11. Zepp

ELEVEN

zepp

I sat in calculus, drawing a picture, trying to take my mind off her. I didn't know jack shit about Monroe, and yet, the idea of her cost me sleep and my sanity. By the time the bell rang, the page was covered with a half-finished sketch of a forest filled with demons. A girl from the back of class stopped beside my desk. "That's good," she said.

I slammed the notebook closed, got out of my seat, and headed to the cafeteria to meet up with the guys.

Spaghetti splattered up from the tray when I dropped it to the table beside Monroe. She tensed, stopping mid-sentence as the rest of the guys took seats around her and Jade.

"Come on, Monroe." Jade stabbed at the carrot on her plate. "I even have a dress for tomorrow. It'll be fun to go to a party."

Hendrix cocked a brow. "What kind of dress? Like one of those sacrificial gowns people wear to slaughter goats and shit?"

My gaze fixed on Monroe, but she wouldn't look at me. "Whose party, Roe?" I twirled the watery noodles around the prongs of my fork before cramming it into my mouth.

"No one's."

I looked at Jade, and she froze like I was a T-rex that wouldn't notice her if she didn't move.

"Whose party?"

She frowned at me. "I'm not telling you."

Hendrix sidled up to Jade, placing his nose inches from her cheek. "Whose party?"

Jade put her hands on Hendrix's shoulder, lip curled like he was a dirty rag before she shoved him away. "Oh, my God. Max Harford's."

Monroe tossed a bread roll at Hendrix, then a piece of celery at me. "You're a pair of pricks."

God, Monroe just didn't know when to quit. Tutoring them. Going to their parties.

Monroe turned on me. "Don't you even think about it, Zepp! I'm not going."

"Maybe you aren't, but we are." Showing up, uninvited to one of Barrington's parties, was like taking a shit on their face. Plus, by the end of the night, we could probably coerce some girl into telling us which little rich prick had ratted on us.

A fissure of concern crossed Monroe's face before it hardened like setting concrete. "The Harfords called the cops on you, Zepp. You cannot show up at their house."

I felt the guys' stares all lock on me. Wolf lobbed a carrot at me. "Why the hell was Max Harford calling the cops on you?"

My jaw tightened. I told the guys most things, but that shitshow was none of their business.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" A smug smile touched Monroe's lips. "Zepp turned up at Max's house last night, threatening him. He thought I was dating Max."

I glared at her.

"You kick his ass?" Hendrix asked.

She crumpled her napkin in her palm, then dropped it to the table with a smartass grin. "No, he did not."

"Should have crammed his balls up his asshole," Hendrix said around a mouthful of noodles. "You have shit taste in dick, Red."

"Oh my God." She slapped her palms on the table, glaring at my brother. "I tutor him."

He choked on his spaghetti, spitting half-chewed noodles all over Wolf's tray. "You. Tutor?" Hendrix doubled over with laughter. "What do you tutor? Sex Ed?"

Bellamy and Wolf joined in, barking out laughs.

She pushed to her feet and started across the cafeteria, her tray still at the table. "You're all pricks," she called over her shoulder like that was some magnificent revelation.

"It's just a couple of rich kids playing with their dicks after you leave."

She flipped me off before shoving through the lunchroom doors.

Max Harford was going to hate the day he invited her to that party.

Regardless of the current situation with these dickheads, anytime Dayton kids got wind of a Barrington party, we always showed up to piss on their fun—just like they did with us. But this was the first time we'd crashed a party at one of their houses.

Wolf parked at the end of the cul-de-sac, and we filed out. A group of Barrington girls strutted up in tight jeans and high heels. Hendrix grabbed at his crotch. "My dick is already hard with the possibilities."

Offensive pop music poured out into the night when Wolf opened the front door, joint pinched between his lips.

A spiral staircase wound its way to the upper level. Massive oil paintings decorated the walls, and a stuffed zebra head hung by one of the arched doorways. This was what rich people spent their money on. Things that didn't matter. Shit that made them feel important, that they thought would impress their party guests. It was the first time my pity overtook my envy. These assholes were just as lost as I was but on the flip side of the coin.

Hendrix's face lit up like a thirteen-year-old seeing tits for the first time. "Do you know how much shit we could steal?"

"Dude," Wolf blew out a cloud of smoke. His gaze lifted to the ridiculous crystal chandelier hanging over our heads. "I'll take the chandelier."

I popped them both on the back of the head. "Don't steal anything."

"Yeah." Bellamy shouldered between us. "Barrington cops don't fuck around."

