I’ve had a lot of terrible things happen to me in my life, but letting Thrasher’s face touch my pussy would be right up there. Is it worth it to bust him? Could I live with myself?
My mind swings to Jake, kneeling between my legs, genuine, careful. I liked him, or at least wanted him, and I still couldn’t let him go down on me. I hate Thrasher with every fibre in my body. Even if I get seriously liquored up and eat every grain of his fake coke, just kissing him would feel like a violation. But what am I supposed to do?
I glance at the bar, desperate for Cece, but she’s still MIA. Davis has wandered off, too. Probably assumes I don’t need him now Thrasher’s gone.
I pull out my vape and drag, my chest tight enough to burst. I can compartmentalise day-to-day, but sometimes all the things that are wrong with me burst out, and I go under. Call it an Autistic meltdown or emotional overwhelm. Either way, I’m paralysed, my thoughts swirling like grime in tepid water. A scared girl with a stupid planfucking everything up. A washed-up substance abuser who’s getting older by the second.
Help, I think.
But who could help? Whoshould?I made this mess. I deserve to sit in it.
I’m not sure how long I stare into space. Long enough for my ass to go numb. Long enough for Thrasher to reach Duck Island Ice Cream. I need to move, act, but I can’t. I’ll still be sitting here when he comes back, and everything crashes down around?—
“Oi, Renaldo!”
The fog shatters like sugar glass. I turn. Striding toward my booth, looking so big and pissed off, I’m surprised the floor isn’t shaking beneath him, is Jake Graves-Holland.
10
Ada
My heart lurches like I just racked a line of Thrasher’s fake coke. I’m not scared. Just the opposite. Melodies are ringing through my mind like church bells. Here is justice. A sense of order. A higher power. Jake’s furious expression is so sexy it hurts. A man big enough to break through whatever dank spell Thrasher’s tractor beamed me into. He’s my white knight appearing over the hill at daybreak. Still, I have a reputation to uphold. I force my face into a look of disinterest. “This is becoming quite the pattern, champ.”
He stops in front of me, arms folded, jaw tight. He takes in my dress, lipstick, and cleavage and a muscle in his cheek spasms. “Did you tell Thrasher Thompson he can eat you out if he buys you ice cream?”
Lord, will you ever make anything easy for me?
“What makes you say that?”
His scowl intensifies. “Because he’s in our golf chat telling everyone he’s gonna eat ice cream out of Ada Renaldo’s pussy.”
God, what a pig.
“That’ssonice of him. I hope he’s good at it.”
Jake looks like he might explode. “Thought you didn’t like that?”
“Ice cream?”
“Random guys going down on you?”
I inspect my lavender nails. “Yeah… I actually plan on lying to a bunch of dudes this week. Hang on, you’re in a group chat about golf?”
He ignores me, sliding into the seat across from mine without asking. “So, what? You’re just gonna fuck Thrasher, are you?”
“Well, I do love ice cream…” I glance around for Davis. He was recruited specifically to stop things like this.
“Looking for your bodyguard?” Jake snarls.
“No...” I spot Davis in the far corner of the bar, talking to Cece. She’s got a hand on his bicep, and I’m screwed. He wouldn’t notice Desert Storm kicking off behind him right now, let alone come save me.
I glance at Jake, who smiles humorlessly back at me. “Guess your friend’s too busy to bail you out this time, Renaldo. You’ll just have to deal with me on your own.”
God, he’s sexy when he’s angry. His cheekbones are sharp enough to bend the light filtering down from Cece’s tiny bar lamps. I need to focus. “And what am I dealing with exactly?”
“Don’t fuck around. You want Thrasher? That’s a serious thing?”
I roll my eyes. “We’re not married, Jake.”
