Interference (Bases Series Book 1)

by Hazel Grace

  And what the heck was he going to do next.

  Present day

  “He’s just your average douchebag,” Jake reputes, tossing his overly large suitcase in the corner of my bedroom. “You can handle him.”

  I watch him familiarly walk into my small apartment bathroom and wash his hands. He’s too tall for it, looking out of place like he just walked into a Barbie house.

  No matter how much I’ve spoken with him about Colson, it does no justice to having to deal with him first hand. Every time he walks into my space, I feel seventeen again, and every emotion, memory, and touch evades all of my senses. My body reacts to him, my brain signals warnings and my heart—that thing has been worked out more in the last few weeks than it has my whole life.

  “I can’t handle his torture when I have so much more on my mind,” I retort, crossing my arms and leaning inside the door frame of my bedroom. “Dad’s brokerage is starting to pick up, next, Colson is going to fuck around with my family. I can’t have that, I held off school for this.”

  Jake walks out of the bathroom, toweling off his hands. “Sawyer, relax, you forget who you’re talking to here. Dude, clearly, didn’t like me around you.”

  “Because he saw happiness. He saw that with you around I didn’t look like a frightened teenager who looked at him with puppy dog eyes.”

  He wrinkles his nose, and I narrow my brows. “You did that?”

  God, I don’t think so.

  “No, I just don’t want him around me. He’ll ruin everything with Myles and—”

  “I thought you guys weren’t serious?”

  I shrug. “We’re not, but it could be.” Jake scoffs and tosses the towel in my hamper. “What?”

  “I don’t know, doesn’t sound like your type.”

  “What, a guy with a career?”

  “No, a guy who doesn’t have balls to slam you up against a wall a few times and whisper dirty shit in your ear.”

  “A guy like you?”

  He smirks, closing the distance between us. “You’re too good for me, and I’m lucky that you even want me here. But we both know that I’m not settling down anytime soon, and I never want to hurt you.”

  I grin. “You think too highly of yourself. I haven’t fallen in love with you yet.” His hand glides over my arm in a soft sweep.

  “Lust can turn into love,” he mutters. “That’s why it’s good that I don’t stay around long.”

  I look up at him, his face solemn. “How kind of you.”

  Jake pulls me closer until our chests meet. “It’s more for me than it is for you, Freshman. If I stay around, I might just fall head over heels. And men in love tend to do stupid shit.”

  “Like giving up your company,” I include. He nods, his eyes sweeping my face.

  Jake never talked about his feelings, just the ones that included his dick. But I never thought about what could happen if Jake and I ever gave us a shot. Maybe it was because we kept ourselves at arm’s length, I knew who he was, and he knew what I wasn’t willing to deal with.

  With Jake, it’d be me worrying about his faithfulness because he would get too tempted to cheat. I had faith that one day he’d find the right girl, but it wasn’t me. We fulfilled another need for each other, some sort of void of loneliness that no one has ever been able to fill for him or me, even if it was temporary for the both of us. But it worked for me, it had to, and right now, I needed it more than ever.

  “When’s your date with Myles?”

  I release an exhale. “It’s not a date, he just wants me to show him how to hit a ball for this team he joined.”

  “See,” Jake chuckles. “Not a fit for you.” I roll my eyes. I don’t see how something stable would be bad for me. It’s not like I’ve ever had it or given it a solid chance.

  “Please be open-minded, Jake,” I plead. “I value your opinion but let me have—”

  “You’re not having sex with him while I’m here,” Jake blurts, wrapping his arms around my back. “Fuck no.”

  “I was going to say some time,” I counter. “Caveman.” Jake takes a step back and bends over, putting his shoulder into my stomach, flipping me over it.

  “I’ll show you caveman, Freshman,” he recites, walking toward my bed. “With my dick in your pretty mouth.”

  Ten years ago

  “Dude, c’mon,” Ben whines over the phone. “I’m freaking starving.”

  “I really don’t give a shit,” I retort. “I’m tired of the Burger Joint.”

