“Embarrassed me?” He laughs. “No, rebel. Your antics can be rather adorable.” Heat blooms in my cheeks because I love that compliment. “And I don’t give a fuck what other people think.” See, definitely cool.
“You’re forgiven for leaving me behind then.”
“Hey now.” Bam steps closer. “Not so quick.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I have plans to make it up to you later.” I lick my lips.
“You still can.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to my mouth.
“Let’s see if this Shane is here.” We start walking again. I rub the palms of my hands down my jeans. They feel clammy.
When we make it to the school, it’s empty except for a few track athletes making their way around the oval. The doors to the practice facility are locked.
“It might be too late,” I huff, frustrated. “And it’s not really an ambush if we go to his house.” I don’t want him to know we’re coming. “I want it to be a sneak attack.”
“Tomorrow then. I still need to feed you dinner.”
“Wait, let’s check the pool hall.” I point down the street.
“If he’s not there, then tomorrow.” Bam’s tone is firm, and I know I won’t win this argument, so I agree.
It’s only a few blocks down the street. I pull my phone out of my back pocket to check the time and see that it’s dead.
Shit. I put it back into my pocket and rub my palms down my jeans again. I forgot my bag back at the house. I only grabbed mynotebook and booked it after Bam. It’s fine, I tell myself. We’ll check the pool hall and then head back home.
“Babe.” Bam gives my neck a squeeze. “Are you okay? You’re swaying.”
“Pool hall.” I point to the building with the neon lights in the window.
“Come on,” he grunts, leading me across the street and inside. It’s fairly dead inside, and it doesn’t take long to see that Shane isn’t here.
“Let’s ask him if Shane comes here often.” I nod to the guy behind the counter who checks out the balls for the tables. Bam stares down at me, his eyes searching my face. “Come on.” I tug on his shirt for us to go talk to the big bold guy. “You got that pic of Shane on your phone to show him?”
“Yes.” He pulls out his phone when we make it to the counter. “Is he in here often?” Bam asks him. The guy gives him a dead look, not responding. Bam slams his fist down on the counter. “Are we going to have a problem, or are you going to answer the fucking question?” His tone is serious as all get-out, and I find that I’m liking this side of Bam.
The overweight, bald man stands up from the chair he was occupying. “I don’t know who you—” He cuts off his own words when he finally notices Bam’s tattoo. “Let me see it again.” Bam pushes it over to him. “A few times a week.”
Bam grabs a pen off the counter and a random piece of paper, scribbling down his phone number. “When he comes in again, you text me.” He pulls out his wallet and drops a hundred down on top of the paper.
“Got it.” He nods, taking the paper and cash and stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans.
I grab the edge of the counter, feeling dizzier. “Bam,” I mutter, the word sounding slurred even to my own ears.
“Rebel.” Bam grabs my chin, forcing my face upward. “Where is your phone?”
“Pocket,” I manage to get out. He reaches around, pulling it out.
“It’s dead, Josie.” I stumble back a step.
“Fuck,” I say. One second I’m standing, and the next I’m in a chair with Bam barking at someone.
“I don’t—” I lick my dry lips. “Feel so great.” Black spots dance in my eyes. “Don’t be mad.” I’m in so much trouble.
“Josie.” Bam’s voice sounds far away but panicked. A giggle bubbles free when he pushes up my shirt.
“Bam,” I hiss when he squeezes the fat on my stomach. “That’s rude.”
He pushes the eject button on the pen and clicks it. I grab the arm of the chair.
“Drink,” he orders, a glass coming to my mouth. I sip the tangy juice.
