What Love Means Read online

  L-O-V-E

  Finn Manning

  Copyright © 2017 Finn Manning

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only. Content on the cover is used for illustrative purposes only and includes a model from a stock photo. Names, characters, places, and incidents in this book are either made up by the author or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Notes:

  Part of the fun of spelling bees is guessing the words as they’re said but that’s hard to do in book format. Each chapter has a word associated with it and there’s an opportunity for you to guess the spelling. I’ve provided the pronunciation and information a speller would get on one page and the correct spelling on the following page.

  If you like free books, want to sample some of Finn’s other works, or enjoy shameless self-promotion, then there’s goodies for you at the end of this book! Thank you for giving this book a shot and let me know what you think :)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Prologue

  Max

  The purr of the motorcycle sent vibrations up my thighs. The wind whistled in my ears as I shot around a corner. I leaned into the motion and tightened my grip on the handlebars. A jolt of adrenaline zinged down my spine as I relied on skill and luck to carry me through. I felt invincible as I raced down back alleys and reveled in the soaring sensation that came from rushing down the road.

  I parked my motorcycle at the latest worn-down, abandoned warehouse that had turned into a party spot for vagrants like me. While I hadn’t had anything to drink yet, the ride made me feel buzzed and on top of the world. I guess that’s what people meant by a natural high. Huh. I normally go for the unnatural highs when offered, but being on a bike almost beat anything drugs or alcohol could do.

  Almost. It depended on whether a guy was pressed up behind me on the bike or not.

  The lot held bikes and beat up cars along with some kids I recognized from school, but the Lexus’s, Audis, and BMWs made me sigh. Even in the dim light they sparkled. Some rich kids from a prep school must have wrangled an invite to see what the kids from the ‘other side of the tracks’ got up to. My friends loved scoring with the yuppies who did things with them no self-respecting girls could do with their boyfriends while the girls loved hooking up with someone their parents would disapprove of.

  Too much hassle for me. Besides, I gave up girls years ago. I didn’t know the preppy kids at this party and didn’t care about them. Until I saw him.

  Lust, noun

  Intense yearning or desire

  A blue-eyed hottie filled Max with lust.

  Chapter 1

  L-U-S-T

  Max

  Bodies filled the decrepit, rusting building while the chilly night air had many openings to invade the space inside the run-down walls of the old warehouse. Maybe that was why several empty barrels held fires or maybe that was for ambiance. It didn’t seem like this forgotten place would have any electricity, yet someone somehow got music playing.

  People cheered and danced while the booze flowed liberally. Then glow sticks appeared. This was going to turn into a rave. I fucking hated raves. I missed the days when it was just me and the guys breaking into some ramshackle place that no one even used or cared about but went through the trouble of locking anyway.

  And now snobs infiltrated the party, their stares boring into me – the scowling guy who filled out his leather jacket – with disdain and grudging interest. Rich kids were all the same, with critical eyes and upturned noses, both envious and judging of those below them. Good to fool around with sometimes but that was all they were good for.

  I grabbed a drink so I’d be able to get through this night. Okay, I was probably going to have a couple drinks anyway but this one I threw back too fast to make the EDM and snobs bearable.

  Finding someone to spend the evening with would normally make a night like this perfect. However, an unexpected surge of déjà vu stopped my perusal of the assembled bodies. This night felt like all the others but not in a good way. Nothing out of the ordinary would happen, just drinking, dancing, and partying. Even the preppy kids looking for a spot of rough in their polished, perfect lives happened regularly enough to not warrant surprise.

  I’d just turned 18 but suddenly felt old. This life was new and thrilling a few years ago, so how could I be tired of it already? It seemed bland: the same thing I did last week and would do again next week. I wasn’t out of high school yet but, as I didn’t plan on attending college, more of the same was my likely future. That shouldn’t be a bad thing… except being a teenage delinquent had become the norm. I had enough older friends with loose morals that even getting alcohol for my underage self wasn’t a thrill or challenge.

  I was no longer part of this event but outside of it even though I was in the middle of revelers. I stood separate from them as noise and laughter and neon lights flittered around me without touching me. I was at a distance, a million miles away and right there at the same time, looking at it all with detached disinterest and wondering how I got here.

  It’s like all the atmosphere had to travel a great length until it reached my senses. When the distance snapped, it was a rush. All of it hit me at once, colliding into me like a freight train and nearly making me stagger: the pounding music, the movement of limbs, him.

  Why had I been down? All it took was an intriguing guy to snap me out of it. Amazing what a pretty face and a nice body could do. I didn’t mind listening to shitty music and being surrounded by a sweaty crowd since he was here too. Nothing was wrong with my life; I just needed some action.

  Rebellious teens looking for a good time poured into places like this as soon as word got out about a party. Gotta love technology. It made him stand out more because instead of tight clothes and club gear, he looked like he came here straight from the library or country club. He wore pressed brown pants, somehow still perfect despite this atmosphere, and a stupid preppy shirt with a little animal logo on it. Lots of people dug bad boys but not me. I played the bad boy, so I enjoyed the innocent ones.

