No Good: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Stevie J. Cole

  No reaction. She completely ignored me, then stopped beside a rundown SUV and opened the driver’s side door.

  Literally couldn’t stand it. “I see Bennett listened to you and didn’t press charges.” Her ignoring me was doing things to me...

  Her chin dropped to her chest, then she slammed the door and marched across the street. “What the hell do you want from me?” She stormed up my drive, coming to halt a few feet in front of me. “You got your blow job.”

  This was fresh rage, and I seriously doubted it was over sucking my dick. And I wanted to know exactly what it was over. “And it was a decent blow job at best.” That was a lie. It was the best motherfucking blow job I had ever had.

  “Well, don’t worry. It won’t be happening again.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m done with you, Bellamy.”

  And that, I wouldn’t stand for. No way in hell would I let this girl be done with me so she could ride off into the sunset with some Barrington prick. Not when she’d put me through pure hell and misery.

  “Nah, baby girl.” I closed the space between us, pressing my sweaty chest against her folded arms. “You’re not done with me.”

  “Why do you care? I hear you have a new Barrington girl to entertain you.”

  I fought the smirk that wanted to rip across my face. She’d only care about a girl if she cared about me—but then she was messing around with Bennett, and the little bliss of victory deflated like a popped balloon. The girl was making me crazy.

  “Bet it would thrill Bennett to know my conquest of other women has his girl all livid with jealousy,” I said as I swept a piece of hair behind her ear. All I could think about was how good her lips felt against mine—how good they felt wrapped around my dick, my hands in her hair. But above all else how much I wanted this—this push and pull between us. I trailed my fingers down the column of her throat, resisting so many things I wanted to do to her. “I guess he’s not quite figured out how to make you come as hard as I do, huh?”

  She finally slapped my hand away. “I didn’t come the second time. Just got used. So, I guess we’re even now.”

  The sting that accompanied that comment was unexpected. Because I didn’t want her to think I’d used her. Last night, I had been pissed and, as much as I hated to admit it, even to myself, jealous. All night I’d watched Bennett touch her, watched her smile at him with her legs wrapped around his neck in that pool, and I had snapped. Had Bennett not interrupted us by banging on that door—I have no idea what may have happened or how this may be different right now. But he had, and I’d defaulted to the part every girl expected me to play—the part of the non-caring asshole so I didn’t look like the one with a weakness.

  “Stop with the bullshit, Drew. I wanted to use you just as much as you wanted to use me.” That was a vague enough response that she could take it however she wanted. One that was safe, and made it seem like I was no more invested in whatever this shit was than her.

  “Like I said, we’re even.”

  Even. Hell no we weren’t even, and I sure as hell wasn’t done with this. I doubted she was, either. “You think blocking my number’s gonna fix this?”

  She ducked her chin to her chest. “I think it’s best if we stay away from each other.”

  Best? Probably. But how often in life did anyone do what was best for them when the shit that would kill them was so much damn fun.

  The spray of the garden hose shot past me to the half-dead rose bush. “What’s the gas station lady doing here?” Arlo ran up beside me.

  “Just leaving. Go water the plants by the house.” My gaze was honed in on Drew. On every breath, each small tic of her jaw. “Now, Arlo.”

  “You’re a butthole!” he huffed before I heard water spray against the siding.

  Drew was still right there because, just like me, I’d bet she hated this just as much as she enjoyed it. There was something about her I couldn't get enough of, and I was pretty sure that made me batshit crazy.

  I leaned down and touched my lips to her ear. “You know damn well we won’t stay away from each other.” I latched onto her arm. “Don’t fool yourself, baby girl.”

  She attempted to pull away, and I yanked her right back, then placed an arm across the small of her back, trapping her small frame against me. “And you know how I know you won’t leave me alone? Because you’re defiant, and you crave this kind of fucking chaos that your daddy’s money can’t buy.”

  Her hands went to my chest. Her lips were close enough that I could taste each uneven breath. Part of me wanted to kiss her while the other part of me wanted to fist her hair and fuck her into willing submission. But before either could happen, a stream of cold water pelted my side.

