2. Bellamy

TWO

bellamy

TWO DAYS LATER

The halls of Dayton High slowly thinned out. The bang of lockers closing grew quiet.

I took the copies of the history exam I'd stolen earlier from Weaver's class and tucked them into my back pocket before slamming my locker door. Kids paid me ten bucks a copy, and this was Dayton. Crap like this was the only way I survived.

I skirted through a group of students gathered outside the library, catching up with Hendrix and Wolf to head to our routine after-school activity—detention.

"Hey, Bell," Hendrix nudged me. A shit-eating grin spread over his face, and Wolf shook his head. "Check this. Betty Newman—" his words fell short when Nikki strutted past in her cheerleading practice shorts and tank, glaring at me like she'd slit my jugular if she could. "Whoa…" Hendrix's gaze followed her as she rounded the corner. "Pepperoni Nips is looking at you like she wants to hack off your dick and shove it up your asshole."

Wolf chuckled. Nikki acted like a woman scorned, but we'd never dated. Never talked on the phone. It was a random, drunken hookup gone wrong. One I was still paying for.

"No shit," I said. "She followed me out to Nash's van last weekend when I was trying to hook up with some hot-ass girl. And she lost her shit."

"Wait." Hendrix elbowed me. "Who'd you hook up with?"

The hottest girl I'd ever laid eyes on in my life. A girl who still had me thinking of her two days later… "Some rich girl," I said, leaning against the cinder block wall outside the lunchroom.

"A rich girl?" A devious glint sparked to life in Hendrix's eyes. "From Barrington?"

Maybe she'd gone to Barrington, but seeing as how she was twenty-one... "Don't know, man. She's older."

Hendrix punched my shoulder. "I hate you. Hooking up with cougars and shit."

"Twenty-one is not a cougar," Wolf said.

"Whatever, man. Still older. It's fine because, like I was saying…Betty Newman."

Wolf sighed, slapping a palm over his face. "Here we go about Betty…She's in band, Hendrix. She plays the tuba. She's like—"

"Exactly, man. She's in band . Haven't you seen that movie about all those band kids that get freaky with their band instruments?" Hendrix flattened himself to the lunchroom doors, crotch-thrusting with a laugh.

Wolf leaned in beside me. "Is he talking about an actual movie or porn or what?"

Hendrix moved away from the doors with a scowl. " American Pie, you uncultured cocksucker. Band kids are into some kinky shit." Then he clapped a hand to my shoulder, staring me dead in the eye like he was about to hand over some life-changing revelation. "Betty Newman takes it in the ass instead of the cooch."

I knocked his hand away. "So?"

"So?" Hendrix gaped for a second. His gaze pinged between Wolf and me. "The fact that you just said so disappoints me, Bell."

Mrs. Smith parted the sea of students crowding the hallway. "Outta the way." She unlocked the door, chugging a thermos everyone knew was filled with vodka, and students begrudgingly filed in.

"Sit your back ends down and be quiet," she grumbled. "Think about whatever bullshit you did to end up in here." Her purse hit the table with a thud before she sank to a stool, thermos already halfway to her lips. "No talking. Just reflecting."

Reflecting. Half the kids in here had been arrested more than once. No way in hell detention would make any of us reflect on anything. It was Dayton. There wasn't shit to reflect on.

Five minutes into detention, I'd made a quick eighty bucks from the copied tests, and Hendrix had talked some band girl into sending him a picture of her tits, which was why his phone was currently shoved in my face. I slapped his hand away just as the cafeteria doors creaked open and Hendrix let out a catcall.

Still in her short-shorts from cheerleading practice, Nora Locke stood at the door, propping it open with her hip. "And this"—she waved an unenthusiastic hand across the room—"is the cafeteria. The food's disgusting. So, don't expect much. Everything about this school is shit."

When she went to move back into the hall, I noticed a girl beside her. Dark hair. Hot-pink dress. Sexy as hell. It was just a glimpse, but a girl as hot as Genevieve—all it took was a glance to recognize her.

Nora was the ambassador, and the only reason she ever gave someone a tour was if they were unfortunate enough to be transferred. Twenty-one my ass. If that girl were about to start at Dayton, she was as good as mine, and my dick knew it because he rose to attention.

"Is that fresh meat?" Hendrix stared at the door as it swung closed behind the two girls. "Oh shit. Did you see her, Bell?"

