Page 3 of The Wreckage of Us
“Yeah?” he breathed, beaten to his core. I’d seen him around school too. He was James, Ian’s best friend. James was much less of a manwhore than Ian. He smiled a lot more, too, even with heavy hay about to break his spine. The two guys were in a band together called the Wreckage, and even though Ian was the lead singer, James was the heart of the music. People craved Ian, while they wanted to be James’s best friend. He was that nice of a guy. James wore a white T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off the arms and a backward baseball hat. His shirt looked like it’d seen better days, covered in dirt and rips, but still, he found a way to smile at me.
“My name is Hazel, and I’m supposed to be meeting with Ian for my training. It’s my first day.”
James arched an eyebrow before dropping the hay down to the ground. He brushed the back of his palm against his forehead and cleared his throat. “You’re working here?” he asked, sounding more baffled than I would’ve liked.
“Yes, I am. It’s my first day,” I repeated.
His eyes moved across my body, and he shook his head, making every insecurity I could’ve ever had come to the surface. It was funny how a simple look could light up one’s diffidence so easily.
James must’ve picked up on my discomfort, because he gave me one of his free smiles and leaned against the stack of hay. “You’re going to die out here, dressing in all that black. Black denim jeans and a long-sleeve shirt? Are those combat boots?” He laughed. “Are you sure you’re not supposed to be at the Farmhouse?”
His laughter wasn’t insulting. It was coated more with confusion, but still, I didn’t like it. “I’m not worried about my wardrobe. I just want to get to work.”
“You should be worried about your wardrobe, seeing as how the sun on this ranch doesn’t let up. Heatstroke is a real thing.”
“Do you know where Ian might be?” I asked through gritted teeth. I hadn’t come to the ranch for fashion criticism. I was there to work.
“Knowing Ian, he’s probably off in the office outside of the horse stables. But a little heads-up—” James started, but I cut him off.
I didn’t have time for a heads-up.
I was already almost an hour and thirty minutes late.
“Thanks,” I said, hurrying off in a jog toward the small office attached to the stables. Had Big Paw mentioned I was supposed to meet Ian at the horse-stables office? Had I misunderstood him by showing up at the main office? Oh crap. I only had one strike, and I’d already messed that up.
The moment I got to the office, I swung the door open, already having my apologies sitting on the edge of my tongue. “Hi, Ian, I’m Hazel, andohmygosh!” I blurted out, looking up to see a girl on her knees in front of a half-dressed Ian. His white T-shirt was still on, but his blue jeans and boxers were wrapped around his ankles as a woman’s lips were wrapped around his—
Oh my lanta, was it supposed to be that big? How was the girl not choking to death on the dynamite stick resting in her mouth? The way the veins bulged out of his penis made me think that thing could’ve exploded any second, and the girl on her knees had no problem with that outcome happening between her lipstick-coated lips.
I turned to look away, stunned at what I’d walked into. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I shouted, shaking my hands around in a fright.
“Get the fuck out!” Ian barked, his smoky, gruff voice dripping with irritation and pleasure all at once. Who knew you could be annoyed and pleased at the same time? Any man getting a blow job interrupted, I supposed.
“Sorry, sorry!” I repeated, hurrying out of the room. I shut the door quickly behind me and took a deep breath. My hands were shaky, and my heart pounded against my rib cage. That was the last thing I’d expected to happen inside the horse-stables office at one in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Leave it to Ian to give me quite the view that afternoon. A view I wished I could bleach from my mind.
I stood there like a complete moron for a few minutes before I checked my watch.
How hadn’t they finished yet?
Now, I wasn’t a blow job expert, but based on the size, the veins, and the determination of said woman on her knees, Ian should’ve been close to completion.
Still, I didn’t hear that happily-ever-after groan fall from his lips, and the day was passing on.
I knocked on the door.
“Piss off,” Ian’s voice hissed.
Still that charming fella I remembered from high school.
“I would if I could, but I can’t. You’re supposed to be training me today.”
“Come back tomorrow,” he ordered.
“I can’t. Big Paw told me I have to train today with you, no ifs, ands, or buts, and I refuse to lose this job opportunity. I need this.”
“Save the sob story for someone who cares,” he growled, making my anger build more and more.
Who did this guy think he was?