Page 178 of Just Wait

While we haven’t become best friends or anything, we do spend a lot of time casually chatting. She had it really rough growing up. She also lost her mom as a teenager, and her dads’ pack fell apart.

One of them left the state.

One died.

One is in prison.

She was left with her older brothers, and all of them did what they had to do to survive.

I don’t even have that much trauma, and I get high any time I can to avoid having to think about all that bullshit.

“You wanna do one?” she asks, nodding to the tray covered in coke.

“Yeah, thanks.” I nod, cross the room, kneel down on the other side of the coffee table, and do the line on the edge. It burns and tastes terrible, but the numbness kicks in pretty quickly, which makes the residue more tolerable.

I haven’t talked to her since Parish and Tennyson had it out in the parking lot following the club performance.

“How are things with you and Parish?” I ask, sitting back on my feet.

“God, he’s so hot,” she says, popping up after doing her own line. She rubs her nose and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Really generous.” She shrugs. “He’s fun to be around. The opposite of Ten.”

I nod, but honestly, I think the only person he’s a dick to is her. At the same time, I see him watching her often. The looks he sends her way when she’s not paying attention to him don’t seem to indicate that he’s just keeping tabs on a friend’s little sister.

Maybe I’m totally off base.

It’s hard to tell.

He really is an asshole to her at times.

“I won’t be here for long,” she says when I don’t contribute to the conversation. “It would be stupid to get attached.”

I had a similar sentiment not too long ago. I’m sure it is complicated, especially since Tennyson didn’t seem pleased that she and Parish are hooking up.

Either way, he didn’t seem to be holding a grudge when I saw him with Parish earlier today.

The door opens, and Malcolm, Parish, and Tennyson come in.

Mal is shirtless, and I’m greedy for all that skin on display. The wings and cross tattoo on his lower stomach and pelvis is showing a lot more with how low his jeans hang on his slender hips. It’s even sexier knowing the bottom part of the cross goes right down to the base of his cock. It’s also adorned with the small ball from his dermal piercing.

Tennyson drops onto the floor next to Wren and tosses his arm around her shoulder. “Doing my drugs again, Wrenley?” He chuckles, leans forward, and does a line while pulling her with him.

“It was mine first,” she says, smiling brightly. “You were the one who forced me to sell it to you, preventing me from even making some extra cash off the suckers at the club.”

I almost laugh.

They are so confusing.

“K and Riser should be done soon. They were talking to Benji.” Mal comes over, squatting at my side. “Which one was yours?” He nods at the straws.

I grab it, hand it over, and he does a line. We still haven’t had actual sex, but I guess if we can mess around without condoms, it makes sense he wouldn’t freak out about my nose funk.

Mal turns to me, wrapping his hand around my neck from behind. His fingers dig in gently, telling me to tilt my face toward him.

I smile, and I’m about to ask him how the show was, but I don’t get the chance. He cups my jaw and pushes his mouth to mine.

He smells damn good, and his stubble rakes over my cheek as he kisses me. He’s playful and enthusiastic, but it leaves me wondering where we can disappear to for some alone time.

Mal pulls back from the kiss, stands, and scoops me up, wrapping me around his front.