The self-righteous, judgmental glare she shot at me lit my short fuse. It wasn’t like she had been Mother Teresa that night, riding my face like she was the Lone Ranger and I, her trusted steed. If this girl wanted to judge my character, then I was absolutely going to judge hers.
I narrowed my gaze. “What kinda girl goes out to a van with a guy who offers her a shitty pick-up line?” Yeah, it was shitty of me...
“That—is not the point.” A slight red tinged her cheeks. “I was having a very bad night. And you...”
“From the way it felt when you came on my face,” I said, “seems I made that very bad night a helluva lot better.” With one swift movement, I pinned her against a dirty car window.
And like I knew she would, she reacted. Latching onto my biceps and pushing, pulling. Pushing… like she couldn’t decide if she wanted me closer or farther away. Rich pricks weren’t as gifted as I was in the arena of vulgarity, so if I had to guess, my ability to make her hot and repulsed at the same time must be a new sensation. So why stop?
“And I’d gladly do it again. Right here.” I moved my hands to her waist, then nudged her legs apart with my knee. “Right now. On the hood of this car, if you want.”
“I…”
“You what?” I breathed against her lips.
Genevieve’s hold on my arm tightened. That’s right, baby girl, try to fight it. The way her chest rose on uneven swells made my dick harder than concrete, and the thought of slipping my dick between her glossy lips sprung to life. My fingers twitched over her sides, the primitive part of me begging to give in. This girl got me going, unlike anything I’d experienced before. I contemplated what filthy line I could throw at her next, but a string of chatter broke through the silence. Genevieve went rigid.
The conversation fell quiet, and I glanced over my shoulder at Nikki, surrounded by a group of her annoying friends. “Are you serious right now?” Her arms crossed her chest while her gaze pinged between Genevieve and me.
There was one way to quickly clear up this misunderstanding, both between Genevieve and me and Nikki and me. “Hey, Nikki,” I said, my hold on Genevieve tightening. “Since you screwed this up last weekend by being a psycho, can you tell her that you’re not my girlfriend?”
Nikki’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Fuck you, Bellamy.” Then she marched off, her troop of mean girls in tow.
“See. Not my girlfriend.” I smiled.
With a roll of her eyes, Genevieve shoved me back a step. “You’re a dick,” she said, brushing past me.
She could call me a dick all day long, but that girl was one hundred percent interested, and I was one hundred percent going to ruin her.
3
Bellamy
The screen door slammed closed behind me, doing little to silence my dad's angry shouts mixed with the ruckus of things breaking inside the house. I swiped a hand at my lip, catching a trickle of blood on my knuckle. I had tried to deescalate the fight and gave the asshole just enough time to get one good swing in on me. And I hated that I’d let him.
Crickets silenced when I hopped over the chain-link fence separating my yard from the one behind us. I cut through the tall weeds to the back door.
“Hey! Nash.” I pounded a fist on the rotting siding. “You in there?”
Footsteps came from inside before the click of the deadbolt sounded. Nash opened the door, and his gaze immediately landed on my lip. “Your old man being a dick again?”
“Yeah.” I shouldered past him straight to the sink to rinse off my mouth.
“Where’s Arlo?”
“At a friends.”
Nodding, he grabbed a tattered dish towel and passed it to me. Nash was one of the few people who actually knew how bad it was at home. Partly because he lived right behind me and couldn’t ignore it. He glanced at my house, then back at me. “You should lay him out one good time.”
The problem was, I had, and it hadn’t made a difference. Dad was an angry drunk. And I’d been his whipping post for most of my life—until I could defend myself. Now, I was nothing but a rival. “I’m just pissed he got a hit in,” I said.
Nash took a beer from the fridge. “Yeah, but girls dig scars, man.” He headed toward his living room, fishing out his wallet before he dropped into the ratty recliner in the corner, then held up a crisp twenty. “You got any on you?”
