by Lexi Bissen
There is a reason I only have one close friend. Sure, I had a lot of people I partied and hung out with, but River was the only constant. I wouldn’t share anything personal with anyone else. I was never sure who I could trust not to go to the media with some bullshit so they could get their five minutes of fame.
River is by best friend. He and his mom, Mary, are the only constants in my life and my two biggest supporters. River’s dad is the lead singer in Devil’s Angels, so he knows all about the struggles of having a rock star for a parent. Luckily for him, he has one hell of a mother. Momma Mary never wanted River to be a part of his dad’s lifestyle. To be fair, his dad was pretty shitty at being a dad.
After my arrest, Momma told my dad she wasn’t having it with me living with my mom, the least responsible parent. River and Momma set me on the right track—especially River. After my court hearing, River gave me four pieces of advice, which, at the time, I thought were complete horseshit. Once I cooled off from the anger of having to move to BFE, I thought about what he said and realized he’s right. After all, he does have his own life in order. He’s in college working on his design degree to live out his dream of owning a tattoo shop.
Do not give up. No matter how tempting drugs and alcohol are, do not give in.
You are not your mother, don’t let yourself think you are.
Every girl will be throwing themselves at Aaron Mitchell’s son. Don’t give yourself to those gold-diggers. They just want to use your name. Wait for the girl who stops you in your tracks and doesn’t fall all over the Mitchell name.
Listen to your uncle. There’s a reason the judge gave you the option to live there.
I keep those four things with me to remind myself I want more out of life. I quit the partying scene shortly after my court hearing. There was no point anyway. Judge Walters wouldn’t give me a second change if I were to end up back in his courtroom. So, I spent the rest of my summer hanging with River and some of our closer friends and denied all the girls who practically bent over for me. The one chick who caught my attention was Ronnie.
Ronnie Hamilton.
When I saw her, it was unlike anything before. She stood out in the best way possible. I looked at her and it was like no one else was around. I knew she was what River meant when he said wait for that one girl. The guy is a hopeless romantic and always hated that I slept around and used women. I called bullshit, but this Ronnie chick did stop me.
Girls I’ve known only looked at me for one thing: status. Even the ones who came from wealthy families. They all wanted to be the one to tame the wild, reckless Gibson Mitchell—the guy who makes promises to women to get them into bed and then leaves the moment he removes the condom. I’ve always been the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type, but River’s advice is to change that part of myself. And Ronnie seems like a cool person. She hasn’t ogled me with dollar signs in her eyes like other girls. I did catch her staring some—or a lot—when we first met, but now she seems like she’s trying to avoid looking at me in general.
I look out the window as we turn onto a small dirt road leading to a two story, beat up farmhouse. Must be Allen’s place. Great. That means Ronnie and I have to drive to my uncle’s house alone…when she seems like she’s uncomfortable with me around. This should be fun.
The truck inches up to the front of the house and puts it in park. Allen starts to collect his things and then turns to look back at me. “It was lovely meeting you, Gibby, but this is where I must leave you all. Hope you have a nice night and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He faces Ronnie, kisses her cheek, and whispers something in her ear. She clutches his arm like she’s trying to get him to stay, but he shrugs her off and hops out of the car, waving to both of us. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
Ronnie groans and then lays her head on the steering wheel, confirming my suspicion of whether or not she wants me in this car.
Without lifting her head from the steering wheel, she says, “I am not driving you to your house while you’re in the backseat like I’m some chauffer or something.”
“I wasn’t planning on sitting back here, princess. You seem a little nervous about being alone with me, so I was giving you a second to yourself,” I say while unbuckling my seatbelt.
“Whatever,” she replies, scrunching up her nose. I can’t help but smile, because damn, who knew nose scrunching could be a turn on.
I make my way to the passenger seat, taking my sweet time. After getting the seat belt all set up, I catch Ronnie looking at me right before she whips her head around and quickly puts the truck in drive.
