The memory of that night snuck in, uninvited. My blood pressure immediately spiked.
Did I want to talk? Not really, but I had no idea how much she knew, and I didn’t want her to think I was the kind of guy who would just beat up my old man--even if I was the kind of guy who would break into her house and destroy shit with a baseball bat.
“He deserved it, Drew. He really fucking deserved it.”
She sat up and swung her legs over my thigh, then brushed her fingers over my cheek. “I don’t think you’d hurt someone unless they deserved it.”
I couldn't help but laugh at that shit. “I broke into your house with a baseball bat and destroyed it.”
“Well, I did get you arrested. Which, by the way, I’m sorry about.”
“And I’m sorry I got you fired.” I swept her hair from her face. “God, that word is like thorns in my throat.”
“My point is, you didn’t hurt me.”
“You’re a girl.”
“In a place like Dayton, does it matter?”
“Shit like that should always matter.”
A small smile touched her lips. “See, you’re like a knight in thrift shop armor.”
“Nah, baby girl. I’m a villain who just wants the princess.”
“Me? Oh, no, I’m the evil queen.”
I pulled her into my lap, kissing her. “Even better.”
“Ewww! Why would you do that?” Arlo whined from the side of the pool. “That’s the part in movies you're supposed to cover your eyes for.”
“Close your eyes if you don’t wanna see it.” I kissed her harder. When she went to pull away, I squeezed her hips.
“We’re going to scar the kid.”
“He’s looked at my dad’s Playboys. He’s fine.”
35
Drew
The date circled on the calendar mocked me when I reached for the milk. What better way to start out my eighteenth birthday, than eating cereal in the kitchen--Alone?
My dad still wasn’t home.
No texts or missed calls--but it was only seven.
He’d probably taken an early flight so he could be home by the time I got back from school. God, why did I care? I didn’t even like the man.
The doorbell rang and I tossed my bowl in the sink, then went to answer it.
A man with a clipboard stood on the threshold while a noisy trailer truck backed up to the drive. “Drucella Morgan?” he said, making checks on his paper.
“Yes.”
“Just need you to sign.” He passed the clipboard to me.
After I’d scribbled my signature over a dotted line, he passed me a set of keys, along with an envelope. Then he went to the truck and lifted the rolling door while I opened the letter:
My Darling Daughter,
Happy eighteenth birthday, sweetie. I hope you like the car. Love you!
Bisous,
Irina x
A ramp lowered to the asphalt, and a few minutes later, a baby pink Porsche, with a massive white bow stuck to the hood, reversed out.
The car probably cost a small fortune. In baby pink. God, I hated that color.
Gifts were how Irina showed her affection--because I’d never quite use the word love. Most kids would give their right arm for that car, but for me, it was nothing but a reminder of my absent parents. At least my mom had remembered. My dad couldn’t even manage a simple message before his first meeting.
I closed the door, typed out a thank you text to my mom, then finished getting ready for school and went to wait on the porch for Nora.
Her car pulled in front of my house. I could see her sitting behind the wheel, gawking at the pink Barbie car before I reached the drive. When I got in, she let out a low whistle. “Nice car.”
“Thanks. My mom sent it.” I intentionally left out the “for my birthday” part. I didn’t want the attention. Plus, my own father couldn't be bothered with it, why should anyone else? It was just another day anyway, it didn’t matter.
The entire drive to school, I kept refreshing my phone to check for a text. And every time nothing popped up, I felt worse. I cared, and I didn’t want to.
By the time we pulled up to Dayton my mood was sour.
I swear the only thing that made this school bearable was Bellamy. Even when we were enemies, he at least made it exciting, and his absence only added to my bleak outlook today.
Come lunch, there was still no text from my dad, but at least Genevieve messaged me Happy Birthday.
I grabbed my shitty lunch and didn’t even bother with a Push-Pop, because all that was left was cherry, and that was worse than grape. On a huff, I tossed my tray to the table and sank to the stool beside Nora.
“You okay?” she asked, picking over her salad. “You seem mad or something.”
“I’m fine.” I unwrapped my sandwich then lifted the bun to inspect the meat.
“Why do you keep staring at Hendrix, Diane?” Nora nudged me in the ribs. “She’s like ogling him.”
“I am not!”
Nora started grilling Diane, her questioning coming to an abrupt halt when a rainbow sherbet Push-Pop dropped in front of me.
“Happy Birthday, baby girl,” Bellamy whispered in my ear, low enough no one else could have heard. His warm breath tickled my skin as his lips pressed to my throat. Every nerve ending lit up, and there it was--the real reason I missed him. He wasn’t just exciting. He set my soul on fire and filled the cold void that I hadn’t even realized lingered within me until him.
Before I could thank him, he was on his way back to his table.
“Aw.” Diane sighed. “He gave you a Push-Pop!”
“He probably stole it from a freshman.” Nora shook her head.
Probably.
My phone buzzed on the table and a text ribbon popped up at the top of the screen: Dickhead: And don’t think part of that gift isn’t selfish. I like to watch you suck it.
