm brushes against mine. The slight tingle of skin on skin makes me shiver.

  He pulls me down a row of helicopters. They are as impressive as the tanks, but they don't hold the same history for me.

  "Stop where you are."

  The voice stops me cold. I turn around and am surprised to see a guy about my
age staring at me.

  "What the hell are you doing in here?" he asks.

  Vince steps forward and laughs. "That's a funny story actually."

  The guy's eyes flash with anger. "Oh, breaking and entering is funny? I'm sure the police won't think it is."

  I step forward. "Sir, we're sorry, but we drove from California to see this place."

  He eyes me dubiously. "Seriously? You drove all that way, just to break into this old dump? Why?"

  I point to one of the tanks decorated in bullet holes. "My grandfather drove one in WWII. And we're doing a project on it."

  "Besides, we didn't break in." Vince adds.

  I tug on his arm and whisper, "Shut up."

  "How did you get in then?"

  Vince points to the door. "We walked in."

  The man guffaws, the sound reverberates around the building. "And I'm supposed to believe that?"

  "Check the front door."

  I'm not sure Vince's slick and confident comments are convincing.

  "Stay here," the man commands.

  I'm too nervous to do anything but melt into Vince's side. When I realize I'm practically on top of him, I put some distance between us. "Do you think he's calling the cops?"

  Vince shakes his head. "He'd have to admit that he left the door unlocked and I'm pretty sure he'd be in trouble. Trust me, we're fine."

  As if on cue, the man stomps back to us. "Goddammit. Forgot to lock it up last night. And of course, the one night I do, you two fools come waltzing in here."

  "Told you," Vince says, shrugging. "Listen, we'll be on our way and no one has to know you forgot to lock the door."

  "Or that you trespassed."

  Vince gives the man a thumbs up. "Exactly!"

  I'm not sure the man is going to let us go, but he throws his hands up in defeat. "Go, before I change my mind."

  "Got it." Vince grabs my hand again and pulls me through the tank collection. We practically run to the car and I toss Vince the keys before sliding into the passenger seat.

  My pulse races so fast I can hear it in my eardrums. It courses through my body, thumping out an unfamiliar rhythm. Even my skin tingles. Something bubbles inside me and by the time Vince pulls on the highway I'm full out laughing.