33. Zepp

THIRTY-THREE

zepp

They say it takes twenty-one days for something to become a habit. It had been well over twenty-one days of Monroe staying at my house, and I found myself more than happy with the routine of waking up next to her. Screwing around in the kitchen with her. Going to school and coming home with her. For the first time since my mom had passed away, I was happy.

Hendrix sat beside me, playing PlayStation—losing. And bitching about losing.

A charred scent wafted in from the kitchen. "What the hell is that?" Hendrix said, jabbing his fingers over the controller.

"Roe!" I shouted, focusing on shooting Hendrix's avatar. "Something's burning."

When she didn't answer, I tossed the controller down and went to the kitchen. Whatever was in the oven was smoking. I turned the temperature off and opened the window over the sink. Monroe was at the plastic patio table on the back porch, hunched over papers.

"Whatever's in the oven is burned," I said when I stepped outside.

She looked up on a groan. "Pizza?"

I laughed, rounding the table and stopping behind her chair, glancing at the half-completed form in front of her. "What's that?"

"Scholarship application."

Alabama State University was at the top of the page in bold type. "Yeah? I thought you said Dixon?" Not that I was upset. Alabama State was a thirty-minute drive, and Dixon was all the way in Florida.

"I thought so too." She finished a line, then dropped her pen to the table. "But Alabama has its merits."

I draped my arms around her, leaning down to kiss the side of her throat. "Yeah? Like?"

"Well, it has a good business program…"

I gave her another kiss, slipping my hand down the front of her shirt. "And it's close." I squeezed her tit.

"And there's this guy here…" She tilted her head to the side and grabbed my hair, pulling me closer. "The sex is definitely a selling point."

"Definitely." I smirked against her neck, grabbing the back of her chair and spinning it around. "Want a quick reminder of just how good it is?" I slid my hand along her thigh, getting so close to where I wanted to be before the back door slammed open.

"Yippy-ki-yay, motherfuckers," Hendrix shouted before popping me on the ass with a dishtowel, then darting back into the house.

I took off after him, catching him by the front door and tackling him to the ground. "I'm gonna beat the shit out of you, Hendrix, if you don't stop being a cockblock." I punched him in the shoulder a few times.

"Man, you're sitting on my junk."

When I stood up, Wolf's truck pulled into the drive. "Unlock the door, dipshit," I called over my shoulder before I went back to the couch to play a game.

Wolf strolled in a couple of minutes later and plopped down beside me, snagging the controller. His brow wrinkled, and he took a sniff. "What the hell did you set on fire?"

"Monroe burned something."

A few minutes into the game, he exhaled a hard breath. "Dude, I forgot to tell you. Dizzy's dead."

"What?" I looked away from the screen, but Wolf zoned into the TV. Stoned as hell. "Dizzy's dead?"

"Yeah, I think Jerry killed him. Sucks ass."

I dropped my controller and punched him in the shoulder, my pulse ticking up because he'd mentioned Jerry's stupid name. "Shut up, man."

"What the hell, dude?" Wolf scowled, rubbing at his arm. "That hurt."

"Are you serious?" Monroe stepped into the living room doorway. Jaw tensed, face red. "You lied to me."

Great. Here we went. "I did not lie to you."

"Don't give me that shit." Taking a step forward, she jabbed a finger at me. "I asked you if you had anything to do with Jerry getting beat."

Wolf shifted beside me, then stood up, and skirted around Monroe into the kitchen. The backdoor closed, and I swept a hand through my hair before setting my gaze back on an angry Monroe. "And I said I had been with you for the past three days. That wasn't a lie."

"Well, it was an omission! What's the difference?"

That set my skin on fire. I pushed up from the couch and closed the space between us. "A lie of omission, huh? Like you not telling me you got your tits out for old men?"

Oh, that got her. Her nostrils flared, eyes narrowed. "You're gonna bring that up now?"

"Damn right, I am." I backed her across the room. "Because, now that I think about it, that wasn't even a lie by omission. That was a straight-up lie. You said you worked at Cha Chas. So get off your high fucking horse, Monroe."

"Screw you, Zepp. You know damn well why I didn't want to tell you that."

Because she was worried she might lose me. And that's why I wanted Jerry's ass beat. Because I was worried I might lose her, just like I did my mother if he took it too far. That girl was literally everything to me. Every-fucking-thing, and I couldn't imagine my life without her.

"Why did you have to go mess around with Jerry?" There was an edge of hysteria to her tone. "If he finds out you had anything to do with it, you'll be dead, and—"

"Because I fucking love you. Okay?" I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, panic winding through me at the abrupt confession. "I love you, and I'm terrified of losing you. I hoped Dizzy would kill his ass because you wouldn't let me do it, and I can't lose you."