  And I’m tired of seeing Sawyer Boyd practically every damn day of my life.

  Just recently she started working there, of course, because it’s really the only place in Freemont that serves good food.

  Unless you want to go to Mancino’s subs, but it’s on the other side of town, and Burger Joint is just two blocks from school. Perfect location, horrible choice of hiring.

  “Well, do you have gas money because the only other place I want to eat at is China Star,” Ben counters.

  “They serve cats,” I say, closing my Chemistry book because I just lost all my concentration. He just put Sawyer in my mind...which puts Gavin in my thoughts. “Fuck it, let’s go. Call up Gavin so we can head out.”

  And so I can keep a damn eye on him like a crazed best friend. Who only has Gavin’s best interest at heart, of course.

  “He’s out with his cousin working on their dryer or something,” Ben explains. “I’ll come by and pick you up, see you in ten.” He hangs up the phone, then I change into a new shirt and jeans.

  Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I mess with my hair that has grown out and style it to the side. I keep it longer on purpose because girls stare at it, dreaming about running their hands through my locks. Anything to please the opposite sex and get some ass in the process.

  Ben picks me up in his red Ford Contour, bitching about how his dad never has any food in the house and he’s tired of carry-out. I’d tell him to cook for himself, I have actually in the past, but he continues on with the mundane conversation.

  After seven minutes of Ben’s complaining—yes, seven, I kept track—we pull into the parking lot. Burger Joint is not too big, but it holds a decent amount of people. It hasn’t been renovated since the ’50s and still has a jukebox in the back corner inside, red stools that are set in place to the black and white tiles along the bar-like countertops.

  Tom, the owner and a complete asshole, made a pickup window along the side of the building, kinda like a drive-thru, to make more room for people to eat outside. God forbid the cheap ass try to make the place bigger to accommodate.

  “Wanna eat in or out?” Ben asks me as we stroll up. I quickly look around to locate a rare redhead in skates.

  Oh yeah, Tom makes his waitresses serve food in roller skates. Sounds safe, right?

  Sawyer is taking an order at one of the picnic tables, it’s a little chilly outside but, low and behold, her legs are on perfect display for me and the whole population.

  She’s wearing a mint green button-up uniform that comes dangerously high above her knees. If she bent over, her peach little ass would be the center of attention for every guy within a football field’s distance. Her white socks are cuffed, peeking out of her skates, and she’s donning a stupid-looking hat that has to be glued to the side of her head because I have no idea how she’s keeping it on right now.

  “Dude, make up your mind,” Ben gripes, elbowing me in the ribs.

  “Outside,” I murmur, letting Ben lead the way to an empty table while my eyes stay glued to her.

  I have to admit, if she came to see me in that outfit, I’d enjoy ripping the buttons off just to see them fly and discover what laid underneath. From what I can see right now with the way her uniform is hugging her hips and her tits, my dick is showing appreciation in my boxers.

  Sitting down, I shift in my seat to hide my growing hard-on.

  Damn, what the fuck?

  I get why Gavin wants to fuck her, but date her? We all know how
I think that’s going to go. Cuddling at the movies without a hand or blowjob, listening to boy bands, and gossiping with her girlfriends—no thanks.

  “Holy shit,” Ben gasps. “Tom changed the fucking menus.” I tear my gaze off Sawyer’s legs and pluck a menu out of the metal holder.

  “They look the same to me,” I convey, seeing the same red and black print.

  Ben leans over the table and points to the bottom right-hand corner. “He added on a triple-decker burger with bacon, onion straws, and cheese.”

  I raise a brow. “So, he just added a new burger to the menu. He didn’t change the whole menu.”

  “When’s the last time you’ve seen Tom change anything around here?” Ben turns his eyes into slits like I just dismissed one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

  I can’t wait to get out of this town.

  “You’re a full-blown towny, you know that, Benjamin?” I chide, throwing my menu on the table.

  He chuckles. “And you’re a full-blown asshole, you know that, Hayes?” I smirk, studying the crowd. All kids from school, munching on fries and talking shit. A typical boring Saturday evening in Freemont. Until I see Gavin walk over to Sawyer and kiss her forehead.