I pulled a baggie from my pocket and launched it at him before taking the cash. Just like the money I made selling those history tests, this would go into the envelope I kept hidden in my top dresser drawer. An envelope that would eventually have an address scribbled across the front and a stamp placed in the corner.
Nash grabbed his guitar from the side of the couch, strumming out a chord. “Me and some of the guys from the band are having a party tonight if you want to invite your friends over.”
Nash and his friends were wannabe rock stars, and they partied just like they were practicing for fame. Having a night off sounded like a great idea.
Hours later, people crowded into Nash’s small living room, bumping in beat with the music, spilling beer, and smoking.
Hendrix skirted around a group of girls in short skirts, his gaze going straight to their asses. “Man, this is awesome.” He grabbed at his crotch. “If this is what being in a band is about, we need to start one.”
“You can’t play an instrument.”
“I play pussy, Bell. What else do I need to do? I mean...” He dug his phone from his pocket. His brow knitted as he glanced down at the screen. “No way. Wolf said there’s some dickhole named Drew selling weed through Frank’s drive-thru.” Hendrix cracked his neck to the side. “Oh, yeah. Getting into a fight tonight.”
I snatched the phone from his hand, skimming over the text. “Through a drive-thru, really?”
Money had been tight since Hendrix’s brother, Zepp, had gone to jail. This was not the crap any of us needed right now. We were already barely scraping by. “Come on,” I said, digging into my pocket for my keys. “Let’s go down to Frank’s.”
Hendrix fist-pumped the air. “I’m going on a trip, to beat some dumbass dick,” he sang to the tune of the Little Einstein’s theme song. “Soaring through the sky, he might die…”
“You know, your ability to take any children’s song and make it messed up is almost impressive.” I patted his back on my way to the door.
Ten minutes later, we idled in a line that wrapped around Frank’s Famous Chicken. Hendrix sat in the passenger seat, throwing another practice punch. “Why are we in the drive-thru, anyway? We should just go inside and pummel the assdribble.”
“Because for all we know Drew’s from the Northside.”
That shut up Hendrix. We were high school kids pedaling a little pot to scrape by, and those guys...Those guys were full-time drug dealers, and I didn’t really want a bullet in my head. I’d never heard of a guy named Drew in Dayton.
Static crackled over the speakers when I pulled up to the menu board, placed our order, and waited again.
Hendrix huffed, then snatched the boob-shaped stress ball from my dashboard. “You know, if Pepperoni Nips wasn’t such a psycho, you could’ve asked her who the dickhead is.”
“Yeah. Well...”
Asking Nikki anything would be a last resort, even if she did work here. That was for damn sure. One sideways glance from me and she thought I wanted her.
The truck in front of us spit out a black cloud of exhaust as it drove off, and we moved forward.
“I’m telling you, man, if old Salami Tits knew about this Drew thing and she didn’t say anything, I’m gonna hate her even more, and I’m gonna—”
The drive-thru window cranked open with a creak of old hinges, and before I faced the window, the scent of perfume that reminded me of having my tongue on an expensive-tasting pussy wafted inside my car.
My dick was already at attention before Genevieve spun away from the register. “Two number ones and—” Her expression went blank before she released a heavy
groan. “Really?”
“Two number ones, and you forgot the blowjob.”
Hendrix punched my shoulder. “No way, man. She’s hot. I called dibs in my head five seconds ago.”
My gaze remained trained on Genevieve. “I’ve already had my tongue in her pussy, Hendrix.” I cocked a brow. “So, she’s mine.” Sure, it was an asshole thing to say, but girls rarely ever went for a nice guy.
“Definitely not, asshole.” If looks could kill... I probably shouldn’t have found that homicidal gleam in her eyes so hot, but I totally did.
“See!” Hendrix gave me another whack. “If you haven’t pumped your dick in it, it doesn’t count.”
“Dibs, fuckwad.”
Genevieve rolled her eyes. “That’s fifteen seventy-five.”
I passed over the cash. Then the window slammed. So, Miss Champagne and Caviar was about to start at Dayton and she was working a drive-thru? Daddy had most definitely lost the money.... No way some Barrington kid would be working a drive-thru in Dayton if he hadn’t.
