“Does my dick intimidate you?” I taunt, pretending to reach for the button on my jeans.
“If I add that to my piece, I’m going to need more clay.” His challenging smirk rattles me for a moment. “Remember, I felt how big your hard-on was in the kitchen.”
Fucker.
“I wasn’t hard for you,” I snap back, taking his stupid bait and letting him win this round.
“Oh,” he says, feigning surprise. “If that was you soft, I can’t begin to imagine what you’d feel like hard.”
His words have a flood of embarrassing heat rushing down to my dick. To my utter disbelief, my cock thickens in my jeans. I’m frozen in horror, but he’s once more distracted by the clay. I let out a relieved breath of air that he didn’t witness what his stupid words did to me.
“We don’t have to be enemies,” he murmurs, his brows furrowed in concentration. “In fact, it would benefit us if we could find a way to be civil to each other.”
I clench my jaw, raking my gaze over his stupid bleached hair that doesn’t match his dark eyebrows. My eyes settle on his pink bottom lip that’s slightly swollen from the way he tugs on it with his teeth when he’s focused.
“I much prefer this arrangement,” I murmur, my words coming out husky for some reason.
His lips kick up on one side in a teasing grin. “You half-naked and alone with me?”
Explosive anger detonates inside me. I grab hold of the front of his shirt, yanking him across the table beside his sculpture. He grunts as the edge presses into his stomach. The deep, dark windows into his wicked soul bore into me far too closely for my liking.
Fuck.
His scent floods my nostrils—lime and coconut. It’s an odd scent that has me curious. He doesn’t smell like a typical guy. He smells like pie.
“Why do you smell like that?” I demand, distracted by the way his hand, stained by the clay, grips my wrist.
“Like what?” His brows furl in confusion. “Clay?”
“No. You smell…”
“What?”
“Sweet,” I growl. “Like pie or the beach or summer or some shit.”
His grin is wide and victorious. “Why don’t you have a little taste and see for yourself?”
I release him, jerking my hand back as though he burned it. The smugness clouding around him is cloying and toxic. I don’t like verbally sparring with this little fucker.
I’d rather beat his ass the good old-fashioned way with my fist to his face.
“Watch your back tomorrow,” I snap, storming toward the door.
“Oh, brother, doggy style is so much fun,” he croons in a taunting way. “How did you know I prefer to bottom?”
“Fuck you, Wonderland.”
“One can certainly hope.”
The fucker winks at me, and it’s all I can do to hightail it out of that house before I get my ass landed in jail for stabbing Alis Sommers with one of his stupid sculpture tools.
It’s after midnight when I hear the front door open.
Unbelievable.
I fling off my blanket and storm through the house until I find my sister. She’s trying to sneak in, but I’m ready for her.
“What the hell?” I demand as I take in her disheveled appearance. “Where have you been?”
She rolls her eyes, which grates on my nerves. “None of your business because you’re not my dad.”
I get a whiff of beer, and it takes everything in me not to go off on her. Sure, when I was sixteen, I had already started drinking sometimes with my friends, but it doesn’t mean it’s okay for my little sister to do the same.
“Want me to call Dad?” I threaten, crossing my arms over my chest.
“As if you’d actually talk to him.”
“I had dinner with him tonight,” I throw back at her.
Her lashes blink hard as she considers my words. “You had dinner? With Dad?”
“That’s what I said.”
“What about Mom?” she snaps, waving angrily toward Mom’s room.
I let out a harsh breath of air, shrugging. “It’s not like she cares anymore anyway.”
My words may as well have slapped Carrie because she stumbles back, holding her hand over her mouth as tears fill her blue eyes that look just like mine.
“She’s depressed, asshole.” She swipes away a tear that escapes before poking me hard in the middle of my chest. “But that’s what the men in this family do, huh? When shit gets tough, they bail.”
“Carrie, that’s enough—”
“You’re right. It is. I’ll find my own ride tomorrow.”
With those words, she storms into her room, slamming the door behind her. I wait for Mom to get up to see what the commotion is about, but the house is silent.
I walk down the hall and peek in on our mother. She’s sleeping peacefully in the same position as before. Bending over, I plant a kiss on her head and turn off the television.
“Night, Mom.”
“Night, Canny.”
I cringe as I stand in the dark and listen to her soft breathing. Did she hear Carrie’s and my argument? Does she think I’m a traitor too?
Guilt is a stifling cloud around me. I suck in a sharp breath and bolt from her room. It isn’t until I’m lying face down on my bed that my heart and erratic thoughts begin to calm. By one in the morning, I realize I haven’t messaged Naomi to tell her good night.
But then I think about what an asshole I was to her earlier today. She’s still pissed, hence why there’s no text waiting for me. With a heavy sigh, I toss my phone away from me. My thoughts drift from the girl who deserves better than my moody ass to someone else.
Taunting, dark brown eyes mock me from behind my lids as sleep overtakes me.
Fucking Alister Sommers.
He may not have been the one to start this shit—that’s on Dad and always will be—but it’s him who will end it because I’m committed to destroying him.
And once I’ve broken them all, I can fix Mom.
Carrie too.
Maybe even me.
Alister
Today, I’m ready for him.
I’ll be damned if I let this guy catch me off guard ever again. He thinks because he’s bigger than me and king of the school that he’ll waltz right into my life, fuck it up, and move along on his merry little way.
Fuck that.
And fuck him.
I’m waiting by the door of our first hour, eager to poke the bear like he spent all day yesterday doing to me when my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and frown to see the unknown number again.
Unknown Number: Won’t be long now.
Laughter distracts me from the message. I follow the sounds to see Canyon walking toward me. His phone is in hand, and he’s smiling at it. Naomi walks beside him, a frown marring her face. He doesn’t notice when she speeds up, leaving him by himself.
“Really?” she mutters as she passes me.
I bristle at her judgmental tone. I’m not the one who started this shit. It was her beastly boyfriend. Naomi Young can look down at me all she wants, but I refuse to be the bigger man while her asshole boyfriend stomps all over me.
She disappears into the classroom, and Canyon finally realizes Naomi is nowhere in sight. The smile on his face is wiped away, and he pockets his phone. As soon as his blue eyes notice me, his blank expression turns into a dark scowl.