Home > No Good (Dayton #2)(3)

No Good (Dayton #2)(3)
Author: Stevie J.Cole

The self-righteous, judgmental glare she shot at me lit my short fuse. It wasn’t like she had been Mother Teresa that night, riding my face like she was the Lone Ranger and I, her trusted steed. If this girl wanted to judge my character, then I was absolutely going to judge hers.

I narrowed my gaze. “What kinda girl goes out to a van with a guy who offers her a shitty pick-up line?” Yeah, it was shitty of me...

“That—is not the point.” A slight red tinged her cheeks. “I was having a very bad night. And you...”

“From the way it felt when you came on my face,” I said, “seems I made that very bad night a helluva lot better.” With one swift movement, I pinned her against a dirty car window.

And like I knew she would, she reacted. Latching onto my biceps and pushing, pulling. Pushing… like she couldn’t decide if she wanted me closer or farther away. Rich pricks weren’t as gifted as I was in the arena of vulgarity, so if I had to guess, my ability to make her hot and repulsed at the same time must be a new sensation. So why stop?

“And I’d gladly do it again. Right here.” I moved my hands to her waist, then nudged her legs apart with my knee. “Right now. On the hood of this car, if you want.”

“I…”

“You what?” I breathed against her lips.

Genevieve’s hold on my arm tightened. That’s right, baby girl, try to fight it. The way her chest rose on uneven swells made my dick harder than concrete, and the thought of slipping my dick between her glossy lips sprung to life. My fingers twitched over her sides, the primitive part of me begging to give in. This girl got me going, unlike anything I’d experienced before. I contemplated what filthy line I could throw at her next, but a string of chatter broke through the silence. Genevieve went rigid.

The conversation fell quiet, and I glanced over my shoulder at Nikki, surrounded by a group of her annoying friends. “Are you serious right now?” Her arms crossed her chest while her gaze pinged between Genevieve and me.

There was one way to quickly clear up this misunderstanding, both between Genevieve and me and Nikki and me. “Hey, Nikki,” I said, my hold on Genevieve tightening. “Since you screwed this up last weekend by being a psycho, can you tell her that you’re not my girlfriend?”

Nikki’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Fuck you, Bellamy.” Then she marched off, her troop of mean girls in tow.

“See. Not my girlfriend.” I smiled.

With a roll of her eyes, Genevieve shoved me back a step. “You’re a dick,” she said, brushing past me.

She could call me a dick all day long, but that girl was one hundred percent interested, and I was one hundred percent going to ruin her.

 

 

3

 

 

Bellamy

 

 

The screen door slammed closed behind me, doing little to silence my dad's angry shouts mixed with the ruckus of things breaking inside the house. I swiped a hand at my lip, catching a trickle of blood on my knuckle. I had tried to deescalate the fight and gave the asshole just enough time to get one good swing in on me. And I hated that I’d let him.

Crickets silenced when I hopped over the chain-link fence separating my yard from the one behind us. I cut through the tall weeds to the back door.

“Hey! Nash.” I pounded a fist on the rotting siding. “You in there?”

Footsteps came from inside before the click of the deadbolt sounded. Nash opened the door, and his gaze immediately landed on my lip. “Your old man being a dick again?”

“Yeah.” I shouldered past him straight to the sink to rinse off my mouth.

“Where’s Arlo?”

“At a friends.”

Nodding, he grabbed a tattered dish towel and passed it to me. Nash was one of the few people who actually knew how bad it was at home. Partly because he lived right behind me and couldn’t ignore it. He glanced at my house, then back at me. “You should lay him out one good time.”

The problem was, I had, and it hadn’t made a difference. Dad was an angry drunk. And I’d been his whipping post for most of my life—until I could defend myself. Now, I was nothing but a rival. “I’m just pissed he got a hit in,” I said.

Nash took a beer from the fridge. “Yeah, but girls dig scars, man.” He headed toward his living room, fishing out his wallet before he dropped into the ratty recliner in the corner, then held up a crisp twenty. “You got any on you?”

I pulled a baggie from my pocket and launched it at him before taking the cash. Just like the money I made selling those history tests, this would go into the envelope I kept hidden in my top dresser drawer. An envelope that would eventually have an address scribbled across the front and a stamp placed in the corner.

Nash grabbed his guitar from the side of the couch, strumming out a chord. “Me and some of the guys from the band are having a party tonight if you want to invite your friends over.”

Nash and his friends were wannabe rock stars, and they partied just like they were practicing for fame. Having a night off sounded like a great idea.

 

Hours later, people crowded into Nash’s small living room, bumping in beat with the music, spilling beer, and smoking.

Hendrix skirted around a group of girls in short skirts, his gaze going straight to their asses. “Man, this is awesome.” He grabbed at his crotch. “If this is what being in a band is about, we need to start one.”

“You can’t play an instrument.”

“I play pussy, Bell. What else do I need to do? I mean...” He dug his phone from his pocket. His brow knitted as he glanced down at the screen. “No way. Wolf said there’s some dickhole named Drew selling weed through Frank’s drive-thru.” Hendrix cracked his neck to the side. “Oh, yeah. Getting into a fight tonight.”

I snatched the phone from his hand, skimming over the text. “Through a drive-thru, really?”

Money had been tight since Hendrix’s brother, Zepp, had gone to jail. This was not the crap any of us needed right now. We were already barely scraping by. “Come on,” I said, digging into my pocket for my keys. “Let’s go down to Frank’s.”

Hendrix fist-pumped the air. “I’m going on a trip, to beat some dumbass dick,” he sang to the tune of the Little Einstein’s theme song. “Soaring through the sky, he might die…”

“You know, your ability to take any children’s song and make it messed up is almost impressive.” I patted his back on my way to the door.

Ten minutes later, we idled in a line that wrapped around Frank’s Famous Chicken. Hendrix sat in the passenger seat, throwing another practice punch. “Why are we in the drive-thru, anyway? We should just go inside and pummel the assdribble.”

“Because for all we know Drew’s from the Northside.”

That shut up Hendrix. We were high school kids pedaling a little pot to scrape by, and those guys...Those guys were full-time drug dealers, and I didn’t really want a bullet in my head. I’d never heard of a guy named Drew in Dayton.

Static crackled over the speakers when I pulled up to the menu board, placed our order, and waited again.

Hendrix huffed, then snatched the boob-shaped stress ball from my dashboard. “You know, if Pepperoni Nips wasn’t such a psycho, you could’ve asked her who the dickhead is.”

Hot Books
» House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1)
» A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire
» From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1)
» A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime
» Deviant King (Royal Elite #1)
» Den of Vipers
» House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2)
» The Queen of Nothing (The Folk of the Air #
» Sweet Temptation
» The Sweetest Oblivion (Made #1)
» Chasing Cassandra (The Ravenels #6)
» Wreck & Ruin
» Steel Princess (Royal Elite #2)
» Twisted Hate (Twisted #3)
» The Play (Briar U Book 3)