Turner leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smiling in amusement. We’d been so entranced by the frustrating guy on the other side of the glass we hadn’t even heard him walk up.
Mena was the first to recover. “You know I only have eyes for you,” she cooed, rising up on her tippy-toes to give him a kiss.
He glared at us all with a thin-lipped smile and shook his head. “You four are worse than the creeps who only pretend to do weights while they stare at the women on cross trainers.”
“We are not!” Harlow smacked him.
“We kinda are.” Amaya shrugged, taking another sip of her drink.
I took one last surreptitious glance at the window—to make sure Hendrix hadn’t spotted us, not to cop another eyeful, of course. Unfortunately . . . I mean, fortunately, he’d disappeared into the back of the gym.
Turner slung an arm around Mena’s shoulders. “Come on. I’ve only got another twenty minutes of my break, and I need to get something to eat.”
We said our goodbyes and left the lovebirds alone.
I hadn’t planned on going to Davey’s that night, but I was so agitated after I got home I couldn’t even focus on my homework. Harlow had changed into sweats, carried armfuls of junk food into her room, and parked herself in front of the computer, so she wouldn’t be noticing jack shit for the remainder of the night. My parents were home, but I figured if I left after midnight, they wouldn’t even notice. They’d both had long days at work, and their bedroom was on the opposite side of the house.
I just had to be extra cautious and make sure it was a short visit. Everyone would be home in the morning, so I’d have to skip sleeping in, but I could handle one day of sleep deprivation.
What I couldn’t handle was another week—another day, another hour—of this clawing, pressured feeling inside me.
My to-do list was growing instead of diminishing, no matter how hard I worked, and now I had the added problem of trying to figure out the Hendrix situation. I couldn’t let Mena down; I just had no idea how to fix it. Not to mention I was suddenly finding myself thinking about Hendrix’s sweaty muscles instead of focusing on how annoying and rude he was.
Black stiletto boots in hand, I tiptoed down the stairs and into the garage without making a sound. I didn’t stop listening and looking out for someone to bust me until I was at the end of the driveway and putting my headlights on.
The leather seat was cool on my bare back. I’d kept the all-black outfit simple—halter top and short, loose skirt. Heavy eye makeup, messy hair, and no panties.
I didn’t always fuck some random when I went to Davey’s, but I was going to make sure I did tonight. I needed more than the illusion of freedom that came with dancing and anonymity. I needed the oblivion of a strong body looming over me, making me feel for a little while instead of thinking all the fucking time. I just needed a break . . .
The anticipation built as I drove, only speeding a little in my eagerness. I just knew I’d feel better in the morning, even if I was a little tired. I’d be more clearheaded and ready to tackle school, college applications, and Hendrix fucking Hawthorn.
I parked, tucked my keys into my little cross-body bag, and resisted the urge to sprint to the front door.
A grin spread over my face when I spotted Shady at the bar. I wouldn’t even need to be here an hour. But as I got closer and saw who was on the stool next to him, my heart instantly jammed up into my throat.
Why was he ruining every single aspect of my damn life? Why was I being punished like this?
Hendrix was in jeans and a black T-shirt—an expensive one with the brand in bold white letters near the bottom hem. It was a loose style, but the fabric still stretched taut over his muscular shoulders and arms. Immediately, flashes of what he looked like shirtless and sweaty assaulted my mind.
I clenched my thighs against the pressure low in my belly. I wasn’t turned on by him. My body was just already primed for sex, that was all.
But now that I was staring at the root of all my recent problems, my body was starting to make me think the solution could be to just . . . fuck him out of my system.
A group of chicks heading for the dance floor, drinks in hand, bumped me out of my stupor.
I clenched my teeth and retreated back into the crowd, then found a spot by the wall and leaned back, crossing my arms and keeping him in view.
“Hey.” A deep male voice made me glance to the side. “Can I get you a drink?”
He was exactly what I’d come here looking for: tall, late twenties, in worn jeans and boots, his tattooed arms exposed. He had the confidence to approach me within five minutes of my arrival, and he’d already made physical contact, dragging the backs of his rough knuckles up the side of my arm.
“Fuck off.” I shrugged him off and focused back on the problem at hand.
The big, bad man chuckled and muttered “feisty” under his breath as he headed for the bar. My body groaned in protest as I watched him walk away, but I had to figure Hendrix out first.
What the hell was he doing here? And how did he know Shady? Having my fun for the night ruined was frustrating, but his presence here could have much heavier implications. If he told anyone . . . I couldn’t even bear to think about it. I had to speak to Shady and get some info, then I had to either make sure Hendrix didn’t see me or find some way to make him keep his mouth shut.
My mind churned, adding more weight to the already massive amount of pressure I was there to get a break from. This wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be my place. My reprieve from my life.
What . . . how . . . ugh! Why?!
I couldn’t even think straight anymore. All I could do was glare and grind my teeth as worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind.
Shady got to his feet, did that manly handshake/slap-on-the-back combo, and disappeared into the back area. I’d never been over there—even Shady had warned me off a time or two, so I was pretty sure it was where morals went to die.
Hendrix downed the rest of his drink and turned on his stool, ready to get up, but his eyes locked with mine and he froze. A frown wrinkled his brow, then his eyes widened a little.
Well, at least now I knew this was a coincidence. He definitely hadn’t been expecting to see me.
Fuck it.
I glared back, then pushed off the wall and strutted toward the bar.
I needed to clear my head before attempting damage control, and I figured half an hour wouldn’t make a difference.
Hendrix settled back on the stool, watching me intently as I approached, but I changed direction just before I reached him.
I tapped tall, dark, and dangerous from earlier on the shoulder.
The man turned and grinned, leaning back against the bar. “Hey, feisty.”
I smirked, he raked his eyes up and down my body, and I knew I had him.
Chapter Six
Hendrix
I flopped my ass back onto the stool and gripped the edge of the bar about as hard as I was gripping the edge of my sanity.
It was really her. Donna Mead—spoiled rich bitch, queen bee of Fulton Academy—had a dark side. A dark, sexy side that had her looking as if she knew her way around a bar I was pretty sure was owned by gangsters.
Gone was the pleated skirt and pristine white shirt of the Fulton uniform—replaced by a black miniskirt and halter top. In place of the sensible Mary Janes she wore to school was a pair of thigh-high boots that had my cock stirring in my pants.