I glanced across the cafeteria. Bellamy’s attention was aimed directly at me, that smirk playing over his lips. I didn’t care if it was selfish. I had no idea how he knew it was my birthday, but it didn’t matter, because he did and he remembered. All while I knew he was dealing with his own problems. It made my heart do a pathetic little cough.
Me: Thank you
When I got home from school, a package from Genevieve waited on my porch.
I took the box inside and untied the bright, purple ribbon, pulling out a slut-red dress.
A note fluttered to the floor, Genevieve’s perfect handwriting scrawled across it wishing me a happy birthday. And still not a word from my dad.
I managed to hold it together until it was nine o’clock at night and I sat, alone in the living room, staring at the text.
Me: Hey
Dad: I’m at a business dinner. Is it important?
No, apparently, I wasn’t important. Not like I didn’t already know that though.
Rejection sunk in deep, like a blade wedged between my ribs, stilting my breaths, and I gave in to tears. Tears that I hated to spill over him. Tears he didn’t deserve.
Swallowing hard, I pulled myself together and shoved my emotions down into that dark little hole where Black Mountain had taught me to hide them.
I typed out a text to Bellamy, then stopped halfway through and deleted it.
I was down and in need. A text now would be me starting to rely on him, and that was a slippery slope I couldn’t afford to go down. Not with a guy like Bellamy--Not with a guy I felt like I’d already lost control with.
I was used to having no one, and it was best to keep it that way for the next few weeks until Barrington and Dayton were distant memories.
So instead of inviting him over, I poured a glass of wine, necked it, and sent a text to Nora and Diane.
Me: Party at mine tonight. Invite everyone. Free drinks and a pool.
Screw my dad.
36
Bellamy
Hendrix: You going?
Wolf: He’s going.
&
nbsp; She hadn’t invited me. She hadn’t invited anyone--Nora had. That threw me for a loop.
Nora couldn’t be throwing a surprise birthday party at Drew’s house, and there was no way her asshole dad would let this many people come over--especially not the likes of people from Dayton so... What the hell was going on?
Hendrix: One of you dickwads pick me up. Free drinks. I’m getting hammered. Then I’m going to be doing the hammering...
Wolf: Bell’s gonna be hammering Paris Hilton
Cars lined the street when I pulled in front of Drew’s house. Every window was lit up.
Me: Might. Don’t know
I sent the text to the guys, then stuffed my phone in my pocket, and shimmied over the center console and started up her drive.
Landscape lighting gleaned over the side of a pink Porsche with a ridiculous white bow on the hood. Porsche or not, that thing was hideous and I absolutely could not see Drew driving it.
Loud music poured through the open door, and I followed the hum of conversation into the kitchen. There were no balloons, no streamers, nothing that would indicate it was a birthday celebration.
Nora and Diane stood at the counter, taking shots while a group of football players cheered them on.
The second Nora slammed her shot glass down, her gaze locked with mine. “Oh. Yay. You came.”
She staggered over to me and dug a finger into my shoulder. The liquor must have been doing a number on her. “What exactly are you trying to do with my friend?” she asked.
“Your friend?”
“Yeah. My friend.” She crossed her arms over her chest and popped her hip to the side. “The one you’re...dating.”
“Ah. That friend.”
“Don’t be you, Bellamy.”
I snagged a bottle of beer from an ice bucket on the table. Some expensive shit imported from Belgium. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” I said.
“Don’t break her heart.”
I stared at Nora for a moment. I didn’t believe for one second I was in a position to break Drew’s heart...
“Oh my God.” She groaned. “If Drew ends up like all your other cast-offs, crying in a bathroom over your shitty ass, I will cut you myself.” She gave me one final stare down, then sauntered off.
If there were girls in the Dayton restrooms shedding tears over me, that was due to their own ridiculous assumptions. Because I had never given a girl reason to believe they meant anything.
Drew, on the other hand, was quickly becoming everything to me, and there was no way in hell I’d give her a reason to cry.
I shouldered through the crowd and outside to the deck.
One of the underclassmen, hoisted himself onto the railing, butt-ass naked. His foot hit one of the concrete planters. It toppled to the pavement below and shattered before he cannonballed into the pool on a scream.
Kids from Dayton wouldn’t consider something a party unless shit was broken and something had been set on fire. Drew’s house was going to be trashed before the end of the night.
A chorus of cheers erupted from the side of the porch, catching my attention. People raised their cups above their heads as Drew climbed onto the patio table in a skin-tight, red dress, the low-cut neckline barely covering her nipples.
She lifted a bottle of liquor above her head while her hips moved in beat with the music. When the chorus picked up, she busted out moves that would have put a Vegas Showgirl to shame.
I shifted through the crowd, anger sparking in my chest at the few guys staring a little too hard at her.
Drew shimmied to the left and one side of the table bucked up, throwing her off, and right into the arms of a Dayton football player. I wanted to kill him. I shoved people out of the way and grabbed her arm, snatching her away from him.
“The fuck are you doing?” I said, glaring at him.
He held up his hands, waving an invisible white flag, before he quickly disappeared amongst the other party-goers.