“Did you like what you saw?” I ask once we are back on the main road.
She gives me a quick glance, but otherwise keeps her eyes on the road. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you know, back there when you were checking me out.” I relax back in the seat to get comfortable. “Did you get a chance to take it all in? Or was that not enough time for you?” Leaning toward her some, I smirk. “I know there’s a lot to see here. We could pull over and I could do a little twirl while you stare if you want. I could even take my shirt off. There’s a lot under here you wouldn’t want to miss,” I say, my tone casual.
Ronnie tightens her fists around the steering wheel and shoots me a glare. “You’re crazy. I wasn’t checking you out. Don’t get a big head or anything.”
I let out a laugh. “Big head? You were obviously checking me out. I saw you looking at all of this with interest. Don’t worry, I’ve checked you out plenty today. It’s only fair.”
The truck jerks, causing me to grab of the “oh shit” handle. Ronnie grips the steering wheel tight and narrows her eyes at me. “You were checking me out? You perv,” she says.
“It’s called being a guy. Naturally, our eyes drift toward hot women. Hence, me checking you out,” I explain, giving her a wink before she turns back to the road.
“Being a guy isn’t an excuse for being a perv,” she scoffs. “Even if you were checking me out, which you should not be doing, the pervy part comes from you telling me about it. Normal people don’t announce that kind of stuff.”
“Would you rather me look at you from afar like a stalker? I’m an upfront person. This is me being upfront with you.”
“Ugh, whatever. Don’t check me out anymore,” she huffs out.
Like that’s going to happen. “Sorry, princess, but when I see a hot chick, I’ll look. It’s a natural instinct for guy.”
We pull up to my uncle’s house and I’m a little disappointed. I like getting Ronnie all riled up. She’s cute when she’s pissed.
Ronnie puts the car in park when we reach my uncle’s driveway. “Well, as much fun as this has been, I believe this is where we have to part,” she says, not seeming the least bit upset.
I collect my bag by me feet and lean in close to Ronnie, who is avoiding looking at me. “See you tomorrow, princess,” I say before exiting the truck.
Maybe moving to Freedom won’t be such a bad thing after all.
The drive back to my house felt like hours when it was really only minutes. Gibson and his flirty talk frustrated me. I’ve seen some of the guys at school try to check me out when they think no one notices, but this is the first time a guy has messed with me like that about it. Most of the time, it’s Sean’s friends doing it because they like to piss off my brother. What I don’t like about Gibson’s flirting is the effect it has on me. I’ve never gotten nervous around a guy before, but when he looks at me, I get a fluttering in the pit of my stomach and I don’t know what it means. It must be because he’s new. Yeah, that’s it. All the other guys I’ve known most of my life and Gibson is something different. This new feeling makes staying away from him that much more of a better idea.
The moment I open the door to my house, the smell of lasagna hits me. My mom is like Martha Stewart. Every night, we have a home cooked meal waiting for us on the table. Tonight happens to be my favorite.
I pass the stairs and make my way into the kitch
en, dumping my backpack onto one of the mismatched chairs at our table. Mom turns around from the oven where she’s preparing some garlic bread and flashes me a bright smile. “Hi, sweetie. How did your first day go?”
I walk up to the fridge, grab a water bottle, and chug half of it before I respond. “It was okay. Nothing different than every other year. New teachers and new classes.” She asks me this same question every first day, like something amazing is going to happen. Well, I guess meeting Gibson would have been a good answer, but I don’t want to get into that with her.
“You have to give me a little more than that, honey. Do you have any classes with Allen? Or Sean? Oh, do you have science with your dad? I know Mr. Henry got a senior class this year, so I wasn’t sure if you had him or your father.”
I didn’t have daddy as my teacher—thank God. Science was one of the classes I had with Gibson. I wouldn’t have been too fond of trying not to stare at the new student with my father in the same room. “Nope. I got Mr. Fuller. I think Sean has daddy, though. And yes, Allen is in most of my classes. I have a couple with Sean, too.”