  My muscles tensed, and Drew jumped back on a scream.

  “Arlo!” When I spun around, he dropped the hose and scurried back a few steps.

  “That’s what Daddy does when the neighbor’s dogs start wrestling in the yard.” His nose wrinkled. “I don’t want you to wrestle with that lady. And I’mma tell Hendrix on you. He told me to tell if a lady that looked like one of the girls from Daddy’s nudey magazines came over. She looks like one of them. ‘Cause she’s pretty and got those big ole’ lips.”

  I frowned. How in the hell had Arlo gotten into Dad’s stash of Playboy, and since when was my little brother selling me out for Hendrix?

  I turned around as Drew climbed into that rundown SUV. The brake lights flashed, then the engine rumbled to life.

  Arlo drew a line through the grass with his toe, then crossed his arms over his chest on a huff. “Why are you trying to wrestle with her, Bubba. You said she’s en-en-en-something. And that they’re the ones that poop on you.”

  I scrubbed a hand over his head, the tension and anger that had been rolling through me quickly disappearing. “Right…”

  “I don’t want her to poop on you.”

  I watched her taillights round the corner. “Yeah. Me neither, buddy.”

  And if there were ever a girl that was going to take a shit on me, it was that one.

  Medusa is at 2112 Barrington Cove.

  The notification came through as I pulled to a stop in front of Arlo’s friend’s house. And that meant she’d unblocked my number. Because she knew I was right—she craved this madness.

  I clicked on the notification, watching that little blue dot move toward Bennett’s address. I knew, one hundred percent, I should disable this stupid app, but some sick part of me refused to let the decent part of me win that battle.

  “See you later, Bubba!” Arlo threw his arms around my neck before hopping out of the car, backpack already on his shoulder.

  “Wait a second!” I climbed over my center console and jogged after him up the sidewalk to the front of his friend’s house.

  “You’re a helicopter brother.” He nudged me, then knocked on the door. “That’s what Jessie says.”

  “Jessie’s a punk…”

  The door cracked, and a woman with round glasses peeked over the chain lock. “Oh, Arlo. It’s you.” The door closed so she could unfasten the lock. And the second it swung open again, Arlo sprinted inside, tackling his friend to the carpet.

  “I’ll pick him up at ten tomorrow?”

  She nodded. “That’s perfect. Have a good night.” She went to close the door, but I slapped a palm over it.

  “He’s allergic to Goldfish. So, no cheese crackers or cheese puffs.”

  She smiled. “Okay.”

  Then I went back to the car and checked my phone again. Drew was still at Jackson’s. I told myself it didn’t matter. That if she was that much of a—whatever—to screw around with me then go back to Jackson, that none of it mattered. She was just like any other girl I’d ever been with.

  But by the time I pulled up to Hendrix’s house, I knew that was a lie. Because I’d checked that app two more times. And three hours later, Hendrix, Wolf, and I had Jackson hogtied in the back of Wolf’s truck, Special Delivery scribbled across his face along with a master
piece of dicks drawn in Sharpie over his cheeks.

  21

  Drew

  It was after midnight when I stumbled through my backyard and dodged the edge of the pool. I’d snuck out of the house and over to Olivia’s for another party—upon her insistence. Besides, what kind of rebel child would I be if I didn’t climb out my bedroom window to go and get drunk while I was grounded? I stopped below my bedroom balcony, looking up and debating how easy it would be to scale the trellis with alcohol buzzing through my veins.

  I placed my hand through one of the open diamonds, and just when I was about to attempt scaling it, my phone vibrated in my bra.

  Dickhead: Have fun at your boyfriend’s house?

  I could practically feel the jealousy oozing through his words, and I liked it far too much. People only got jealous over things they wanted, right? Correction, he was jealous because he wanted to screw me, and he thought Jackson already had. Don’t get it twisted, Drew.