  He looked like the kind of guy I had absolutely nothing in common with, but I only needed him to be attracted to me too. We didn’t need to talk. I felt a surge of adrenaline spread through my body, not from a motorcycle ride this time, from interest while I prepared to make my move. I imagined running my hands through that perfect, gelled hair. His blond locks changed color with all the neon lights in here now, becoming purple, blue, pink for an instant. The lights played over his sharp, classical features while my hands itched with the need to touch.

  I wasn’t superstitious, but the fingers of my left hand played with the threaded turquoise bracelet around my right wrist without any conscious thought on my part. It was like a good luck charm as I drifted in behind him and pressed my body close to his. He stiffened yet didn’t pull away immediately. He seemed like the type that mostly stayed indoors with a skinny frame and pale skin in the light of day. I wondere
d if I’d feel his ribs through his shirt as I moved to the music and brushed my hands along his torso, but his unassuming figure hid lithe muscles.

  I ran my hands up and down his arms while his biceps flexed under the attention like he couldn’t help it. His skin felt warm and electric. Though the drink I had might have dulled my senses some, any fog in my mind melted away by touching him. My body buzzed and responded to him, senses awakening, all demanding to get as much of him as possible. I wanted to feast on his smell and taste and touch.

  My hands moved down his thin but toned body, tightening minutely on his waist, and then he was out of my grasp. My stomach dropped but that’s stupid… there were other guys, gay ones or those who got brave enough to experiment after consuming too much liquor. He probably had a girlfriend and was almost definitely some snobby rich kid. I’d find someone else. I could do better. Except something about him felt magnetic; I’d be drawn in his direction the whole night even if he walked away.

  Only he didn’t go far. He turned and looked at me. Maybe I imagined the spark of fire in his eyes or maybe he felt the electricity between us too. His body moved close to mine again as both our hands explored this time. He smelled clean, with a hint of something sharper and appealing. Bright blue eyes peeked at me from beneath his lashes as he sent me a smile that was more shy and uncertain than coy, but his nerves didn’t stop him. He held me tight and rocked his hips into mine in time with the music. God, I wanted to devour him.

  Was I in a mood earlier? I didn’t remember. There’s only dancing, drinks, and him. And life was anything but predictable because he made the first move. I couldn’t say whether we spent minutes or hours on the dancefloor when his lips captured mine and a quick tongue slid into my mouth, greedy and demanding, while his hands groped and squeezed at my ass.

  I only had one complaint after that: the night passed too quickly.

  ***

  Weak orange light struggled to illuminate the darkness when I climbed up the grimy fire escape to my window. I listened to the quiet inside before slowly sliding it up and slipping in. Sneaking out wasn’t quite the thrill it used to be when I was 14 and had never done a bad thing in my life but it was a habit I wasn’t able to give up by strolling in through the front door.

  I didn’t need to worry about disapproving authority figures. As a nurse who often worked night shifts, nothing but the alarm clock woke mom when she was out. My 11-year-old sister April was a different story. She’ll spring up without a problem for Saturday morning cartoons or the chance to judge her brother.

  The lamp on my desk was on. I sighed as I switched it off, glaring down at the college brochures that had been illuminated a moment ago. April kept sneaking them into my room. My senior year of high school just started. Maybe other kids were getting ready to apply for college, but it wasn’t like I needed a degree to work on cars anyway. I worked part time at an auto shop and my boss loved me like a son and didn’t have an actual son I needed to worry about taking over the family business.

  It's not like I’d even get in anyway. Keeping my grades up got my mom and teachers off my back, but it’s not like I ever ‘applied myself,’ and I treated attendance as optional instead of compulsory. My family wasn’t exactly flush with cash either. And applying for scholarships? That would feel too much like trying. That came with unpleasant things like wanting more or getting my hopes up. I’d already learned my lesson about that.

  It was too early for teen angst. I moved toward my bed while conjuring up more pleasant thoughts. Memories played in my mind, now hazy thanks to the liquor. I saw gelled, perfect blond hair, straight teeth and a winning smile, and a preppy shirt with a popped collar. I messed that hair up and got my hands under his shirt. It was a good night. Mr. Fancy would probably spend the day stewing in gay panic while I slept in.

  I pulled back the covers of my bed to find a mess of dark hair and pink pajamas curled into a ball. April always had a radar for when I snuck out. She could have a great career as a prison warden or something. Though hiding in an inmate’s bed would probably be frowned upon.

  I tried to gingerly get into bed without waking April, laying on my side on the very edge of the bed. April was my favorite person in the world but also the most annoying. I remembered that when I heard a sleepy sigh and tired but still remarkably judgmental little voice. “Almost time for school.” She shuffled around to reassert her claim on my mattress.

