“You couldn’t have just kept your mouth shut?” I hiss to Tyler. I keep my voice low in fear of getting ourselves into even more trouble, which is something I really can’t afford to do right now. Pressing a hand to my forehead, I slowly rub my temple.
“Cop was a prick,” Tyler mutters in return. He’s awfully disgruntled as he slumps further down against the wall, his lips forming a firm scowl that I doubt will fade any time soon. He stares out of the holding cell at the busy station, glowering at each officer in contempt. “They all are.”
“We wouldn’t even be here if you’d just walked away.” My forehead is creased with worry as I mentally prepare a list of possible punishments that Dad will sentence me to. Grounded for the rest of the summer? Sent home? Forced to do his laundry?
I glance around the cell. There’s a woman throwing a tantrum in the corner, throwing her body around and slapping the floor as though it’ll help her get out of here. There’s also a man built of muscle standing in silence with his back against the wall and his huge arms folded across his chest. I refrain from meeting his eyes.
From our spot on the bench, Tyler and I sit close by each other but not close enough to touch. He groans under his breath and drops his head, leaning forward to prop his elbows up on his knees. “My mom will get us out of it,” he murmurs. He exchanges a quick sideways glance with me, but I’m not entirely convinced.
“What? Because she’s an attorney?” I snort. It’s impossible to be positive in this terrible situation, but the more I think about it, the more I realize Ella knows the law like the back of her hand. She has to. And with knowing the law comes knowing the loopholes.
“Because she’s done it before,” he says as he straightens up again. He interlocks his hands and twiddles his thumbs, his eyes focused on his lap. “She always gets me out of it.”
“Before,” I echo. I roll my eyes before focusing on what’s on the other side of the metal bars. There are desks overflowing with paperwork and telephones that apparently never stop ringing. There’s also a security officer standing watching over us all from afar, his wrinkled face pulled tight, his eyes narrowed. I tilt my head to face Tyler again. “How many times have you been arrested?”
The corners of his lips quirk upward into a smirk. “Once. Twice. Maybe a couple more than that.”
“What for?”
“Um.” He scratches his head as he rolls his tongue over his lower lip. I can’t help thinking about his mouth again. “Stupid stuff,” he finally admits. He shrugs as he gets to his feet, straightening up and stretching his arms. I gaze at him, not quite caring about what he’s about to say. “Fighting,” he says as he cracks his knuckles, “vandalism, disrupting the peace.” He chuckles as he throws a cautious glance over his shoulder. “And trespassing,” he finishes.
“At least you haven’t killed anybody,” I say lightly, but I don’t know why. A week ago I would have turned my nose up in disgust at him for even being arrested in the first place, no matter what for. But now the enigma that is Tyler Bruce is winning me over and my opinion on him has greatly altered within three days.
“Not yet,” he corrects. He presses his lips together, pursing them slightly as his eyes narrow back into their usual state. “I’ve got someone in mind.” My lustful gaze immediately turns to horror. Tyler mimics my expression before letting a sharp laugh escape his lips. “Eden,” he says, shaking his head and quickly rolling his eyes.
“I haven’t figured out your sense of humor yet,” I defend, folding my arms across my chest and heaving a sigh. He’s still a puzzle to me. “I didn’t even know that you had one.”
He smiles again and gives me a clipped nod. “Good one.”
“Bruce, Munro,” a voice barks. It startles the two of us and Tyler promptly spins around to meet the disapproving eyes of a Culver City police officer on the other side of the bars. “Your parents are here.” Our cell companions laugh.
“We’re going to die,” I tell myself quietly as my breathing quickens. I try to swallow the lump in my throat as I will myself to keep it together. “Oh my God. We’re actually going to die.”
“Shut up,” Tyler orders, his voice even quieter than mine, and he fixes me with a stern look as I stand. “Let me do the talking.”
Thankfully, our arresting officer—Officer Sullivan—is no longer around. Perhaps he’s back out on the streets, searching for more Fourth of July celebrators’ nights to ruin. He seemed stubborn that way, like he had a deeply rooted grudge he wanted to take out on everyone else. The second officer is a lot younger and a lot less frightening. His name is Officer Greene, and he unlocks the cell and swings open the barred door for us.
“Follow me,” he commands with a sigh. I trail along behind Tyler through the bustling station as officers brush past us with little respect. Officer Greene leads us out of the main office and into a smaller one, and lo and behold, there are my dad and Ella.