A group of jocks with their Crest-white smiles stopped talking the second we walked in. A glare was all it took for them to turn away. They may have been the kings of their precious private school, but in the real world, they didn't amount to shit.

Hendrix clapped his hands, rubbing them together while his attention strayed toward the living room. "How about stealing some cherries?" I followed his gaze to the group of girls by the fireplace, smiling and twirling hair around their fingers.

"Keep your dick in your pants, for once," I said.

Hendrix mumbled "whatever" under his breath, and we took a collective step as a group. People shifted away like our poverty would rub off on them. My steps faltered when I noticed Monroe in the kitchen. I had never seen her in anything that didn't threaten to show her ass if she bent the wrong way, and the skirt she was wearing didn't come close to showing anything. Jade stood beside her, laughing and chugging beer. Jesus. They were actually trying to impress rich assholes who didn't deserve a second glance from them.

Max shifted behind Monroe and handed her a beer. She tipped back her drink. Then her gaze slowly turned—like she could feel my eyes burning through the back of her red-fucking-head. Her face washed white before she touched a hand to Max's arm, then made a beeline for me. I thought about shouldering through the crowd of preppy dickheads and grabbing their star-quarterback, snapping his neck, and spitting on his face, showing that dick what a bully actually was. But then the smell of cheap perfume wrapped around me.

"Oh, great. You came." Sighing, Monroe latched onto my arm and tugged me to the side of the room.

"Thought you weren't coming." I looked back at Harford, my blood heating. His beady eyes locked on me like I was a challenge. "Change your mind, Roe?" I asked.

"Jade wanted to come." Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. "And I knew you guys wouldn't be able to help yourselves. Call it a feeble attempt at damage control."

Damage control. For these pricks? What the hell ever. I tugged at the hem of her skirt. "What's up with this shit? Trying not to look like poor, white trash?" Because that's exactly how Max and his friends thought of us.

"Fuck you, Zepp." She went to move away, but Max shouldered his way behind her. Two other dickwads in letterman jackets flanked him.

"You aren't welcome here, Hunt." He folded his gym-rat arms over his chest.

All I could do was toss my head back on a laugh. Where this kid came from, a pussy punch to the face was considered a fight. He had no idea what a few broken ribs and a fractured skull was like.

Hendrix lurched forward, but I caught the back of his hoodie and yanked him back, like a Pitbull on a leash. My brother loved a fight a little too much. "Let me get the pretty blond one, Zepp."

Monroe moved between us. "Jesus Christ." She glared at me like I was the one being a dick. "You're really going to start a fight, Zepp?"

"Hey," I shrugged. "All I did was show up."

She faced Max. Adrenaline fired through me when she told him we would go.

Max flashed her a smile. One full of intention. " You're invited, Monroe." It pissed me off that she couldn't see through his fake bullshit. I cracked my neck to the side, knuckles aching to smack against his face.

"You hitting on my girl, Harford?" I took a step toward him, shoulders back, fists clenched.

Max Harford was a poster boy that needed a goddamn throat punch. I would gut him before he ever touched Monroe.

Wolf and Bellamy did a vulture circle around the two guys flanking Max's side. And still, the brave bastard took a half-step forward. It took everything in me not to pop him in his mouth.

"You sure she's your girl?" he said.

She wasn't, but that didn't stop me from grabbing her like she was. I yanked her close, placing one certain hand on her ass before I claimed her mouth with mine. She stilled in my hold before her fingers bunched in my shirt. Her lips parted. If I ever got her in bed, she wouldn't sit down for a week without feeling me. "Tell him you're mine, Roe." I bit at her lip before she shoved me back a step.

"God, will you stop this macho shit? He wasn't hitting on me." She took my hand, her silent show unexpected—the way she squeezed until I felt my knuckles pop, not so much. "We're friends, aren't we, Max?"

When a guy wanted to screw a girl, nothing would bruise his ego more than being called a friend, which was why I shot a shit-eating grin at him.

"Yeah. Of course." His lips twitched into a we'll-agree-to-disagree smile before his gaze swung from her to me. "Friends."

I skimmed my fingers beneath the hem of Monroe's shirt, and I stared that fucker down.

Backing into me, her grip on my hand tightened. "We should go."

"Like I said," Max's eyes locked with mine, "you're invited, Monroe. Always." One sentence that served as a nuclear explosion, a toe over the line already drawn. My muscles tensed.

"Can we just beat their asses already?" Hendrix groaned from behind me.

Before I could answer, Monroe grabbed a handful of my shirt. "Zepp..." she said, a warning tone in her voice. She knew I'd beat the shit out of him given a chance, and the thought that she wanted to protect him made me even more eager to slam his face through a window. Or a piano. Or both. "Let's go find a bathroom," she said, gliding a hand over my chest, but I didn't budge. She tugged on my hand in an attempt to lead me away.