  “I’m taking a personal day.” I wiggled and got as comfortable as possible to indicate that I didn’t plan on getting up anytime soon. She’d get up shortly anyway because April had perfect attendance. She was the kind of student I used to be: eager, determined, hardworking. A total nerd.

  She tugged at my arm. “I mean it, April,” I grunted before shoving my head firmly into the pillow. She was the scholar while I was the slacker. Life worked better in these clearly defined roles and meant I didn’t have to try as hard. The three R’s of education were Reading, wRiting, and aRithmetic. Overrated. I saved my energy for the three B’s: Bikes, Booze, and Boys.

  There was another disappointed sigh before she crawled over me and got out of bed. I sprawled out in the newfound space.

  “You’ll be at my school later?” she asked. I didn’t respond since she walked home from school. I didn’t pick her up. Not because I was unwilling but because her little tween friends gawked over me and embarrassed her.

  “You promised you’d be there today,” she tried. I doubted that but was too tired to argue. “I have a spelling bee.”

  Oh hell no. I opened one eye to glare at her with as much distaste as possible. She stared back calmly. I didn’t have enough energy to fight her on this. I sighed. April took that as the surrender it was and hugged me before leaving. I was probably dreaming and just didn’t know it. April didn’t compete in spelling bees. Those were the most embarrassing relics of my past.

  Any slumber involving spelling bees would be a nightmare, so I tried to persuade my subconscious to create a better dream instead. Drifting between awake and asleep, it was easy to remember the guy from earlier. I dreamed of blond hair and tugging on the collar of a preppy shirt.

  ***

  Cal

  Pain was weakness leaving the body. That was some ‘fitspiration’ mantra I vaguely recalled from gym class. The Winthrop-Scotts didn’t do pain. Or weakness. Or going to the gym for that matter. We were perfect effortlessly and without trying. Well, it took quite a bit of effort, but it couldn’t look like that. It looked effortless – and image was everything – so the behind the scenes goings on didn’t count.

  I was about as far from perfect as I could be right now: tired, hungover, and wearing sweatpants. In public. I didn’t even want to know what I looked like or how big the bags under my eyes were. I stood in the hallway of this school and handed my ID to the teacher at the registration desk when all I really wanted was to lay down. Not even at home in my bed. Right here would do. People could step over me.

  “Calvin Theodore Winthrop-Scott,” intoned the bored woman reading from her registration sheet. Her voice was sleepy even though her eyes expressed judgement. I might have deserved the disapproving look as I smelled like smoke and a distillery but that didn’t mean she had the right to deliver it. She wore cheap Lens Crafters glasses and had a travel mug instead of a Starbucks cup.

  She didn’t comment though, so maybe I judged her too harshly. She was probably a credit to this public-school system. I wasn’t at my best. Still… “The third,” I added. I couldn’t help it. Calvin Theodore Winthrop-Scott III. Just saying my full name was a production, so it might as well be said right.

  “What a mouthful,” she drawled.

  “It’s Cal.” I smiled, belatedly going for charm.

  “It doesn’t matter.” So much for that charm. “You’re in room 103.”

  I would usually stroll in here without a hair out of place, ready to conquer the SAT whether for the first or fifth time. I was on time two of five now. Our family did everything
we did right, so I’d been expecting a great score on every test and would obviously just use the slightly more perfect score.

  I was going to bomb instead. Bomb? No, that wasn’t very scholarly. There had to be an SAT word for what I was going to do. Flounder. Well, at least that had more letters… and was also a type of fish. Fail, fizzle, flop. No, now I was just thinking of ‘f’ words. Trout. No, that was just a different fish. The dancing and drinking had broken my brain. I walked slowly to the assigned classroom, wondering how my life had gotten derailed. It all came back to Katie March.

  Senior year was supposed to be like a victory lap after conquering high school. The college acceptance letters would roll in as I completed an internship at my father’s company. Hard work secured the position, not nepotism. Hell, I hadn’t been the only candidate my father considered. Nicholas Stewart was the closest person I had to a nemesis. Ostensibly, we were friends. In actuality, we dueled over GPAs, extracurricular accolades, and water polo accomplishments. Nicholas became the water polo captain, but I got the internship. There’d been nothing I wanted more than the internship, with the exception of a rock polisher in third grade. I finally won the right to put that on my transcripts and yet it had been tainted. The same day I got the internship was also the day Katie broke up with me.

  Success felt bittersweet without the perfect girl by my side. Maybe I got too caught up preparing for my future. Maybe I should have spent more time planning dates instead of admittance essays. This rosy school year had barely started before my relationship of over a year ended. That wasn’t in the plan, but I could rally. This would make me stronger. That’s what I kept telling the part of myself that wanted to curl into a ball and cry while watching sad movies and eating ice cream. Was that girly? Why should girls get all the quality post-breakup moping to themselves?

  I was never more thankful to belong to a family whom others might call neurotic and overbearing. My parents instilled preparation and discipline in me from an early age. It wasn’t so silly that I was going to take five total SAT exams now that I was going to tremendously fail one.