Dad’s hands are on his hips as his scornful eyes fix on the pair of us, and I fear he might pass out. He looks pretty riled up. Ella is angled slightly in front of him, and for the first time I see her with a completely solemn expression. She firmly presses her lips together, her hands clasped in front of her. Whenever I’ve seen her furious at Tyler, there’s always been a hint of motherly sympathy in her features. But right now, there’s nothing. She has her attorney face on.
“What the hell are you two playing at?” Dad snaps. His face continues to grow a hot red as he huffs, but Ella quickly steps forward to cut in before anyone can muster up a reply.
“Officer . . .?” She pauses to squint at Officer Greene’s badge.
“Greene,” he finishes for her.
“Officer Greene,” she says. Clearing her throat, she extends her arm to shake his hand. “Can you explain to me why they have been arrested for trespassing? By the way, I’m an attorney.” She arches her brows as she awaits an answer, and Officer Greene shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a little surprised, knowing he can’t bullshit his way around her.
“Trespassing under Penal Code 602,” he states without leaving her eyes, “within Culver City High School. Only the specified areas of the campus were open to the public for this evening’s celebrations and they were found in a hallway in a closed block.”
“Really?” Ella almost laughs at how pathetic it all sounds, and I’m stunned to see her so in control. She’s normally rather quiet, only ever raising her voice at Tyler. “They stumble into the wrong hallway and you arrest them?”
“Ma’am, I was not the arresting officer,” Greene informs her. “Officer Sullivan doesn’t have much patience and your son here was showing a bit of attitude when asked to leave. They were given several chances to do so.”
Tyler snorts but quickly stops himself and drops his head to the ground before anyone can call him out. Ella does, however, shoot him a fiery glare.
“I was in that school tonight,” she continues, fixing her attention back on Officer Greene, “and I do recall seeing ‘NO ENTRY’ signs. But ‘NO ENTRY’ signs are not the same as signs warning that trespassing is an infraction and, therefore, neither of them were properly informed that they were committing an offense. They cannot be arrested on the grounds of your colleague’s short temper.”
The entire time that Ella is speaking, Dad glowers at me. I can’t quite meet his eyes and I try to focus anywhere else but on him. To my right, Tyler is biting back laughter as he presses a hand to his mouth. I’d totally kick him in the shin if there weren’t a cop standing next to us. He manages to compose himself, but the second he lifts his head and meets my eyes he starts laughing again. He bites the back of his hand as he stares at the ground.
“How about we save both of us the paperwork and I let this one slide?” I hear Officer Greene say, and immediately my eyes flicker over to him. He offers his hand to Ella.
“Respectable decision, Officer,” Ella comments, and they shake on the agreement. I see her exchange a brief glance with Dad, and he nods as though they’re telepathic.
“Alright,” Dad says. “You two, out to the car. Right now.”
Tyler’s laughter has subsided by now, and he shrugs at me as Dad barges through the middle of us. “Someone’s mad as hell,” he mutters under his breath. He nudges my arm before turning around, the two of us following close on Dad’s heels and out of the station. Ella doesn’t join us.
It’s dark when we get outside into the station parking lot, and it’s growing late, too. As we approach the Range Rover in silence, Jamie peers through the tinted windows at us. I pull open the door to find Chase asleep at the other side.
“What’d you do this time?” Jamie asks, but his eyes are on Tyler, not me.
“Something I shouldn’t have,” Tyler mutters in reply, and he throws me a knowing smile.
I climb inside, Tyler behind me, and we all have to shove Chase further along until he’s pressed against the door at the other side. Jamie only heaves a tremendous sigh. I look up at Dad to find him gripping the steering wheel in silence, and I’m just about to ask him if he’s okay when Ella comes storming over to the car. She throws open the passenger door, gets in and slams it shut again.
“Nice going, Mom,” Tyler says. He leans forward and rubs her shoulder. “You’re killing ’em.”
She quickly shakes his hand off her and barely even glances at him in the rearview mirror before opening her mouth to speak. “Don’t even talk to me, Tyler,” she warns, her voice scolding. “One of these days I’m just not going to turn up. I’m so disappointed in you.”
“I’m disappointed in you too, Eden,” Dad chips in gruffly. He shakes his head and starts up the engine, slowly backing out of the parking lot. “What the hell were you doing inside in the first place? I’m pretty sure the event was outside.”
“No,” Tyler quips. “The event was definitely inside.” He runs a finger inconspicuously down my thigh, stopping at my knee. It creates the oddest sensation.