“Well, that’s nice. Mr. Fuller was excited to be teaching seniors this year. Should be a fun class.”
As soon as Mom finishes talking, Sean walks into the house with Rodger. Even though Sean and I share the truck, he usually catches rides with Rodger. Rodger’s house is right down the street from ours, but he’s here most of the time, or they at Rodger’s. They have a major bromance going on.
Sean walks right up to Mom and kisses her on the cheek. “Hey, Momma, what are you making?”
She swats his hand away when he tries to reach for a piece of the bread. “This is dinner. Get your grubby hands out of it.” She turns and smiles at Rodger, who is standing by the table. “I assume you’re staying for supper, Rodger?” Like she doesn’t already know the answer.
“Of course, Momma H. Like I would pass up some of you homemade cooking.” He takes a seat in the chair beside me, a little too close.
Mom goes back to prepping the garlic bread while Sean grabs two Gatorades from the fridge and tosses one to Rodger.
“So, boys, how was your first day?” she asks.
After taking a huge gulp of his dink, Sean says, “It was pretty good. Dad tried to be all tough with the class, but we knew he wasn’t serious. I think he likes to put on this hard-ass teacher act but forgets most of the kids grew up knowing him.”
Mom shakes her head and lets out a slight laugh. “Your father is the biggest softy I know. I don’t understand why he keeps trying to convince his students otherwise.” She turns around and swats Sean with the towel she was keeping over her shoulder. “And watch that mouth of yours. I didn’t raise you to speak like that.” He’s always getting into trouble cursing around her.
“I have no clue what you guys are talking about. Mr. Hamilton is the scariest person I know. The whole team is terrified of him,” Rodger says.
Momma finishes up the last bit of the garlic bread then turns to look at Rodger. “Don’t worry about him, honey. He may be hard on the football team, but he only acts like that to get you guys to work harder.”
Dad’s footsteps are loud as he comes through the front door and heads straight into the kitchen, right to my mom. He plants a long kiss on her lips before acknowledging any of us.
The boys turn away, looking disgusted by my parents’ display of affection, but I don’t. I watch them, feeling the love they have for each other. That is what I want—to be so in love with someone, you’re desperate to see them after a long day. My parents act like they are still in the honeymoon stage of their relationship. Sometimes it’s annoying, like when you have a friend over and your parents are acting like horny teenagers, but most of the time, it makes me yearn for what they have.
After they break apart, my father looks down at my mom. “How was your day, sweetheart?”
She flashes a big smile. “It was good. Got the house cleaned up and some of the girls and I started getting ideas together for the football fundraiser.”
He gives her a small peck on the lips. “You’ll put on the best fundraiser ever. You always do.” He turns to look at the boys and me, as if he now realizes we were in the room. “Hey, kids. How was your first day?”
“Fine,” the three of us say at the same time.
Daddy raises his eyebrows and glances between us. “That’s all you guy have? Fine?”
Momma nudges him away and heads to the fridge to get everything to prepare a salad. “Don’t worry, honey, that’s about all I got out of Ronnie when she got home.”
“Did any of you meet the new boy?” Dad asks.
I avoid eye contact with all of them.
Rodger is the first to speak up. “Yeah, we have English with him. He’s even at our table.”
Dad’s eyebrows raise at Rodger’s statement. “Oh, really? Did any of you talk to him?”
“Not really.” Rodger shrugs before cutting his eyes to me and smirking. This can’t be good. “Ronnie may know a little more about him. He seemed a little…fixated on her.” The jackass.
Dad lifts his eyebrow at me, trying to look intimidating. “You talked to this young man, Ronnie?”
“Yes, Daddy. I talked to the new student. What’s the big deal?” I ask.
He crosses his large arms over his chest. “No big deal, but from what I hear, this kid is trouble.”
Rodger huffs. “Look at him. The guy’s covered in tattoos and piercings. How old is he anyway? Twenty-five?”
