32. Monroe

THIRTY-TWO

monroe

The party had thinned out, except for the girls who still lingered nearby, waiting for their friend to get finished with Hendrix. Pretty sure Wolf had another in the spare room. I didn't get it. They were assholes. These girls had no shame.

I took a drag off the joint Zepp offered me, feeling the weed trickle over me like a warm blanket. Some of the other Barrington guys had come by earlier to scrape the football players off of Zepp's lawn. I smiled at the thought of Max sitting there, like a spoiled little brat, waiting for someone to come to rescue him because his legs were still too messed up to drive. The fact that he came for round two had me questioning whether Zepp might have given him mild brain damage the first time.

The thud of Hendrix's headboard silenced just before someone pounded on the door. None of the guys made any effort to move. They were all probably too high. On a sigh, I pushed out of Zepp's lap and answered it, nearly shitting myself when I saw that asshole police officer, Jacobs, standing on the porch. He stood with his fingers through his belt loops and a smug grin on his face. My pulse ticked up with a thread of panic. Jacobs could probably smell the weed on my breath. Hell, there was probably a cloud of smoke pouring through the cracked front door. I glanced over his shoulder at the now empty lawn, the only evidence I could see were the tire tracks in the overgrown grass.

"You sure are hangin' out with those Hunt boys a lot." He hitched up his pants, then glared over my shoulder inside the house.

"Is having a boyfriend illegal now?" I half laughed.

"Didn't your momma teach you to make better decisions?" My momma was a hooker. His gaze veered back to me. "They're gonna get you in trouble."

"Thanks for the advice." I offered him a fake smile. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Seems there was a confrontation here earlier. Which means, I need to talk to Mr. Hunt."

"Sure. Let me get him." I shut the door on him and hurried down the hall.

Zepp and Bellamy were sitting on the couch, passing another joint back and forth. I snatched the joint from Bellamy's hand.

"That cop is at the door," I whisper-shouted, panic lancing through me as I ran to the kitchen and chucked the weed into the garbage disposal.

I walked back into the hallway just as Zepp opened the door, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah?"

"Heard you had a little disagreement over here earlier today?" Jacobs said.

"I think we all came to an understanding."

"That a fact?" He paused. "That blood on your porch?"

"Probably." Zepp huffed, leaning against the open door, and I shifted a little closer.

"Assault has a hefty jail time, son."

"Yeah? So those Barrington fucks gonna spend some time behind bars? They showed up. On my lawn. With bats."

A few seconds ticked by. "Now why on earth would they do that? Wouldn't have nothing to do with that quarterback of theirs who got beat, would it?"

"Do you have a warrant or what? Because I'm not trying to shoot the shit with you."

"That girlfriend of yours…" Jacobs clucked his tongue. "Shame if she got tangled up in a mess due to you." God, he was a bastard. The porch creaked before his footfalls disappeared down the steps and Zepp slammed the door.

"Asshole!" He placed his arm around my shoulder on his way back to the living room. "Tell me you didn't throw away my weed, Roe?"

"I panicked!"

He pressed a condescending kiss to my forehead. "You're so fucking cute."

"All right, Al Capone."

Days had passed since the encounter with Jacobs—days since I'd stolen the Challenger. The kid had finally stopped texting me after a few clipped responses, and I'd told my boss at The White Rabbit to shove it. The morning sun crept in through the window, and I rolled over, glancing at Zepp's sleeping form. He was almost cute in sleep, innocent, though I knew that was far from the truth. I didn't want to wake him, so I grabbed my phone and started scrolling. After a few minutes, I checked my email, my pulse beating a little faster when I saw the message from two days ago.

It was from The Elizabeth Roux School of Art. My stomach knotted when I opened it, skimming over the body of the email:

This level of talent is always welcome at our school. We encourage and invite you to complete an application for one of our scholarships. We hope to see your exceptional work on our campus next fall.

Hope blossomed in my chest. This meant we wouldn't have to do a long-distance relationship. Zepp could go to Elizabeth Roux while I attended Dixon. We could both get out of Dayton.

I waited until the sun's rays inched across the bed before sliding my hand over Zepp's stomach. Anywhere within a foot of his dick was usually enough to wake him.

He rolled over, his lips seeking out my neck on autopilot. "Hey," he mumbled, then grabbed my hand and placed it on his hard dick. He was so predictable.

I pulled away and touched his cheek. "Wait, I have something to tell you."

"Okay…" He caught my wrist again, putting my hand down his boxers, this time with a smile. "You can still talk with your hand on my dick."

"Fine," I sighed. "So, I sent an email to an art school in Florida." I gave him a pump. "And they want you to apply for a scholarship."

His expression went blank for a second before the dark storm clouds rolled in. "You did what?"

I stilled, suddenly unsure of myself. "This is a good thing… Right?"

A deep line sank between his brows, and he grabbed my hand, yanking it away from him before he sat up in bed. He had never taken my hand off his dick before. Shit .

"You sent them one of my pictures? Why the hell would you do that?"

I was so confused. "I mean, a picture of a picture. It's not—"

"I don't give a shit. Those are personal, Monroe!" He threw the covers off, getting out of bed and dragging an agitated hand through his unruly hair.

"And if you get a scholarship?"

"If I wanted a scholarship, don't you think I would have applied for one myself." He glared at me, anger mixed with hurt. "I'm not stupid. I know I'm good enough."

"Then why don't you want it?" My anger and frustration spilled out. He was so unbelievably talented. And his aspirations amounted to this. To Dayton.

"Why the hell would I want to go to college?" He paced for a second.

"Why wouldn't you, if someone offered you a full ride?"

His nostrils flared, fists clenched. "Because I don't want to fucking go. If I did, I would take care of it myself."