“Seriously, Bell. Why do you have to go licking all the hot pussy?” Hendrix slouched in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest like a sulking toddler. “Dick.” I was still staring at him when a grease-stained bag landed in my lap.
“You can go now. Have a nice night,” she said, moving to close the window.
But before it swung shut, I grabbed it. “Come on now, baby girl, you...” My next words were lost when my gaze dropped to her tits, and more importantly, to the plastic name tag pinned to her shirt that read: Drew. No way. No fucking way! “Your name’s Drew?” There was no way in hell that girl was a drug dealer. She was too—everything not Dayton.
She shrugged one shoulder. “What do you want me to say? I wasn’t supposed to see you again.” Then she slammed the drive-thru window.
Swiping a hand over my face, I pressed back against the seat. That girl may not be a true threat, but God, this was a problem. Hendrix snatched the bag from my lap. “Good job, asshole.” Then chucked a fry at my face. “You had your sick tongue slurping over our competition like a Tootsie Pop!” He shook his head.
“She’s not competition, Hendrix. Did you see her?”
“Yeah. She’s hot. I’d buy weed off her.”
I glared at him. “No way that girl is a drug dealer. She’s probably got daddy issues and is trying to do something to get his attention, so she’s selling a handful of dime bags.”
But the problem was, regardless of how much of a threat I felt she posed, we had a reputation. If we let her get away with this little drive-thru stunt, other assholes would try. And eventually, an asshole who would pose a threat would get brave. I had to nip this shit in the bud come Monday morning.
A car horn blared behind us. Hendrix flipped them off, then lowered the window and stuck his head out, shouting, “Go suck a dick. We’re having a crisis!”
“Get back in the car.” I yanked his crazy ass back inside, then floored the accelerator, watching in my side mirror as Drew handed the next customer their mega gulp drink.
That girl was a liar and a con, and God, did I want to fuck her up, then fuck her for it.
4
Drew
Jesus, I could not get away from the guy. Each time I saw him he was more of a dick, and each time I remembered that night in the back of that van and exactly what that arrogant mouth was capable of. I absolutely was not getting involved with a guy like that, but the public school playboy might just make my time in this shithole more interesting.
Someone squeezed between me and the fryer, giving me a little shove as they did. Cheap perfume cut through the scent of the grease. Of course, I was on shift with Nikki. The two of them could both fuck off and leave me out of whatever shit they had going.
“If you seriously think he wants you,” she said, full of attitude. “You’re stupid.”
“Okay, I’ll indulge this for a second.” I let out a sigh, then turned to face her. “Not that I give a shit, but for the sake of your dignity, maybe you should stop.” I almost pitied the girl because that scene in the school parking lot—he had been awful to her, and yet here she was, still chasing the guy.
“Whatever.” She scooped ice into a Styrofoam cup, then shoved it under one of the dispensers with an acidic smile. “Think you’re something special if you want. I have no problem making your life hell, rich bitch, because, in Dayton, you’re nothing.”
I forced my expression to remain impassive. “Thanks for that imaginative, mean-girl warning.”
The muscles in her jaw tightened. “Seriously, Barrington. I will cut you.” And that might have been the most uncivilized thing I’d ever heard.
I grabbed the headset off the cash register and shoved it over my head. “Clucka-Clucka. Welcome to Frank’s Famous Chicken. Home of the Bucka-Bucka.”
“Hey, can I, uh...” A guy’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Can I get a Big Mac?”
I fidgeted with the microphone while jabbing my employee number over the register’s screen. “Did you read the sign on the way in? This isn’t McDonald's.”
“Jesus. I want some weed, lady.”
Weed? Really? This is what I got for living in a place like this. I inhaled a cleansing breath, trying to find patience. “Does it look like a dispensary? Order fried chicken or move along.”