I had never backed down from a fight in my life. But even as pissed as I was, I knew kicking his ass with that many witnesses wouldn't end well. The only reason I was able to move from the spot was the fact that Monroe was, at least, trying to make the exit insulting to that prick.

The partygoers parted when Monroe led me into the hallway.

Hendrix fell in line beside me. "Should have beat his ass, Zepp." He eyed Monroe when she stopped in the bathroom doorway. "You're making him soft."

With a shake of her head, she pulled me over the threshold, then slammed the door in my brother's face. He was right. I should have sucker-punched Max right in his rich-boy face. I shouldn't have cared. She wasn't mine, but the idea that Harford thought he could have her was like having a metric ton of dynamite in my head, fuse lit, and on the verge of explosion. And that last comment of his: " You're welcome, Monroe. Always, " was a fuck you if there ever was one. And I had let him get away with it. All because she was afraid I would hurt him.

I turned on her, jaw clenched. "Worried about your little boyfriend out there?"

"God, you're an idiot." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "If you get into a fight, who is going to come off worse?"

I stopped pacing to glare at her, my eye twitching. No way in hell she thought Harford could take me. "Who the fuck do you think?" My voice boomed around the ritzy bathroom.

She leaned against the marble sink with a frown. "You. It will always be you. Because they will call the cops, and they aren't hauling Daddy's boy to jail, are they?"

I paced again, all too aware Monroe was right. These Barrington dick's bankrolled fathers always knew the right people. They always got off on the "but he's from a good family" excuse. They were always the heroes, and we were always the villains. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Damn, did we both look out of place in this pristine bathroom with all its expensive soaps and folded hand towels. Maybe they were better...

"God, I hate them," I said through gritted teeth.

We stood in silence. If I had to guess, both hating the Barrington kids for the sheer fact that they had things we never would. Like folded fucking hand towels.

Monroe dropped her head on a sigh. "I don't know why the hell I agreed to come to this."

Someone banged on the door. Hendrix faked a high-pitched moan from the other side. "Right there, Zepp. Get my G-spot." A loud chuckle followed before the door rattled again. "Come on, man. I gotta whizz."

Monroe shoved away from the sink and looked at me. "Can we just leave?"

The petty side of me wanted to stay until the last person left, but she wanted to go. My petty bullshit wasn't worth it. "Whatever. We'll go." I opened the door and stepped into the narrow hall.

Hendrix had one of the Barrington cheerleaders cornered, one hand trailing down her arm while the other swatted at one of the family portraits on the wall. He whispered something into her ear, and she blushed. Dumbass.

"Hey, dickface?" I said. "Where are the other guys?"

Hendrix glanced over the girl's shoulder. "Wolf went up to a room with some girl. And Bellamy…" His attention went back to the girl. He was like a squirrel chasing nuts.

I walked over and whacked his head. "I'm ready to go."

"Man." He scowled, stepping away from the girl. "I'm about to take whatever this chick's name is into the bathroom and pound her brains out."

Like a typical Barrington girl, she stood there, pretending she didn't hear it. Another one of those, I'm not like this, let me choke on your balls girls .

"Can you give a man a minute to get his nut?" Hendrix shook his head like I'd just pissed in his Cheerios.

"God, you're awful," Monroe said.

"Don't hate the player, Red." He patted her shoulder. "Hate the motherfucking game."

My brother was an absolute idiot. I gave him a shove. "Ten minutes and we're out."

I led Monroe into the living room and pulled her into my lap on one of the leather sofas. She went rigid and folded her arms over her chest. Max stood at the far side of the room, chugging beer. I placed my hand on Monroe's leg, and she tensed even more. I didn't miss the subtle hitch of her breath as I trailed my finger a little higher. There was the curiosity to go farther until my hand sank between her thighs and I had her moaning.

My gaze dropped to her mouth, and I thought about how good her lips felt. "Tell me you didn't like it."

"Didn't like what?"

"That kiss."

She hesitated. "Do you care if I liked it or not?"

"What if I do?"

"Then that would make you less of an asshole."

I swept a finger over her bottom lip. "What if I wanted to do it again?"

Her cheeks stained pink as she focused on my mouth. "I—"

"Zepp!" Leah's annoying high-pitched voice nearly split my ears.

"Great." Monroe rolled her eyes and pushed to her feet, swaying a little. "I need to find Jade."

