The next morning, Hendrix dragged some kid who had been selling weed into the bathroom to beat his ass while I leaned against the tiled wall, a smoke pinched between my lips.
Hendrix pulled back to smack him again, but the bell rang. I chucked my cigarette into the sink, then blew smoke in the guy’s bloodied face before we ducked out into the halls and parted ways.
Half of the students in my English class already had their heads down. A handful of the go-getters had binders open on their desks, looking over their notes, like earning valedictorian would make a difference in a place like this. It wouldn’t.
I snagged one of the papers off the edge of Mrs. Smith’s desk, then headed to my seat to erase Bobby Graham’s name and pencil in mine.
A string of catcalls rang out, and I looked up from the paper just as Monroe strutted between the desks. A little plume of anger rose in my chest, but when she turned around to take her seat, my gaze dropped to the short, plaid skirt that stopped just a couple of inches below her ass. Had she been a guy, that little stunt last night would have resulted in a physical altercation. But she wasn’t a guy. She was a shit-hot girl with an ass I wanted to leave a handprint on. Bellamy was right. My dick did get me in trouble.
Monroe had barely settled into her seat before one of the football players crossed the room, then perched his meaty ass on the edge of her desk. He said something to her.
She rolled her eyes. “Like I told you last time, fuck off.” She went back to her book, and a collective snicker followed by a “burn” erupted from the class while dickweed stalked back to his seat, cheeks crimson.
That girl was like a feral animal that would gnaw off someone’s arm before she’d let them pet her. Lucky for me, I had a shock collar for her in the form of a debt. One that she would repay whether she liked it or not. I rose from my chair, placed the stolen essay onto the teacher’s desk, then dropped into the empty seat beside Monroe.
“Is it that you’re brave or stupid?” I offered the most son-of-a-bitch smile I could muster while I twisted a tendril of her hair around my finger.
Her nostrils flared, and she tugged the strand free from my hold. “The fact that self-respect doesn’t cross your mind says a lot about the company you keep.”
“Stupid it is.” Frowning, I grabbed her desk and yanked. A hush fell over the classroom when the chair’s metal legs screeched across the tile floor, bringing us nose to nose. We glared at each other like lions preparing to either fight or screw. Or both. “You fucked up, Roe.” I leaned over to grab her, and the chair tipped to its side. “Didn’t want anyone to know about us, huh?” Then I shoved my hand under her skirt. Before I could get far, her warm thighs clamped shut, but that didn’t keep me from moving my hand back and forth under her skirt, giving the rest of the class a very dirty illusion. One that garnered a rush of whispers while Monroe shifted in her seat, cheeks flushing.
The classroom door clicked open, but I didn’t budge. Her fingers wrapped around my wrist, tugging my hand. But I refused to move it on pure principle. “Bet you wish you had just gotten my beer now, huh, Roe?”
“Get off her, Mr. Hunt.” Mrs. Smith swore under her breath. “Mr. Hunt. Miss James!” A loud clap sounded. “Save it for after class!”
“After class it is,” I said, squeezing Monroe’s thigh before I rose to my feet. “My house, Roe. Tonight. Eight.” Then I brought my fingers to my lips, pretending to suck the taste of her off on my way across the class, leaving the whole room staring at Monroe.
The girl who didn’t want to be associated with me was now—for all intents and purposes, as far as gossip would be concerned—fucking me.
6
Monroe
I headed for Barrington, my mind still a storm of emotions. My hatred for Zeppelin Hunt was growing by the second, but I was more annoyed at myself. I should have just gotten the damn beer, but my temper had risen like an angry rattlesnake, refusing to back down. And now, he’d made sure everyone thought I was another one of his skanks.
Some girls saw Zepp in all his brooding, shithead glory, and they wanted to either be used by him or save him. He might have been hot, but I would never degrade myself with that asshole. And I didn’t give a damn about saving him. My biggest error was allowing him to see just how much I didn’t want to be seen with him because now he was going to make my life hell. My resistance was so pointless it was almost laughable.
By the time I pulled up to Max Harford’s iron gates, I’d had enough time to stew over everything, and my chest was tight. I slammed the door to my heap of a Pinto and stormed up to the white brick house. Before I had even rung the bell, Max opened the door, flashing a wide smile that screamed all-American good boy.
“You’re early.”
“Yeah, that okay?” I stepped inside the marble foyer and, as always, felt like dirt that the maid would want to sweep up.
“Of course. Only an idiot would mind a little more time with you.” His gaze dropped to my legs for a fleeting moment. “You look nice today. Like the skirt.”
I tried not to scowl. Compliments were not welcome, but I had to remind myself that with him, there was no back-handed dig. Even though Max was Barrington’s golden-boy quarterback and should have been the biggest of all dicks, he was actually okay.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
I followed him through to the massive kitchen, all sparkling and white. He disappeared behind the door of his stainless-steel refrigerator, then popped back with a can of Grapico. I eyed the purple can when he handed it to me.
“I know it’s your favorite.” He shrugged a shoulder on his way into the sitting room.
I couldn’t remember telling him that Grapico was my favorite. “That’s nice of you.” I tapped a finger over the ring pull, fidgeting as I followed him over to the couch.
“Just a quick stop at the store. It’s fine.” He patted the spot beside him. “My dad’s working late tonight.”
“Okay.” I put my books on the coffee table, then checked my watch, barely paying attention to anything else. I had three hours before I had to be at Zepp’s, and that thought had a nervous churning settling in my gut.
The engine to my piece of shit car sputtered when I pulled up outside the Hunt house. Anxious energy crept through my veins on my way up the overgrown sidewalk and onto the rotting porch. I debated leaving a few times before I finally knocked on the door. Voices shouted inside. Heavy footfalls came toward the entrance, and a series of locks clicked before the door swung open to Hendrix. He took one look at me, and that was enough to have disgust crawling over my skin. He was almost as good looking as his brother, but he was even more of a whore than Zepp.
“Who you gonna bang first, Red?” He bit his lip on a grin. “Me or my brother? You want us at the same time, that’s extra.”
“Gross. I’m here for Zepp.”
“Final answer?” He opened the door wider, then stepped to the side. “’Cause, my dick’s bigger.”
“Congratulations.” I shouldered past him, cutting through the entranceway while he laughed. I headed toward the kitchen, and seconds later, the pop of fake gunfire came from the living room.