“Bellamy! You’re here.” Drew stroked my face with sloppy movements. She was shit faced. On her birthday. That I had a feeling her dad had forgotten.
This probably wasn’t going to end well.
“Yeah. Thanks for the invite.”
“I told Nora to invite everyone.”
“I’m not Nora’s--” And I stopped before the word boyfriend came out.
“Don’t be sad.” She swayed on her feet, then tipped her bottle back with a slosh.
I took the liquor, holding it up to the porch light. The damn thing was almost empty. “I think you’ve had enough.” Shaking her ass with her tits out. She’d absolutely had more than enough.
She gave me a once over while chewing at her lip. “I really haven’t had enough of you.” Then she grabbed my shirt and yanked me close. “Wanna come fuck me on my dad’s desk?”
The idea of pounding away at her on her dad’s desk would be impossible to turn down--if she weren’t drunk.
She laced her fingers through mine and led me into the house, straight through the crowded kitchen and into his office.
She closed the door and I stared at the paper-covered desk at the back of the room, my dick swelling at the idea of bending her over it.
The lock clicked. Her dress clung to every dip and curve as she crossed the room, and that bright red lipstick just begged to be smeared. And even though I’d never been so attracted to a girl in my life, I could not screw her while she was this drunk, and if she touched me…
She moved closer. “You look hot.”
“And you look drunk.”
Then she shoved me hard enough that I stumbled back onto the desk. “Not that drunk,” she said, placing her hands on either side of my thighs as she climbed up and straddled me.
“Drew…”
The friction of her grinding against me was too damn much to stand.
She nipped at my ear, then whispered, “I want your dick in my pussy.”
Those words went straight to my dick, like an adrenaline shot, and when she fisted my hair, a switch flipped. I couldn’t not touch her any longer.
I gripped her bare thighs and stood, wrapping her legs wrapping around me. The heat of her bled through my jeans and I was two seconds away from losing the last bit of control I was somehow clinging to.
“Say it,” she breathed, her lips at my throat as she tugged my hair. “Ask me if I’m wet for you.”
This shit was just too much. I turned around and slammed her onto the desk. “I know you fucking are.”
Papers crumpled, stacks of files toppled to the floor. And then it was nothing but hands in hair and her fingers fumbling for my belt.
My lips were on her throat, the swells of her exposed tits, any piece of bare skin I could get to. I’d wanted to bury myself in her for so damn long, but what made it worse, I wanted more than just this now. I wanted her.
I pulled her thong down her legs, tossing it to the side of the room as she unfastened my jeans.
“God, I fucking want you,” I groaned, biting her neck.
“Yeah, you do.”
Her fingers wrapped around my dick, and that touch alone was almost enough to make me come. And through the lust-filled haze, my conscience ate away at me. I could not fuck her when she was this drunk.
“Do you have a condom?” she asked.
I bit back a groan as she worked her tight fist over my shaft. “I’m not fucking you when you’re shitfaced.”
“I’d fuck you sober, anyway.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
She tugged my dick closer to her bare pussy, and my jaw set. This was a form of temptation akin to the inner circle of hell. And drunk, she was the devil.
“I’m not fucking you tonight, baby girl.”
I slipped my hand between her legs, and holy shit, was she wet. It took all of thirty seconds before she tightened around my fingers. That was enough to send me hurtling over the edge.
I sank my teeth into her shoulder on a groan, coming in her hand. And when I pulled
away, she slipped her fingers between her lips and sucked me off.
“You’re seriously trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Couldn’t fuck you if I did that, could I?” She smirked, then hopped off the desk and snatched a bottle of liquor on her way out of the office.
She was absolutely going to kill me...
An hour later, she could barely walk, which was why I was carting her inebriated ass up the stairs to her room.
I closed the door, and just when I was about to put her on the bed, she swallowed. Then swallowed again, focusing on a spot on the wall.
“Are you gonna be sick?” I asked.
She nodded, and I hurried across the room to the bathroom.
“Oh…” She heaved.
“No. Wait! Wait….”
The second I placed her in front of the toilet, she puked.
“I told you, you were gonna throw up.”
She lifted her middle finger and leaned farther over the bowl.
I pulled her hair away from her face to keep the vomit out of it, and she made a weak attempt to swat me away.
“Go...away.”
“And leave you in here to pass out in puke? Nah…”
She groaned, threw up some more, then flushed the toilet and slumped against the tiled wall. “This is the worst birthday ever.” She wiped at the mascara streaking her cheek. “And now you’re watching me puke.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face before dropping to the floor beside her. “It’s no big deal.”
“He forgot.” She traced a finger along the grout in the tile, then rested her head on my shoulder, and something in my chest went tight.
“Yeah. Well, he’s an asshole.”
“I shouldn’t even care.”
“But you do. And that’s fine.” I knew that to be true. I hated my dad’s ass, but over the years, I’d still found myself trying to make him proud. Trying to get a moment of attention. “Come on, you should go to bed.”
I pushed up, helping her to her feet before I grabbed the purple toothbrush I figured was hers, pumped toothpaste on it, then passed it to her and I left her to it.
No Good: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 22
