Don't Stop Holding Me (Y.A Series Book 5) Read online

  Don’t Stop Holding Me

  (Y.A Series Book 5)

  By

  Sarah Tork

  Copyright ©2017 Sarah Tork

  Smashwords edition

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Photo from Dreamstime.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  About the Author

  Prologue

  JAMES

  Wednesday August 1, 2012

  Reality hits me like a hammer.

  Seeing 7:59 a.m. in bright red numbers on my alarm clock was the epitome of a nasty storm screaming hello from miles away, promising to viciously rip me to shreds. Pinching my eyes shut tight, I took long deep breaths, feeling like a frustrated bull stuck in a box with no way out.

  “Get up, lazy ass!” My dad began to pound at my door, which made think of a fat caveman in a cheetah skin dress, holding a huge bone. “You don’t open this door, I’ll open it anyways. This is my house, you understand, boy!”

  He didn’t wait for me to answer the door, barging in instead. My heart raced as I automatically got up from my bed and stood right in front of him, leaning down a little since I was an inch taller. “The only thing I understand… is a grown ass man, barging into his oldest son’s room, acting like a prick for no god damn reason.”

  He sneered at me. “Keep the fucking volume down, this is my house. My family doesn’t need to hear you mouth off to me.”

  I smirked at him. “Well Jimmy boy, the floor is yours, what brings the head of the Lawson Brigade 2.0 by my little room. Oh sorry…. it’s not my room, right? Your house, your room, this is all your shit.”

  He shook his head, looking at me in disgust. “You’re such a fucking smart ass. That mother of yours has spoiled your ass, turning you into a disrespectful bitch that talks back to his father. Listen, if you’re not up and downstairs in the next five minutes__”

  “Or what?” I snapped, feeling myself grow aggressive. “What are you going to do, kick me out? Do it…. say yes. Free me from this fucking hellhole. Do something for me, for once in your goddamn life.”

  Shaking his head, my dad curled his lip like he smelt something bad. “Jesus Christ, kid. Is it that time of the month, or something? Do you need a fucking tampon? Are you even a man, James? For fuck’s sake, quit that drama queen shit, and get your ass downstairs for breakfast.” He stormed out of the room and I felt like the wind was knocked out of me.

  Why does he want me here? I sat back down on my bed, rested my elbows on my knees and curled my hands over my face, trying to control my breathing and heart rate. The day just started and I couldn’t wait for it to be over. Six and half months of this shit would be the death of me. Somebody was bound to go to jail or juvie; the question was… who’d actually pop off first?

  Five minutes later….

  “Damn it, Janet. Where’s the food?” Dad grilled his wife who was cooking scrambled eggs, pancakes, and frying bacon as fast as she could. He jumped out of his chair and marched to a halt behind Janet as she flipped a pancake. He leaned over her shoulder and pulled her hair back, kissing her right below her ear. “I have places I need to be, hurry up. A man needs his food.”

  She giggled and my stomach lurched in disgust. I did not need to see that shit. There’s no way breakfast was going down without a hitch now. I looked away, coming face to face with Gram, my six year old half brother.

  “You’re in my spot,” he told me, reminding me of someone with the way his lip curled; eyeing space like it was territory.

  “Sorry, little bro. I’m sitting here for breakfast today, grab the seat to my left, no one’s sitting there.” I told him playfully, ruffling his hair.

  He yanked his head back, fixing his hair instantly. “That’s my spot.”

  “And today it’s mine.” I replied, leaning into my chair.

  Gram grabbed the table with one hand and the back of my chair with his other, and leaned into me. “You know I’m going to be taller than you one day, and stronger. Don’t make me angry. I will beat you up when I get older and bigger.”

  My jaw dropped. Who was teaching him this shit? I glanced up as Janet set three plates of food on the table and Dad took a seat, eyeing me amusedly.

  “Fighting with a six year old, James? Geez, that’s embarrassing.” Dad scoffed, shaking his head while helping himself first.

  I want to go back to sleep….

  Awhile later… slowly on route to the country club, my dad’s face turned shades of blue and purple with creases everywhere. He looked like a purple balloon on the brink of explosion.

  “Listen, right now, because I’m not going to repeat myself!” His monster breath came at me like a missile.

  I knew I’d get shit from him for being ten minutes late, but holy shit… was he saving that dragon breath the whole way? My heart pounded like a malfunctioning jackhammer.

  My fists ached to move, wanting to smash his face. To show him… he couldn’t treat me like a punk and get away with it, and that I was stronger than him, and the only pussy here was him, acting like a King Bitch on his period over a… soft… weak as hell… golf game, he’d probably lose anyway.