“Cut it out with the attitude,” Ella snaps. She must be livid, because she never snaps. “I just had to sign for both of you to get out of there when I could have easily just left you all night, okay? So here’s an idea, Tyler: Just sit there and be quiet for once in your life.”
That shuts him up for the journey back to Santa Monica, but it doesn’t stop him from skimming his thumb over my palm or playfully bumping his knee against mine or staring at me. I’m surprised no one notices. I certainly do, and I try my hardest to ignore him, despite the shivers running through me at his every touch.
It’s almost midnight when we get back to Deidre Avenue. Dad is worn out from the driving, but he still manages to carry Chase into the house and put him to bed without waking him. Jamie disappears into his room too.
“I don’t even know what to say to you, Tyler,” Ella murmurs as she locks the front door. She presses her palm against the glass panel, but she doesn’t turn around to face him. “I’ve just—I’ve had enough.” Her voice is pained, and she sighs as she turns around and walks toward us. “Eden, just go to your room. Get some sleep.”
When she gives me a small smile, I realize she’s really asking for privacy. I nod, glancing between both of them before heading for the stairs. Dad passes me on my way up and we both pause.
“I should call your mom,” he says quietly. It feels odd hearing him mention her. Out of place, even.
“Don’t.” I pull a face and pout. Mom is already stressed enough with her work; she doesn’t need me being arrested piled onto her too. “It’ll only worry her.”
“It’s worrying me, Eden!” he starts to yell, but it fades to a whisper midway through. He glances around to make sure he hasn’t disrupted anything, and then he presses a hand to his forehead. “What the hell is going on with you? I know you’ve been going to parties. I’m forty, not sixty. I don’t care about you enjoying yourself. Hell, it’s summer. What I care about is the impact it’s having on you. You’ve already lied to me a bunch of times, and now this? Who are you even hanging out with?”
Dad’s abruptness takes me aback. I thought he was oblivious to where I was going and what I was doing, but it seems he’s more aware than I thought he was. “Um,” I say. “Rachael from across the street. Tiffani. Um. Tiffani . . . Parkinson, I think?”
“Tyler’s girlfriend?” Dad asks, but he doesn’t even give me the chance to nod back. “Are you hanging out with the whole group of them? Dean Carter? That Jake guy?”
“And Meghan,” I mumble. I didn’t take him as a dad who paid attention to which people were in which friendship circle. “We’re all friends.”
“Well,” he says slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, “at least they’re nice kids. Look, you know what, just go to bed.” Unbuttoning the top of his shirt, he shakes his head in defeat and continues on downstairs.
I don’t know what the hell that was, but I don’t want to stick around and wait for it to happen again. Darting into my room, I kick off my sneakers and spin around to close my door, but Tyler is standing there. I almost choke.
“Hey,” he whispers as he takes a step into my room. His eyes glance around as though it’s the first time he’s ever been in here.
“Hi.” His eyes fall back to mine, and I can’t quite tell what he’s thinking about or how he’s feeling. My open door casts a shadow over his face, so I can’t see the shade of his eyes and the emotions within them. “What’d your mom say?”
“Nothing,” he says, his voice low. “Sorry for taking you down with me. I should have just left when the cop told us to.”
“It’s fine.” My anger has fizzled away to nothing by now. We didn’t end up being charged, so I plan to pass it off as a simple misunderstanding between the officer and us.
Tyler opens his mouth to speak again, but the sharp shrill of a phone cuts him off. I can hear the vibrations through his jeans as he reaches into his pocket. His lips falter into a frown when he looks at the screen. “Tiffani,” he murmurs. He looks like he’s contemplating declining the call for a moment, but he shakes his head and shoots me an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I gotta talk to her. She’ll get mad if I ignore her.”
And just like that, everything inside me sinks. Everything drowns. My chest almost collapses on itself, tightening in ways unimaginable as I force myself to keep breathing. Anxiety hits me again in one big wave. I’ve been so caught up in him these past couple hours that I completely forgot he has a girlfriend.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, grimacing at the screen once more before looking back up to take in my frozen posture. I feel sick again and he seems to notice, because he takes a step toward me but then quickly changes his mind. A tremendous sigh echoes around the room and he squeezes his phone tighter. “I’m really sorry. I have to,” he whispers. Dropping his eyes to the carpet, he slowly turns around and leaves.
I stand there feeling completely numb while he accepts the call, murmuring, “Hey, what’s up?” just before the door of his room clicks shut.
But his voice has no energy to it at all.
It’s as lifeless as I feel.
