Page 68 of The Golden Boys
Pointing, I toss a bitchy smile his way. “Well, from the looks of things, I think we both have something to take care of.”
His gaze never lowers to his cock and he isn’t even a little embarrassed by having a hard-on in front of me. For the second time at that.
“You’re welcome to stay and watch,” he teases. “I’m into that sort of thing.”
I can’t help it when my smile grows. “Hard pass,” I shoot back, leaving before I change my mind.
He’s weak for me and hates that I see it, but I’ll never let him live it down. Ever. In this little slice of hell he keeps me trapped inside, I’ve got to take what I can get. So, if my only consolation is knowing my enemy wants to get inside my pants … I’ll take it.
* * *
@QweenPandora: Uh oh, lovelies. Is there trouble in paradise? Rumors are flying either way. It seems a certain king removed the wheels from his Queen’s chariot this afternoon. Not sure what went down, but I think we’re all thinking the same thing—it’d be wise for QB-1 to get his act together before the Ho-Co game in a couple weeks. Cypress Prep has a perfect winning streak to maintain.
Later, Peeps!
—P
* * *
Chapter 22
BLUE
Thanks to Uncle Dusty, I’m not a complete novice when it comes to common car drama. For instance, I’m not some desperate, lost cause when I need to re-attach tires after some asshole thinks it’s cute to remove them.
I was mildly impressed Dane and Sterling had taken it upon themselves to have the rear two on when I came back from …whateverthat was with West. However, I screamed at them as soon as I realized what they were doing. Because if they wanted to do the right thing, they should’ve spoken up when their idiot brother started messing with my car in the first place.
So, as much as I would have loved to let someone else finish the work, I wouldn’t allow it. If they feel guilty, then let them. They deserve it.
I’m still pondering their weak attempt at righting their wrongs when I pull into my driveway. Lucky for me, Mike’s car isn’t parked on the street where it usually is, which means he’s at hisrealhome.
The bar.
As much as I hate his drinking, I much rather he be there than here. With the last few weeks I’ve had, a little smidge of peace goes a long way.
I reach to grab my bag from the floor on the passenger side and the sharp pain that shoots through my shoulder serves as a reminder of my last encounter with that man. The bruise had faded to a sickening yellow, green, and brown stain on my skin, but West had given up asking about it. Thank God.
I hate this weird dual personality thing he has going on. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he’s a nightmare, but those moments are punctuated by instances of the weird savior complex he has when it comes to me. His mood swings are impossible to keep up with, and I never bother trying.
The motion sensor Uncle Dusty installed over the back door signals the porch light to kick on and I turn my key in the lock. My first instinct is to listen out for Scar, but I hear nothing. She’s known to nap after her homework is done, so I’m careful to keep quiet as I stop at the sink for a glass of water.
There’s a fleeting temptation to grab one of Mike’s beers—one of the few things we actually have in the fridge—but shoulderingoneparent’s bad habit is bad enough. I don’t need to add my father’s vice as well.
Resisting, I drop my things into one of the kitchen chairs and take a sip before heading down the hall to check in on Scar.
Soft music seeps beneath her door and I smile at how much she’s like me. Music helps me sleep, too. Still being quiet to keep from waking her, I push the door open. What I expect to find is my adorable, pink-haired sister drooling on her pillow like I always tease her about, but instead, I’m horrified by what I see.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Two completely naked bodies hop out of her bed, scrambling across the floor for their clothes. I’m in total shock, and feeling so many emotions bubbling in my gut, I can hardly decide how to react to finding my fourteen-year-old sister in bed with a boy she’s sworn is only a friend.
“I’m so sorry. I swear it’ll never happen again,” Shane pleads as he slips past me and into the hallway. He’s holding a pair of jeans and a t-shirt over his crotch, providing a clear view of the bird chest that reminds me just how young they are.
Too young to be doingthis.
Waytoo young.
Tears well in my eyes and I’m panting likeI’mthe one who’s been caught. I’ve had my heart broken before, but none of those breakups or letdowns felt like this. What I just witnessed has absolutely gutted me.