She stilled. "I love you too," she whispered, her teary gaze meeting mine. "I'm scared he's going to get to you. And…I can't."

I pulled her into my arms, resting my chin on the top of her head. "He won't. I promise."

Her arms came around me, clinging to me like I was a lifeline. Just like she was mine.

The next night, Monroe talked me into going to the shitty little carnival set up in the parking lot of the Wal-E-Mart. Hendrix invited himself. I paid for the tickets, eyeing the cracked-out-looking jack-off behind the booth.

"These people put together stuff that spins you around in the air." I nodded toward one of the lit-up rides, twirling and flipping a few stories up. "And you feel like getting on it is a good idea?" I hated carnivals. I hated the smell and the Dayton yokels that came out of the woodworks to get a little rush.

"I mean, they must be safe," Monroe said, her eyes glowing at the sight of all the rides. "Right?"

"They're fine." Hendrix stopped mid-stride, his gaze fixed on the cotton-candy stand—or rather, the blonde dipping the paper cones into the machine. He patted me on the back. "Have fun on your death traps. I've got a cooter to catch." And then he was gone.

"What do you want to ride?" I asked.

"That one." She pointed, and I glanced behind me at some metal shitshow called "The Roundup." Music blasted from it, and the motor made a screeching sound as the thing took off, spinning fast enough to give me vertigo just watching it. On a small sigh, I took her hand and maneuvered through the families with screaming kids. "You aren't going to throw up, are you?"

"I don't know. I've never been on a ride."

I had. Once. My mother had brought Hendrix and me to one of these traveling carnivals when I was seven. We had three tickets, which meant we could ride three rides. All I wanted to ride was the Ferris wheel, but Hendrix cried and made us go on the merry-go-round. Then my mom picked something fast, and Hendrix threw up on me. So no Ferris wheel. I stepped up to the carney and handed him our tickets.

"Well, if you throw up," I said. "Turn your head." I followed her around the metal grate until she found one of the booths she wanted and tucked herself in. I pressed my back against the stall beside her.

Other people filed in, then the worker staggered by, hooking a rinky-dink chain across my hips, then Monroe's. Her brow wrinkled as she watched him go.

"Zepp, why is there just a chain?"

"Still feel safe?" I snorted.

"I'm gonna throw up and direct it at you."

The buzzer sounded, and the machine slowly spun in a circle. By the time it was going fast enough to plaster us to the walls, it lifted into the air, and my stomach churned. My grip on the bars tightened while I fought back the urge to toss the hotdogs I had eaten earlier. Monroe screamed beside me. At least she wasn't going to puke.

We rode just about every ride in that damn park before I managed to drag her to the Ferris wheel. We were next in line when she pulled back on my hand, staring up at the top of it. A breeze picked up, and the metal frame creaked and groaned. "Okay, that one doesn't look safe."

"It doesn't even go fast."

She narrowed her eyes at me and stepped forward. "Fine. But if we die, it's your fault." She had ridden things that had some of the safety straps duct-taped together and she thought this was going to be the one to kill us.

"Whatever, Roe." We took a seat in one of the baskets, and the bar came down over our laps. I tapped the metal with my finger. "Look. Totally safe. No chain," I laughed.

She wobbled the bar. "That's not gonna save us if the whole thing collapses."

Something dropped onto my head, and I looked up.

"Cocksucker!" Hendrix was in the basket above us with a girl, feet dangling. He cackled before tossing another piece of popcorn onto my head.

Monroe looked over her shoulder. "He totally got the cotton candy girl to suck his dick up there."

He probably did. Bastard. "No way a girl could suck a dick that fast."

She bit at her bottom lip, her gaze dropping suggestively to my crotch. "That feels like a challenge." The ride made its way around as people filled up the seats. As soon as we were halfway to the top, Monroe yanked at my belt.

I had always wanted to ride a Ferris wheel, and now I was going to get a blowjob while doing it. I fought a smirk when she pulled me out. "You only got about two minutes," I said.

And down her warm throat I went. I didn't know if it was the music blaring from the speakers, the flash of lights, the open air, or the fact that if anyone looked up, they would absolutely see her head bobbing up and down, but by the time we reached the very top, my hand was on the back of her head, and my head was thrown against the seat.

"Shit," I groaned, my toes curling in my shoes when she took me over the edge.

Monroe sat up, wiped the back of her hand over her mouth, then smiled."That wasn't even two minutes." She cocked a brow on a laugh.

"No, it wasn't." I slid my hand over her thigh, dipping underneath her skirt. "Give me thirty seconds."