  What. The. Hell.

  “I thought you said Gavin couldn’t come,” I ground out, watching him place his hands on her hips. She smiles so fucking bright that I need shades. It’s perfect, warming, and downright hypnotizing, especially to someone stupid as hell like my best friend.

  “Yeah, working on a dryer,” Ben says mindlessly, still perusing the menu.

  “Well, then he has a twin because I’m looking at him right now.” Ben peers over his shoulder and lands on Gavin.

  He calls over to him, causing him to look up from Sawyer, giving us a grin. I watch him bring her chin up with his index finger, so she’s gazing up at him, and then tap her nose like she’s a four-year-old.

  I roll my eyes as he saunters over, taking a seat next to Ben. “Hey, guys, what’s up?”

  “Thought you said you were working on a dryer,” I complain with a scowl.

  Gavin shrugs. “Got done early, figured I’d see you guys up here since we all know Ben will bitch until he eats.”

  Ben hits his arm with his menu. “You don’t want to see me when I don’t eat. I’ll kill people.”

  “Sure you will, Benny boy,” Gavin jeers.

  “Hey guys,” Sawyer greets. I jolt a little, not seeing her roll over because I was too busy burning Gavin alive with my eyes.

  “Hey Sawyer,” Ben calls back. “Tom put a new burger on the menu, eh?”

  Geezus Christ, who the fuck cares?

  She tsks. “Yeah, I guess he broke down after the constant nagging about how the menu has been the same since the place opened. Now, he just gripes about how he has to order more bacon.”

  “As long as he ain’t bitching at my girl,” Gavin chimes, giving her a shit-eating smile. Sawyer gives him a feeble grin in return, looking tired.

  “What can I get you all to eat?” she asks, holding a pen and pad of paper. Ben rattles off his order, and Gavin follows, but when her eyes land on me, innocent and naive, a sudden urge washes over me to show her what it would’ve been like if she had just kissed me.

  “Hayes,” she speaks. “Did you want something?”

  Yeah, I want to know what you taste like.

  “Cheeseburger and fries,” I deadpan. She doesn’t wait for anything else, just skates away when she gets called at from another table.

  “The Churchill pitcher got hurt yesterday,” Ben tells us, leaning his elbows on the table. “Pulled something in his shoulder. Just ups our chances of winning on Friday.”

  “Liam still throwing that victory party for us?” Gavin asks.

  “Yep, ordered the kegs and everything.”

  Gavin looks at me. “You going?”

  “Depends how I feel,” I reply, looking over his shoulder to see Sawyer talking to a group of guys and jotting something on her notepad.

  “You’ve been really broody, man,” Gavin implies. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

  I think back, and back, and back.

  Damn.

  “It’s been a minute,” I reply.

  “Why don’t you just give it to Melanie? She’s been up your ass at practice so get up hers,” Gavin insists.

  I glance over his shoulder again at Sawyer. “She’s annoying as fuck.”

  “But hot as fuck,” Ben conveys, high fiving Gavin. They bullshit about her ass and something about the obnoxious amount of skirts she wears, when I see the guy Sawyer is talking to shift.

  She’s leaned over his shoulder, looking at a menu, when his hand starts to graze along her upper thigh and under her uniform.

  I don’t remember standing up or walking over there, but the next thing I recall is the back of his shirt in my hands as I yank him out of his seat. He tumbles back, trying to regain his balance, then whips around to face me.

  Trent Davon.

  Captain of the football team, douchebag of the century, and best pal up until fifth grade when he danced with Amber Eugene at the Spring dance after I told him I had a crush on her.

  That was before I took what I wanted.

  Now, every time we see each other, it’s like a staring contest on who will look away first.

  Middle school shit.

  “The fuck do you think you’re doing, Hayes,” he snaps at me, shoving me backward.

  Trent is a big guy for a quarterback, six foot three, probably has a hundred more pounds on him than I do. And when I describe him, you’d think he’s broad and muscular, right?