  “When I tell you to be in the fucking car by a certain time, you’d better be on time!” He pressed the car break at the top of the hill and the car screeched to a stop. “I’m late for tee time and I’m gonna have to rush out with my golf clubs like a fucking pussy in front of my colleagues. You hear that, James! People I fucking work with!”

  My patience was on the verge of annihilation. Anymore dragon breath, and I was jumping out of a moving car and running to France where my mom and her boyfriend were right now.

  “Better be the last fucking time you fuck up my schedule with your shit!”

  He kept screaming about looking like a bitch in front of his balding beer gut buddies. I took refuge by looking out the window, wondering why I decided to get my car serviced yesterday. Shit was getting too real, and I was at my breaking point. My hand itched, everything inside of me, pushing me, screaming at me to unlock the door and just go… jump, escape…. no matter what happened, even if I ended up in the hospital.

  But I didn’t.

  Something stopped me.

  The proverbial storm slowly ended as clouds parted and sunshine spilled, highlighting a girl on a bike jetting down the hill like nothing mattered, like nothing could stop her from
being that…. free.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  I wanted to feel that free.

  Chapter 1

  ANNABELLE

  Wednesday October 31, 2012

  Carla Bakersmith was not taking no for an answer. She and her posse of evil flight attendants were blocking the way out of the washroom. “Stop ignoring me, Becky. Four years of friendship and you want to throw it away over a stupid boy? It meant nothing. It was a dare! We were all laughing the whole time!”

  Becky stayed quiet, not that I blamed her. Disloyal former friends didn’t deserve acknowledgement in my opinion, and if Jenna were here, she’d classify Becky’s latest move as “The Ultimate Bitch Slap”.

  Carla’s posse of flight attendants stepped up to save the day.

  FA1: “Carla’s totally telling the truth. Johnny even looked like he was gonna puke right after.”

  FA2. “Totally. Like, you need to believe us.”

  FA3: “You have to believe us, we were there and you weren’t. Don’t you trust our judgment?”

  FA4: “Carla would never do that to you. How could you even think that? That’s totally cruel of you, Becky.”

  Okay… what? That last one, though? Number four’s an idiot.

  Carla nodded frantically. “It was a joke. I don’t even like Johnny like that. Why would I do something like that, especially with someone my best friend obviously… loves? Whatever you think you saw, you need to know… I’d never do something like that.”

  I wasn’t buying it, and it looked like Becky didn’t either because she wasn’t saying a thing.

  Carla erupted like a volcano. “I don’t understand why you just can’t get over it!”

  Wake up Annabelle! Jenna would have said something by now! Stand up for your friend!

  “Get out of our way!” I demanded, ready to tackle my way out of the washroom.

  “Mind your own business. You and that show off have done enough.” Carla growled at me.

  “Done what exactly?” I challenged her, feeling my heart race like crazy. “This is all your fault. So don’t blame anybody but yourself.”

  Practically breathing fire now, I looked to Becky for our next move, which I hoped involved charging out of the washroom… angry EX-BEST FRIEND be damned.

  Carla moved out of our way, as did her posse. “You leave without hearing me out, I swear…. we’re done for life.”

  We were free to leave, but would Becky take this final plunge, thus legitimately ending their friendship… officially?

  Becky glanced at me. She looked calm as a cucumber, but I wasn’t buying it. I’d find out later if she was emotionally “dying” or not. We had serious business to deal with right now.

  “Ready to go?” I asked.

  Becky nodded. I grabbed her arm and led the way out, but not without a few last words from her final, stamp approved EX-BEST FRIEND.

  “You’re nothing to me, you hear me! Good luck with your new idiot friends. And you know what, I’m not sorry for what I did! It may have been a joke to begin with, but I’m glad I did it. It’s about time you came off your high horse, miss thing! Thinking you’re Donna or something. Bitch, you’re not! But, please…. Becky, stop. Come back. I’m sorry!”

  Carla’s hate declaration/apology drowned away as the washroom door closed. Not taking any chances for another reunion, Becky and I rushed away, finding a secluded hallway where we sat on the floor in front of a row of lockers.

  I patted Becky’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  Becky finally looked me in the eye; she had that scorned look down pat. Fifteen minutes ago, she was having a blast, dancing in the gym. Then the standoff in the washroom happened and well… I had no idea how to snap her out of it.

  “Do you know what love feels like?”

  She speaks.

