VANDER
“Bowie says we’re not hanging at your place tonight,” West supplies when we meet at our lockers at the end of a fucking long school week. “What’s up with that? Friday nights at Vander’s is practically legendary.”
“I told you yesterday I have plans with Crusher tonight.” I grab the books I’ll need for studying over the weekend from my locker and stuff them into my bag. “And I got some work done this week. The place is a mess.” I’m planning to spend the weekend painting the carriage house and fixing it up nicer. I need something to distract me from thinking about Kendall. Despite our friendship pact, I haven’t seen her all week, and I’m antsy.
He scratches the back of his head, frowning. “When did you tell me that?”
I roll my eyes. “When you were groping your girlfriend in the parking lot, dipshit. I should’ve known better than to talk to you then.”
He grins. “I’m not going to apologize for letting my woman distract me. Hazel is the best distraction ever.” West slings his gym bag over his shoulder, glancing behind me with a grimace, before eyeballing me. “Incoming.”
Shutting my locker, I slowly turn around just as a girl with a sickeningly sweet voice says, “Hey, sexy.”
I close my eyes for a nanosecond, praying for patience that is in limited supply these days. Schooling my features into a neutral expression, I look at Gayle, wondering what the fuck she wants now. The girl is legit driving me insane. Her hands land on my chest, uninvited, as she presses herself up against me. “Want to hang out?” She bats her eyelashes and licks her lips, and I’m sure she thinks she’s seductive, but all it does is irritate the hell out of me. I want to tell her to get lost, but Mom’s battered face resurrects in my mind, and I stuff the words back down.
Without altering my expression, I remove her hands from my chest and say, “I have plans.”
Her lip juts out in a pout, and she puts her hands on her hips and thrusts her chest forward. “Plans with who?” Her eyes narrow in suspicion, and I don’t like her tone or what it implies.
“None of your business,” I say, signaling West with a look as I move around her.
“You’re going to make this up to me!” she calls out as West and I stride away from her.
I rub at my throbbing temples, praying Dad signs the account soon. I can’t put up with this for much longer.
“What’s up with that?” my buddy asks as we stalk along the hallway toward the gym and changing areas.
“I told you my dad made me take her out. I have zero interest. Like zilch. I had a fucking headache after our last date because the girl does. Not. Stop. Talking.” We round the corner, heading in the opposite direction of the masses. I should have left through the front doors, but I know Gayle would follow me like an annoying yapping puppy. I do everything to avoid spending time in her presence, so I’ll slip out the rear doors and walk around the side of the football field, taking the long route to the parking lot. “Don’t even get me started on how she kept trying to grab my dick under the table.”
“Everyone can see she’s hot for you.”
“She’s in it alone. My cock shrivels up the second I’m in her company.”
West chuckles. “You’ve done your duty now. Just tell her to fuck off.”
“I wish it was that simple.”
“Wait.” West slams to a halt. “Are you saying the psycho is making you take her out again?”
I nod. “Until he secures the Turner Media account.”
“Start dating other girls at school. A different one every night. Let her see she means nothing to you, and she’ll get the message.”
“If I did that, she’d run to her daddy claiming I’m disrespecting her or some shit.” I drag a hand through my hair, sighing in frustration. “I have no choice but to see this through to the end.”
“Just when I think I couldn’t hate your father any more than I already do.” West shakes his head, stopping in front of the entrance to the male locker room. Coach’s booming voice can be heard through the door, even if we can’t make out what he is saying.
“You should go.” I grab the strap of my bag and prepare to walk off.
“Mom’s organizing my eighteenth birthday party for December third. My place. Eight o’clock. Make sure you’re there.”
“You know I will be.” I jerk my head up. “Later, dude.”
* * *
A few hours later, I’m parked a couple houses down from Kendall’s house, hoping she doesn’t spot me when she returns from work. She must be working late as it’s almost eight and she’s still not home. The dickhead’s car is parked in the driveway, and I’m guessing he’s waiting for his wife to return before he heads out. I know there is no proof, but my gut tells me he has a new fuck buddy.
The passenger door opens, and Crusher dumps a paper bag on my lap before climbing into my truck. He’s dressed head to toe in black, and he has a ballcap pulled down low over his face. “Did you forget the dress code?” he asks, waggling his finger in my direction as he shuts the door.