“He’s nineteen,” I say without thinking.
All eyes shoot to me and I squirm a little in my seat, wishing I could disappear. “So, you actually talked to him? I didn’t see you guys swapping life stories while we were in class,” Sean says, joining into this little interrogation with a raised eyebrow.
“Guys, he’s a student, just like the rest of us. He’s not some criminal or anything. So, because someone has tattoos, that instantly makes you not like them? You don’t know if anything you’ve read is even factual,” I say, feeling the need to defend Gibson for some reason.
“Oh, he is definitely bad news. Do you know who his father is, Ronnie?” Daddy asks.
“Yes. Well, not really. Gibson just said he was in some band.” A rock band, which probably isn’t a good thing.
“He’s in the band Devil’s Angels, Ronnie. Devil’s Angels! You’re not just chitchatting with a regular student. This kids grew up around drugs and partying. I don’t want you anywhere near him, you understand me?” he says, like I really have a choice in the manner.
“What’s so wrong with that band? Just because he comes from one of them doesn’t mean he’s like that.” By his red face and the small vein in his forehead, I can already tell I asked the wrong question. I wonder if this is what Rodger was talking about when he said he’s scared of Daddy.
“Devil’s Angels, young lady, is a band full of drug using, alcohol abusing, walking sexual diseases. I’m sure the son of one of them is just the same. He probably sees an innocent, young southern girl he can have fun with while he’s here. Well, not my daughter. He can try to get in the pants of some other girl.”
“Daddy!” “Michael!” Momma and I yell at the same time.
“Why don’t you kids go get washed up for dinner. I need to have a word with your father,” Momma says as she shoos us away.
The three of us grab our bags and make our way upstairs. Sean heads straight to his room, shouting to Rodger that he’s starting up the X-Box. I head to my room and go to shut the door when someone pushes me out of the way, making room for them to come in.
Rodger.
“We need to talk,” is the first thing he says after he slowly closes the door, making sure it doesn’t make any noise.
I cross my arms over my chest and Rodger’s gaze drops to the top of my tank top. Bad idea. I uncross them and shove my arms into the back pockets of my jeans.
“Why would we need to talk?” I ask, confused.
“I saw that G
ibson guy get into your truck after school,” he says, sounding defensive.
“Okay…? Did you just come into my room to inform me I gave a ride to a guy who needed one? I’m pretty sure I would remember something like that.”
Rodger’s eyes darken and his breathing increases. He creeps in closer, a low growl escaping.
“God, I love that smart mouth of yours,” he says.
I take a step back, my eyebrows drawing close in confusion. “Wha—”
Before I can ask what the hell he’s talking about, or why he’s acting this way, Rodger smashes his mouth to mine.
One hand goes to the back of my neck, holding it in place, while the other dips to my lower back, trapping my right arm. I wedge my hand in between us to push against his chest, but he molds his body to mine, making it so I can’t use my only free arm and forcing me against the wall. I stiffen further, unsure how to get myself out of this situation.
The tip of Rodger’s tongue probes at my closed lips, trying to gain access, and I open for him, drawing him in, needing him to get closer. Just before his tongue touches mine, I bite down—hard.
He jumps back, cupping his mouth. “What the fuck, Ronnie? Why’d you bite me?” he barks out.
I wipe my tongue with the inside of my shirt, trying to get the metal taste out of my mouth while resisting the urge to grab a baseball bat and use his head for batting practice. Where does he get off on questioning why I bit him when he was manhandling me?
I charge and shove Rodger as hard as I can, causing him to stumble back a couple steps. “Don’t you ‘what the fuck’ me, you asshole. Where do you get off thinking you can come at me like that?”
He rolls his eyes and presses his fingers to his bleeding tongue. “Whatever. You liked it the last time I kissed you, why would this time be any different?”
“Maybe because we were different. That was over a year ago. We aren’t like that anymore. I told you from the beginning nothing was going to change because we slept together.” We’ve discussed this. Multiple times.
