26. Monroe

TWENTY-SIX

monroe

Crystal dropped me off in the early hours of the morning. The security light from the neighbor's trailer flashed on, reflecting over the shit-brown paint of Jerry's car. Great. Just what I needed. I expected him to be passed out on the couch. What I didn't expect was the cardboard boxes stacked around the tiny living room. A horrible feeling crawled up my throat. I had seen this time and time again—my mom was moving him in. And that was always where the problems started, when they thought they were my new step-daddy.

I refused to let Jerry ruin the little glow of happiness Zepp had planted in me, though, so I ignored it and went to my room. I pulled the wad of money from my bra and knelt next to the chest of drawers, stuffing the cash through a little hole on the backboard. Then I undressed and got into the shower, washing away the heavy makeup and the scent of cologne that clung to me.

When I got into bed, I wished I was at Zepp's house, in his bed. For the first time, I understood my mom's string of shitty men. Maybe this sense of belonging was what she had been chasing—someone to give a shit about her. But she always picked the wrong guys, time and time again.

The next morning, I went to grab a Pop-Tart from the cabinet and was greeted by Jerry in his ratty, old man boxers. I wanted to tell him to get the hell out, but I knew better than to make enemies with someone I now lived with. My life was already hard enough. So I grabbed the pastry and my bookbag, and I left.

I zoned out during first period, doodling in my notebook while I tried to ignore the anxiety Jerry created permanently being at the trailer.

"Assignments will be set today," Mrs. Johnson said, slamming a book down on her desk with a thud. "Take your seats. I will be calling your name, along with your partner's. You will have three weeks to complete a ten-thousand-word essay on the effect of social media on social and political reasoning."

She picked up a piece of paper from her desk. "Laura Smith and Bobby Jones…" I scribbled more shapes along the edge of my paper until I heard my name. "Monroe James and Chase Matthews." Oh, great. Just great.

My gaze swung across the room to Chase. He glanced over his shoulder at me, a miserable expression on his face. We hadn't spoken since he had attempted to apologize and Zepp had punched him.

"Pair up and start discussing your project."

I didn't move. After a few minutes, Chase shoved to his feet, dropping into the seat beside me.

"Maybe she'll swap us if you ask…" he started.

"What? Don't want to work with me?"

His palm slapped down on his desk. "I tried to apologize to you, Monroe. And you sicced your boyfriend on me."

"Oh my God." I glared at him. "I did not sic Zepp on you. He asked me why you were apologizing because he thought I'd screwed you." I tapped my pencil over my notebook. "Trust me, the truth was a far better option."

"You realize he's a psycho, right?"

"I'm aware."

"And yet, you're dating him. Never took you for that kind of girl." The judgmental look he gave me set me on edge.

I tossed my pencil at him, and it bounced off his chest. "My dating life is none of your business. I still haven't forgiven you for being a prick."

"I'm sorry, okay?" He threw up his hands. "I shouldn't have said what I did about Harford."

"But you did."

"And you wouldn't let me apologize. How long have we been friends?" He stared at me like he wanted an answer. "You can't give me one mistake? So freaking stubborn." We had been friends for a long time. In some ways, Chase had been the most consistent thing in my life.

"Fine, I accept your apology. You're still a prick. Better?"

A small smile touched his lips, and he pushed a book in front of me. "We gonna do this project now, or what?"

"Fine."

By the time the bell rang, we barely had an outline together. Chase glanced up while gathering his books. "Guess we'll need to work on this outta class, huh?"

"I guess."

On a smile, he left the classroom. I stood beside my desk, clutching my books to my chest before I finally filed into the hall. Chase was my friend, and there was nothing Zepp could say to change that, but I wasn't excited about the guaranteed level of psycho this would trigger.

Zepp leaned against the wall outside of the classroom. His arm immediately came around my waist, creeping lower until it was on my ass. "All I've thought about this morning was fucking you."

Heat spread over my skin. I had so little control over how my body reacted to him; it was embarrassing. "I'm not fucking you in the girls' bathroom, before you ask."

"What about the art supply closet?" We were still walking down the hall when his lips pressed against my throat. "I don't know if I can wait until after school."

"You waited for weeks," I said. "You can manage a few hours."

He pressed me against the nearby lockers, caging me against the metal. My pulse picked up at the memory of his body over mine, now branded into my mind.

"I really can't." His nose skirted along my throat, warm breath fanning over my skin while he pressed against me. "Come on. Give me five minutes." He nipped at my neck.

My fingers gripped his shirt as my pulse skittered. He was persuasive; I had to give him that. His touch trailed down my side, my thigh, then disappeared beneath my skirt. My breath caught when his fingertips brushed against me. "You're wet, Roe."

I was. In the middle of the hallway, with Zepp's hand between my legs, my heart ready to bang out of my chest at the idea of getting caught.

He pushed into me. "I could just fuck you right here…"

I clamped my thighs around his hand, but it did nothing to stop him. "You're awful."

"Not what you said the other night." Another thrust of his fingers. A door at the end of the hallway opened.

"Mr. Hunt!" Mrs. Smith shouted. On a smirk, he pulled away his hand, then spun on his heel to face the teacher, now storming down the hall. "What are you thinking?"

"That I wanna fuck my girlfriend."

I wanted the floor to swallow me. God, he really was awful.

She froze mid-stride, her weathered face reddening. "That's detention! Come by my class to pick up your slip."

"Whatever." He waved her off, then turned back to me and grabbed my hand. "You coming over after school since I can't fuck you in the school?"

I shook my head on a smirk. "After your detention?"

"I'm not picking up the slip." He gave me another kiss, his fingers digging into my waist. "God, you make me crazy."

My stupid heart tripped over itself. Then he pushed away, ducking into one of the classrooms.