The speaker cut off, and a car zoomed around the corner of the building. When I went back to the fryer, Nikki smirked at me like she knew something I didn’t. I flipped her off even though she probably would make good on her promise to cut me, but whatever.
I already anticipated that between her and Bellamy, tomorrow would be absolute hell.
At this point, my life was becoming a joke. After my shift, I didn’t even bother going home. What was the point? I was just going to sit in that house alone, watching TV, eating Push-Pops, and feeling sorry for myself. Because after my afternoon at Rockbottom High, I was definitely throwing a pity party.
I pulled up in Olivia Bennett’s drive, then knocked on her front door. She was one of the few girls I’d befriended in my brief stays here during holidays. Without Genevieve here to console me, she was the next best thing. It was kind of shitty of me that I hadn’t contacted her until now, but I’d been wallowing, mourning.
A huge smile shaped her face when she opened the door. “Drew? What are you doing in town?” Her gaze dropped to my Frank’s Famous Chicken shirt. “And why are you in that shirt?”
“I’m back for the rest of the school year. And dad made me get a job.” I left out the part about him making me get a job to pay him back. It was too depressing. I’d done the math, and with the eight dollars I made per hour, it would take me three years to pay back the twenty thousand in tuition Dad said I owed him.
“Ew.” She snarled her lip at the shirt as I stepped inside. “So, wait, are you coming to Barrington?”
I let out a sigh. “Do you have wine?”
Two glasses of wine later, I was sprawled on Olivia’s plush bed, surrounded by a mountain of throw pillows while she stared at me like I’d grown two heads.
“Dayton?” She looked repulsed. “Your dad is sending you to Dayton?”
“Yep.” I sat up and took another swig of wine, but there wasn’t enough wine in the world to drown out the shit show that was my life.
“I…” Her mouth opened, then closed. “You’re going from Black Mountain to Dayton?”
I nodded.
And the look on her face told me I was in for a horror show. “Just don’t go.”
“That’s what he wants, Olivia. He wants me to be a brat about it, so he’s justified in his bullshit.”
“It’s your funeral.” She sat up, pulling her long, blond hair into a ponytail. “Just stay away from the gangs and the girls. And don’t use the bathrooms.”
“Gangs? They have gangs?” Dear God, was I going to leave with a teardrop tattoo on my cheek?
“Yeah. It’s inner-city, babe. There are drug dealers, and if you piss
off the wrong girl, they will absolutely, one hundred percent, come at you with a razor blade. Like, they are going to hate you.” Shaking her head, she took the wine bottle and brought it to her lips. “Like hate.”
I fell back onto the bed, staring at the sparkling chandelier. “Great. Just great.” And I wasn’t even going to tell her about my slutty little rendezvous with the token bad guy.
“Last semester there was a rumor that they found a dead body behind some of the lockers at Dayton. And I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“That’s going to be me,” I said, fighting back tears. “Killed and shoved into a locker.” I needed more wine. “And then I’m going to come back and haunt my dad’s ass.”
I could have dealt with Barrington for two months, where I at least knew Olivia and her brother, Jackson—I could at least blend in. I knew Dayton was bad, but by the sounds of it, I might not survive two months there. There had to be a way out of this.
The next morning I woke to the distinct smell of bacon cooking. I found my father in the kitchen, a frying pan in hand. . My gaze trailed from his graying hair to the ridiculous-looking apron covering his dress shirt and slacks.
“Oh, hey. Good of you to show up,” I mumbled, then went to the coffee machine and started it. “So, have you actually seen that school you decided to send me to? Do you care if I get shanked in a hallway?” It wasn’t even a stretch.
He flipped a piece of meat. “Have you always been this dramatic?”
“Only when my wonderful father sends me to what is basically one step up from reform school.”
“As far as I’m concerned, Dayton is reform school for you before you go to college.”
A flash of anger jolted through me. I’d been kicked out of Black Mountain for “cheating” on a test. Which was bullshit. I’d never cheated on anything in my life.
“I already told you I didn’t cheat on that test,” I snapped.
No Good: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 2