  I immediately cringed. “Are you asking me because you don’t know, or…. are you asking me because you want to compare and contrast?” Why on earth did I just answer her question with another question?

  Ugh…. Face palm status.

  Light chuckles came from Becky. “You’re funny, Anna.”

  Not the enlightenment I was going for, but it wasn’t “You suck, we’re not friends anymore!” either. I grinned, feeling slightly goofy. “Ugh, tragically funny, maybe? Sorry though, I’m not used to questions, and giving advice and all that stuff. That’s more Jenna’s domain.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Anna.” Becky nudged her shoulder into mine. “So one more time… do you know what love feels like?”

  I sighed and went for the simple approach. “Yeah, I know what love feels like. At least, I think I do.”

  “You see,” Becky chuckled again. “That wasn’t so hard.”

  “Do you know about the ol’ love thing too?” I asked playfully.

  She banged the back of her head against the locker door. “I wish… I didn’t,”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling bad for her again.

  “Love is horrible,” Becky breathed. “Johnny and me are… over. But I wake up every day thinking one thing… am I ever going to be genuinely happy again?”

  Wow.

  Up until a few weeks ago, my story in the “love” department ran along the same bitter track as Becky’s. While hers kept on its course, my story turned a corner and for now things were going okay.

  “I’m no expert,” I exhaled, feeling the weight of her problems on my back.

  “I need a spell to snap out of this funk.” Becky scoffed. “Do you know any witches, sorcerers, goblins, or fairies? I’m not picky. I’ll take whatever I can get, honestly.”

  I chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I know a witch. Her name’s Donna.”

  Grinning, Becky straightened her posture. “Donna Tallins is most definitely a witch. Her room’s probably a dungeon filled with rat bones and snakes.”

  I chuckled picturing Donna with nasty boils on her face. “We’re totally evil, it’s official.”

  Becky sighed grumpily. “I’ll take that pill…. if it means having control back.”

  And…. we’re back to square one. Wonderful.

  I cleared my throat and tried again. “And, um, yeah, if Donna were actually a witch, there’d be a doll with my name on it, and a thousand pins sticking out of it.”

  “Yeah, probably.” Becky murmured, lost in her sea of darkness again.

  Well… it was nice while it lasted.

  Down the hallway, a teacher cleared her throat. “Ladies, the dance is over. You have to vacate school grounds for the night.”

  “Sorry,” I called out.

  Becky cleared her throat. “Yeah…. sorry. We’re leaving now.”

  Unhooking my cape from around my neck, I followed Becky down the hallway as her phone chimed. She quickly texted something and stopped by the parking lot exit. She pointed out the window.

  “They were fighting again,” she murmured, her fingers lingering on the door window.

  “What?” I cringed, joining her by the door and taking a look outside. James? The parking lot was empty except for Mr. Nolan, the shop teacher. With his back to us, he stood in the center of the parking lot with his arms crossed.

  “What’s going on?” I murmured and pulled my phone from my pocket. There were five missed text messages from James, starting back from thirty minutes ago.

  Tiger: Fireball, it’s a sausage fest out here. Get over here.

  Tiger: This costume is fucking giving me heat stroke; I’m taking it off.

  Tiger: Where are you?

  Tiger: I’m turning into a pussy, but I don’t give a shit. I need you. Ditch Becky and come to me.

  Tiger: Mr. Nolan kicked everyone out of the fucking parking lot. I’m waiting on the road.

  Ugh, here we go again.

  Wonderful.

  Becky’s phone chimed again, breaking my focus. “That’s my aunt,” she announced, tucking her phone inside her pocket. “She’s here to pick me up. See you later, Anna.”

  Becky left and
it confused me as I thought she’d be getting a ride home from Peter tonight.

  Why am I worried about this? I need to mind my own business and worry about my own life.

  I exited the building and Peter’s car roared down the street. I had one guess what that was all about…. but it wasn’t my problem.

  But it was probably about Becky.

  Again… not my problem.

  My “problem” however was across the street, staring at me with a sly grin. My belly quickly filled with wild butterflies.

  “There you are, Fireball.” Leaning against his car, wearing a white t-shirt and dark jeans, with his signature backward baseball cap, my boyfriend’s green eyes were playful.

  “What happened?” I asked, crossing the street to him. His muscles flexed underneath the fabric of his shirt as he reached out and took me in his arms.

  Feeling his warmth on my fully clothed body was both torturous and amazing. It was out of this world, but the way he smelled, a mixture of cologne and body wash did more harm than good. His scent was a switch, turning my hormones to max.