I'd seen her all right. Tits and pussy and all…

"It's like manna from heaven." Hendrix raised his hands in makeshift praise. "Fresh meat this late in the school year!"

"Yeah, I saw her," I said, already pushing to my feet and asking to be excused for the restroom.

I followed the sound of their voices to the front of the school, stopping by the lockers as Nora gave a peppy wave. And I could now say, without a reasonable doubt, the girl heading through the front doors of Dayton High was Genevieve. When she exited the building, I was right after her, crossing the parking lot in the sticky Alabama heat.

With each step I took, her steps quickened. Then I caught up. "Twenty-one, huh?"

She whipped around with a startled expression and a can of mace held out in front of her like a gun. Her face shifted into an annoyed scowl when her gaze landed on my face, and I fought a laugh. Poor little rich girl was out of her element. That was for damn sure.

She dropped the mace into her purse with a huff. "What the hell are you doing here?" Like she was the one who belonged in this dump?

"I think the one of us who's outta place is you," I said, dragging my gaze over her curves.

"Great. Of course, you go to the shit hole school. Why wouldn't you?" She mumbled about how awful her life was, marching off with a sway of hips. "I'm not in the mood," she said, then gave a flippant wave over her shoulder. "So, run back to your girlfriend and leave me alone."

She was mad about Nikki. That was a definite win.

I started after her again. "Oh, someone's salty as fuck."

"Or—annoyed that her poor choices are coming back to haunt her."

"Poor choices?" I scoffed, staring at her ass as I followed her between two beat-up cars. "Since when has an orgasm been a poor choice?" Because she came faster than NASA could launch a rocket.

She spun around and jabbed a finger against my chest. "Since the guy is clearly cheating on his girlfriend while giving it."

I slapped her hand away. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Oh? Does she know she's not your girlfriend? Or is it just when it's convenient for you?" A condescending smirk cut across her lips. "Because no girl is going to chase a guy into a parking lot like that when he's not her boyfriend."

The self-righteous, judgmental glare she shot at me lit my short fuse. It wasn't like she had been Mother Teresa that night, riding my face like she was the Lone Ranger and I, her trusted steed. If this girl wanted to judge my character, then I was absolutely going to judge hers.

I narrowed my gaze. "What kinda girl goes out to a van with a guy who offers her a shitty pick-up line?" Yeah, it was shitty of me...

"That—is not the point." A slight red tinged her cheeks. "I was having a very bad night. And you..."

"From the way it felt when you came on my face," I said, "seems I made that very bad night a helluva lot better." With one swift movement, I pinned her against a dirty car window.

And like I knew she would, she reacted. Latching onto my biceps and pushing, pulling. Pushing…like she couldn't decide if she wanted me closer or farther away. Rich pricks weren't as gifted as I was in the arena of vulgarity, so if I had to guess, my ability to make her hot and repulsed at the same time must be a new sensation. So why stop?

"And I'd gladly do it again. Right here." I moved my hands to her waist, then nudged her legs apart with my knee. "Right now. On the hood of this car, if you want."

"I…"

"You what?" I breathed against her lips.

Genevieve's hold on my arm tightened. That's right, baby girl, try to fight it. The way her chest rose on uneven swells made my dick harder than concrete, and the thought of slipping my dick between her glossy lips sprung to life. My fingers twitched over her sides, the primitive part of me begging to give in. This girl got me going, unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I contemplated what filthy line I could throw at her next, but a string of chatter broke through the silence. Genevieve went rigid.

The conversation fell quiet, and I glanced over my shoulder at Nikki, surrounded by a group of her annoying friends. "Are you serious right now?" Her arms crossed her chest while her gaze pinged between Genevieve and me.

There was one way to quickly clear up this misunderstanding, both between Genevieve and me and Nikki and me. "Hey, Nikki," I said, my hold on Genevieve tightening. "Since you screwed this up last weekend by being a psycho, can you tell her that you're not my girlfriend?"

Nikki's eyes narrowed to angry slits. "Fuck you, Bellamy." Then she marched off, her troop of mean girls in tow.

"See. Not my girlfriend." I smiled.

With a roll of her eyes, Genevieve shoved me back a step. "You're a dick," she said, brushing past me.

She could call me a dick all day long, but that girl was one hundred percent interested, and I was one hundred percent going to ruin her.