A sinking feeling settled in my gut. Zepp was going to stay in Dayton. The very place I was so desperate to get away from. More than that, though, he had an opportunity to do something he loved, and to be with me, to get out of here. And he didn't want any of it.

"I can't believe you did that." He shook his head.

"Really?" I got out of bed, turning my back on him while I got dressed.

He had pissed me off, but more than that, I was disappointed, and I didn't want him to see it. I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Seconds later, and he was standing at the toilet, pissing.

"I can't believe you would just take the liberty to. Damn, Roe."

I spat into the sink and glared at him in the mirror. "Take the liberty to what? Give a shit?"

"That's not giving a shit, Monroe. That's wanting me to be someone I'm not." He shook his dick before flushing the toilet and storming out.

Is that what I was doing? Did I want to change him? I didn't think so, but evidently, he did. How did this go so wrong? I really thought he'd be happy.

His bedroom door slammed shut, loud music cut on, and I made my way downstairs. Zepp and I always went to school together. But instead of waiting on him, I grabbed my backpack and my keys, and I left alone.

Zepp skipped the class we had together, which did nothing but add to the unsettled feeling churning in my gut. By the change of class at lunchtime, that painful twinge had only grown worse. I shoved my books into my locker, bending the pages. It had been a long time since I'd been truly scared of anything, but now a reality and its infinite possibilities terrified me. Zepp had become necessary to me, like air. And yet this niggling feeling told me that he didn't need me the same way. It wasn't even about college. It was about the opportunity to be with me in Florida, and his rejection of it hurt more than it should have. I slammed my locker and met Jade's concerned gaze.

"I'm going to go to the library. Chase and I need to put our project together and write a summary."

She lifted a brow. "You've been weird all day, and Zepp isn't hanging around like your personal guard dog. What's going on?"

"Nothing. It's fine. I'll see you later." I walked off before she could ask any more questions, texting Chase on my way to the library. I told myself it was because I didn't want to have to stay after school. But truthfully, I was avoiding Zepp. My emotions were raw right now, and I didn't want him to see them written all over my face.

I ducked into the library, trailing my fingers along the spines of books as I inhaled the dusty scent of old paper. A couple sat at one of the tables in the study area, making out. They didn't bother to draw a breath as I passed. The computer table in the back corner by the window was empty, and I dropped into the seat. The machine had just booted up when several books and a king-sized bag of chips landed on the desk beside me.

"Do we have to work over lunch?" Chase slumped into the plastic chair.

"Well, this way, we won't have to work later."

"Right. Don't want to piss off Zepp." The annoyance in his tone did not go unmissed.

"This—" I gestured between us—"Has nothing to do with Zepp and everything to do with you becoming a football prick." I shoved his shoulder when his expression hardened, but he didn't crack a smile.

"I never changed, Moe." And this was something I was absolutely not in the mood to discuss.

"Whatever. Doesn't matter." I pulled up our assignment on the computer. "So, the summary…"

After fifteen minutes, I was typing in the concluding sentence. That was when I felt Chase's eyes on me. "What?" I stared straight ahead at the computer and jabbed at the period key. "Do I have something on my face?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," I said, my eyes fixed on the screen.

"You act like I don't know you, Moe."

For a second, I found myself wanting to talk to him, to tell him everything. I guess I was just so lost and out of my depth with Zepp, and I wanted someone to tell me what to do. Chase knew me in ways even Jade couldn't. He'd known me before life became really hard. When I was just a little girl with simple dreams, untainted by the adult understanding of Dayton and what my mom did. What was the saying? Innocence, once lost, can never be regained. Ain't that the truth.

"I made a mistake," I said. "And now, I don't know how to fix it."

"Well, did you apologize?"

"No," I mumbled.

He looked at me like I stupid. "Well, maybe start there."

I really was stupid. "Thanks, Chase." I fought a smile and pushed to my feet. "I think we'll get a good grade on this." I left him at the table, gathering his things as I headed through the bookshelves to the door. There were still a few minutes of lunch left, which meant I could talk to Zepp.

But I didn't have to go to the cafeteria to find him. I stepped through the library doors, greeted by Zepp leaned against the wall right across from me, thick arms folded over his chest. Dark, brooding, and dangerous as always, but that air of danger seemed far more intense right now.

Like an idiot, I stood there, fiddling with a strand of hair, unsure what to say or do. "Hey." I took a small step forward when the door creaked open behind me, and Chase walked out.

Zepp gave him a fleeting glance, then shook his head and pushed off the wall.

"Zepp!" I jogged after him, grabbing his arm, though I didn't actually know what to say.

"What, Monroe?" He glared down at me not so differently than he had that night I'd stolen that Hurst. Like he hated the idea of me.

He was still mad. Zepp made me vulnerable, and while part of me needed to fix this, the other part told me to let go, that it would be best if we just ended this now before I was any more attached. Everything in life had taught me that Zepp would leave, that it was inevitable. And as the silence stretched between us, that fear dug beneath my skin.

"Do you want to break up with me?" My heart let out an accusatory thump like I was a traitor for saying the words.

His back hit the wall of lockers. "That easy, huh?"

"No, it's not easy. I'm asking you."

Seconds ticked by. Seconds where I felt like an exposed nerve.

"You need to calm the hell down. I don't want to break up with you." He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me and tugging me against him. "I'm just pissed."

My forehead rested against his throat. I inhaled the scent of leather and smoke that was all Zepp.

My fingers twisted in his shirt. "I don't want you to be someone you aren't."

"Okay." His chest rose on a hard sigh.

I hated that he sounded so unsure of himself. His lips brushed my forehead, and the little knot in my chest eased. He felt like home when I'd never truly had one, and I wasn't sure that was a good thing.