  Wrong.

  He looks like Chris Farley but without the boyish charm or sense of humor. He wears his Varsity title like a crown, beckoning, demanding, and taking. Thing is, he was trying to take what I wanted to touch.

  “Taking up molestation these days, Davon?” I berate, keeping my eyes on him because he’s that dickhead who’ll sucker punch you the moment you look away.

  His pupils flare. “The hell did you just say to me?”

  I glance around him to his friends. “Can anyone of you translate for this fuckhead?” Trent shoves me again, testing my temper.

  He touches me one more time and he won’t be playing his next game.

  “You need to keep your big ass mouth shut,” Trent glowers, towering over me.

  I deepen my brows. “Or what? You going to brush my thigh too, you fat fuck.”

  Trent takes a menacing step toward me. “You’re dead, motherfucker.” Sawyer’s hand lands on my upper arm, squeezing it. I can feel her trembling against my skin.

  “Colson,” she whispers softly. “C’mon, let’s just go.” Trent zones in on her, eye fucking her with his shit-brown eyes.

  I ignore her touch and shove him. “Quit looking at her, you stupid piece of—”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Gavin chimes, standing in between us. “Gentlemen, let’s take a breath here.”

  Trent points at me, his index finger two inches from my face. “Tell your boy to keep his damn hands to himself.” Gavin holds his palms up, nodding his head profusely like a bobblehead.

  “Colson,” Sawyer repeats in a muttered voice, pulling gently at my arm.

  I take my first glance at her, discovering her eyes filled with fear and...worry? And where are her freckles? I thought I remember seeing more of them before.

  “Are you wearing makeup?” I randomly blurt out. I like her freckles and how I can easily see her blush without whatever it is girls wear to hide shit.

  Her nose wrinkles at my random question and opens her mouth, but Gavin’s hand smacks my shoulder blade.

  “I think this is a misunderstanding,” Gavin offers. “Y’all enjoy your lunch or dinner, whatever it is you’re—”

  “You think him touching your girlfriend’s thigh is a misunderstanding?” I rant, glaring at the back of his head.

  Gavin’s head slowly turns toward me, Sawyer’s fingers graze down to my forearm, begg
ing me to walk away. But I’m about to jab my best friend in the jaw and throat punch Trent, hoping to crush his windpipe.

  But I’m wrong.

  So wrong.

  I just got into a confrontation over a girl who’s trying to tame Gavin. I’ve been chastising him and her about how dating each other was a bad idea. And here I am, about to fight Trent Davon over a girl who I want nothing to do with.

  “He touched her?” Gavin utters under his breath. I roll my eyes. Apparently, Trent isn’t the only one who needs a translator.

  “That’s what I said.” My pal rounds on him, now thrusting him backward.

  Ben appears out of nowhere, clutching his arm and pulling him back. A group of people are surrounding us now, shouting and flinging Gavin and Trent aside. But all I feel is Sawyer’s small hand still holding my arm.

  “Get out of here, Bases,” I seize, not wanting her to get elbowed or shoved on her ass in her skates.

  She doesn’t move, which makes me look down at her. Her emerald eyes gleam with thanks, and something I can’t figure out. I don’t know because I’ve never had someone look at me like that before.

  “You too,” she pleads, giving my forearm a little tug. I shake my head. I’m not hers to command nor am I the person she should be concerning herself with right now.

  “Cancel my order,” I voice, slipping my arm out of her grasp. “And grab your boyfriend. Don’t worry about me.” She opens her mouth to say something but falls short or decides against it but never breaks eye contact with me. Not telling me what I want to hear. That I was right or that she was having regrets about kissing him over me.

  I berate myself.

  Fuck this.

  Who the hell cares if this little ginger didn’t kiss me?

  I shouldn’t. There isn’t anything she can offer me that I can’t get from any other girl around here. Her little hands don’t have a scholarship in them, so she isn’t shit to me on any day of the week. I was being a man who protected a woman, any woman for that matter, from getting assaulted by a piece of shit like Trent.