  Me: Fuck you, Bellamy

  I texted him back, which meant he’d now know I had unblocked him. But whatever. And why had I unblocked him? Because I’d sat in Olivia’s house, replaying the previous night on a loop and getting stuck on the same sentence over and over again. The shittiest part about this story, is that I fucking liked you. At the time, I couldn’t see past that blonde, but tonight I’d seen her, all over another guy. And then I felt guilty for allowing Bellamy to think I was dating Jackson.

  Guilt was for pussies, though, because he kissed her freaking forehead! Thankfully, I had remembered that earlier in the night, which was what had kept me from doing something stupid, like messaging him first.

  Dickhead: You looked angry walking home, baby girl. What’s the matter? Bennett not doing it for you?

  How did he know I had walked home…I chose to ignore the comment about Bennett.

  Me: Are you stalking me now?

  Dickhead: Of course.

  Me: You do realize this is creepy.

  Dickhead: Abso-fucking-lutely.

  Me: The first step is admitting you have a problem.

  I tucked the phone away and climbed the trellis, practically falling over my window ledge into my room. After I changed into my pajamas, I took my phone, went downstairs for a late-night Push-Pop, and then settled on the couch to watch TV.

  Dickhead: I left a present for you on your front porch.

  Seconds later, a horn blared from the driveway. I went into the foyer and opened the front door, dropping what was left of my Push-Pop when I found Jackson unconscious and laid out across the porch with dicks drawn all over his face. A nasty bruise marred his cheek, reminding me of last night’s shitshow, and to top it off, he was in nothing but watermelon-green bikini bottoms.

  My jaw tensed as I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed the dickhead’s number. This was over the line. It hadn’t finished ringing the first time before he answered.

  “Miss me, baby girl?”

  “Why is Jackson on my porch?” I stared down at Jackson, irritation bubbling through my buzz. Hadn’t Bellamy done enough to the guy last night? Now, this?

  “Don’t know, Drew. Why is he on your porch?” A series of cackles rang through the line.

  “You can’t just kidnap someone.”

  “Kidnap is a strong word. I simply transported him from his pool deck to your front door.”

  God, I hated him. “Well, come back and get him.”

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  “He’s unconscious, and he weighs a ton.” I glanced around the dark yard. “What am I supposed to do? Just leave him here?”

  “You’re asking me like I care what happens to him…”

  “You’re an asshole,” I said, then hung up, my face heating with annoyance.

  I knelt beside Jackson and shook him, but he didn’t budge, so I shook him again. All he did was suck in a deep breath, then roll onto his side. There was no way I was getting him off my porch. Bellamy wasn’t coming back, so I called Olivia.

  Noise from the party in the background came over the line before slurred out a “What’s up?”

  “Your brother is on my porch. In bikini bottoms.”

  “That’s amazing.” She snorted. “Take a picture and send it to me.”

  Like hell I was taking a picture of him in this state. “Are you going to get some people together and come get him? I can’t move him.”

  “Yeah. In a minute. But send me the picture first so I can prepare myself.”

  “Just come get him.” I hung up—without taking a picture. I owed Jackson a little dignity in his hour of need.

  I went inside and snagged a throw pillow and blanket from the living room, then covered up Jackson. Then I stood on the porch for a few minutes, staring down the dark street, hoping Olivia would hurry the hell up.

  Me: Are you coming?

  Olivia: Give me 20 minutes.

  Rolling my eyes, I went back inside. I wasn’t waiting on the porch for twenty more minutes. I lay down on the sofa and went back to my movie, passing out well before the guy got the girl.

  “Drucella!”

  I half opened my eyes on a groan. Bright morning sunshine spilled through the living room windows. That, coupled with the taste of Grand Marnier coating my tongue and the way my father glared down at me, made me feel sick.

  “Why, in God’s name, is there a young man on the porch in women’s underwear, with male genitals drawn all over his face, Drew?”

  Damn it, Olivia never came and got him? “No idea. Probably a hobo.”

  His eyes narrowed. “It looks like Nathaniel Bennett’s son. Not a hobo.”