The second Monroe had left, Leah crossed her arms over her chest and shot daggers at me. "You'd rather screw that trash than me? I can't believe you, Zepp!"

Shouldn't have been hard for her to believe. Monroe was prettier. Smarter. Why wouldn't I pick her over Leah's shallow, fake ass?

"I actually like her." I shoved up from the couch. "You were just a hole to stick my dick in, which technically makes you the trash, Leah."

I didn't wait for a reaction; I got my ass out of there. I was halfway down the hall when Hendrix shouted, "cocksucker" from somewhere upstairs. A naked guy flew over the railing, landing on the hardwoods below with a thud. Hendrix launched himself from the first-floor landing with a war cry, landed in a crouch, then leaped onto the guy, whaling on his face.

Several Barrington's guys shouldered through the crowd. One grabbed Hendrix by the shoulders, and Hendrix busted his nose. The other guys latched onto my brother, and I latched onto them.

Fists swung. Heads butted. Blood splattered. Shit around us broke. Eventually, I was ripped off by Bellamy, while the group of rich guys wallowed on the floor.

"Get outta here, Hunt," one of the letterman-jacketed pricks shouted, keeping his distance. "We'll call the cops."

"Just say the word, Zepp." Hendrix swiped at the blood on his shirt. "I'll fuck the little rich boys up."

The group of guys hid behind their threat like pansy-ass pussies.

These little bitches would call the cops. And we'd end up in jail. Which meant we needed to get the rest of the group and get the hell out of there. I spit a mouthful of blood to the floor. "Where's my girl?"

One of the guys that had been with Max at Frank's chicken grinned. "Oh. She decided to stay."

Bellamy came out of nowhere and gripped my shoulder before I could nail the guy in the face. "Not worth it, dude. Barrington cops..."

I tore away, glancing between Bellamy and Hendrix. "Handle this shit while I go find Monroe."

I went from the kitchen to the basement to the study, and I didn't find her—or Harford.

I made my way up the curved stairwell and pushed open the first door I came to. Wolf had a girl perched on the bathroom counter, skirt balled around her waist and thong around her ankles. She screamed, but he kept pumping into her while grinning at me.

"We gotta go," I said. "Help me find Monroe."

He picked up his pace. "Give me ten seconds."

"Now, Wolf!" I shouted, turning away and heading to the closed door at the end of the hallway.

I could barely make out Monroe's voice telling someone to get off. And my foot went through the door. It swung open on busted hinges, light from the hallway spilling into the dark room.

Harford jumped up from the bed, eyes wide as he backed away from Monroe.

"Don't touch me," she slurred. Then did a piss-poor job of sitting up.

Adrenaline zapped through me like a livewire. There were no thoughts, just a roaring in my ears like a freight train.

"You motherfucker!" I rounded the bed and busted Harford right in the temple, and he collapsed to the floor in a heap. The urge to beat that bastard within an inch of his life ate away at me, but I needed to get Monroe out of there.

"Zepp?" She frowned, her eyes half-closed. "Iwannago." Her words ran together.

I scooped her dead weight into my arms. Pissed that I had let her out of my sight. "We're going," I said, heading out of the room with my chest in a vice grip. Knowing there was no way she could have drunk enough to be that messed up.

Wolf was on his way down the steps, face bloodied, and Jade unconscious in his arms. He glanced back at me. "This is fucked up, man. Fucked up." When we hit the bottom of the stairs, we walked into absolute chaos.

Groups of people were fighting. Beer bottles smashed the walls, girls cried, and Hendrix screamed at the top of his lungs while Bellamy cracked a vase over some guy's head.

Someone yelled, "Five-O is coming. Five-O."

"Let's go," I shouted to the guys, following Wolf to the door.

Outside, people dashed across the lawn, dropping beer cans and plastic cups. Engines roared, and headlights flashed before cars peeled off in a cloud of dust. The street in front of Harford's house looked like something out of the Fast and the Furious .

We piled into Wolf's car. Cop sirens wailed in the distance, and we quickly pulled off amidst the BMWs and Mercedes.

By the time we got back to the house, Monroe was out of it. And Jade was one-hundred percent unconscious. I tucked Monroe into my bed, guilt gnawing away at me. If I hadn't messed with her about going to that stupid party or hadn't let her walk away from me…

The image of Harford on top of her played on a loop through my head, and that was when I decided that I was going to fuck up Harford. He would have raped Monroe and gotten away with it. Tomorrow, had she remembered what happened, it would be his word against hers. I couldn't change what had happened to Monroe, but I sure as shit was going to make sure Harford paid.

That next afternoon, I grabbed my baseball bat, rode back to Barrington, and did exactly that.