  “Well, did he recently become homeless?” I yanked at the blanket, then attempted to roll over to escape the sunlight.

  “Drucella Analise Morgan!” I cringed at my full, godawful name. “Go wake him up. Now.”

  “Fine.” I groaned, then rolled off the couch and staggered to the door. Sure enough, Jackson was right where I’d left him. Curled into the fetal position, snoring, with the blanket tangled around his legs.

  I was annoyed as all hell at Bellamy for this. Jackson hadn’t done anything to deserve this. The guy was still sporting a bruise from Friday night for fuck’s sake.

  I nudged him with my foot, and he choked back a breath before his eyes snapped open. Blinking, he sat up and grabbed his head while he glanced around at my porch, then down at his crotch. “What the… Why am I here?”

  “Not sure.” I could have just said it was Bellamy, but I didn’t need any more bad blood between the three of us than there already was. “I did call Olivia to come to get you…”

  With reddening cheeks, he stumbled to his feet. “Did your little fuck buddy do this?” His angry gaze met mine.

  “He’s not my fuck buddy. Jackson, I’m sorry I—”

  “Save it, Drew. I don’t give a shit.” Then he turned and walked off, crossing the lawn as the sprinklers cut on.

  I stood on my porch, hating that this was the state of things. Jackson and Olivia had always been nice to me and were my only friends when I’d been forced to visit Dad over various holidays. And now Jackson hated me.

  I had no control over Bellamy, but I knew I was to blame for this—because I had let him believe Jackson was my boyfriend. Not that it should have warranted a reaction. Bellamy and I weren’t together, and he was all over some blonde. Then again, said blonde did trigger the homicidal rage that led me to destroy his car. So, I guessed I was a hypocrite. If I made him even half as crazy as he made me, this was a problem.

  One I really needed to walk away from.

  22

  Bellamy

  Monday morning, students crowded the halls, cramming their backpacks inside their lockers. I stopped in the middle of the hallway when I saw Drew standing at hers. She was supposed to be suspended. For a week. Yet, there she was, yanking books out of her locker before slamming the metal door. I shouldered through the group of cheerleaders trying to sell their stupid spirit ribbons. And she must have felt me co
ming because I was about two feet behind her when she lifted her middle finger. “Leave me alone,” she said.

  “So that’s where the line is, huh? Not getting you fired. Not ruining your car. But dropping your passed-out boyfriend onto your porch in a bikini?”

  She stopped in the middle of the hall and whipped around to face me, forcing students to go around us. “The line was about three miles back. Jackson is not my boyfriend, so just leave him out of it, Bellamy."

  Not her boyfriend. Right. So, he was just a fuck buddy because she was at his house more than her own. “The guy you’re fucking then.”

  “I just said, he’s not my boyfriend!”

  “I’m not your boyfriend, either, but I came on your face Friday night, didn’t I?” And as shit as I felt for saying that, I wanted her anger because it told me I meant something to her.

  “And made sure everyone knew about it." Students poured around us as she glared at me. “Is that what you do to your Barrington whores? Did you come on Blondie later that night, too?”

  I bit back the smile, then stoked the flames. “You envision that, baby girl?” I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and she jerked away from my touch. “Me coming all over her while her nails raked down my spine?”

  She went to walk off, and I grabbed her arm, bringing her to an abrupt halt in the middle of the packed corridor. Her jaw clenched before she slapped her palm against my chest. “Fuck you, Bellamy. Leave Jackson alone.”

  And the anger in her tone—I didn’t like. It was over him, and I only wanted that for me. “I’ll leave Bennett alone when you leave him alone.” Because I didn’t trust that he wouldn't hurt her.

  The air crackled with static electricity, our gazes locked for long moments before Drew finally yanked free of my hold and stormed off, shoving her way through the crowded hallway.

  We ignored each other at lunch and every time we passed in the hall. But when she fell into the chair beside me in biology, her perfume caught in the air, and I couldn't control my thoughts. Her. Me. Bennett’s bed. “Let me guess. Daddy got you out of your suspension?”