9. Bellamy

NINE

bellamy

"She wasn't dealing weed!" some kid named Dickey shouted, cowering into the locker to block himself from a punch.

And that right there was absolute shit. The rumor—yes, rumor —that some kid had been pushing weed through Frank's had caught on like wildfire. Which meant no one had been selling weed through the drive-thru.

"I mean…" Wolf shrugged his shoulder while Hendrix held the guy to the wall. "No one's said they actually bought any…"

I moved toward the kid, bringing myself eye-level with his ready-to-shit-on-himself expression. "How sure are you?"

"Nikki sucked my dick for me to say it. I'm patient zero." The guy flinched like he expected me to punch him, and when I didn't, the word vomit spewed. "I didn't even know a Drew. I just thought it was some guy Nikki was mad at, and I just figured it was just a lie. I'm sorry. I just really wanted my first blowjob, man."

First blowjob. Jesus Christ. I nodded at Hendrix, and he reluctantly let the guy go. "Bullshit, Bellamy," he huffed, pointing at the kid slowly creeping along the wall of lockers. "He should've gotten two black eyes. Not just one."

Then the kid shot off, sneakers squeaking over the tiled floor as he rounded the corner.

Wolf clapped a hand onto my shoulder. "And the level of psycho just moved to ten: sucking dick like a crack whore to spread a stupid rumor."

I jerked away from his hold and started down the hall, fuming, even though I'd done what needed to be done to save face. Regardless. If a rumor starts that someone's dealing, we have to handle it. But where most kids shit their pants trying to convince us it's bullshit the second we look at them, Drew had antagonized me. Then gotten me arrested and pissed me off to the point that I committed a fucking felony by breaking into her house.

Maybe I'd kill her and Nikki both.

"I'll see you guys later." Wolf ducked into a classroom, while Hendrix followed behind me, mumbling about not getting to beat that kid's ass. The farther down the hall I went, that anger dissipated into something else. Jesus Christ—I stopped mid-stride, patting my tightening chest. That was guilt. Guilt! Over what? Getting her fired and destroying her house because she wanted to...do whatever it was Drew did. That was bullshit. She brought that on herself.

Hendrix punched me in the gut. "Why are you at her locker?"

Because I put time into messing up her life up when she wasn't doing shit. "Go to class, Hendrix."

His eyes slowly widened. Then he shoved me. "Oh. Hell no, man. Do not go all soft on her because you wanna piece of that ass. She stepped on your rug." He tapped a toe over the tiles. "You can't be hunching the ones that'll step on your rug."

I shoved him. "I'm not going fucking soft. Go to class, would you?"

But of course, he didn't. Instead, he banged his forehead against Drew's locker. "She got you arrested, cumstain. Where's the retaliation? The bloodshed? The war?"

"We broke into her house, dipshit," I said. "And demolished it. What else do you want to do?" I stared down the bustling hallway, searching out Drew's perfect curves. "Burn her car?"

"Well, to start with. Yes…"

I leaned against the locker and shook my head. There was no pleasing Hendrix, especially since his brother was no longer around to rein his ass in. "We're not burning her car—or her house. It's over with, man. We scared the shit outta her, and she wasn't even doing anything."

He grabbed his head like he was trying to hold in a nuclear explosion. "Cocksucker! Who cares? That's even worse! She wasn't doing diddle-fuck-what, and she still—" He hopped up and down, slamming his feet over the floor. "Feet. On. Rug. What are you gonna let her do next? Take your balls and hand-milk them for every precious drop of jizz you've got?"

I just wanted answers, and dipshit here would never get that. "Go to class, asshole."

Huffing, he slowly moved away from the lockers, pointing at me. "Whipped by a pussy you haven't even pounded. That's sick, man." He kept backing down the hall. "Absolutely sick."

When Zepp got out of prison, I was strangling him for beating Hendrix with that wiffleball bat when we were kids.

I waited at Drew's locker, replaying the way her breath caught when I slammed her against that wall. I was still going to fuck her; that much was for sure. Drew stepped through the crowd, and our eyes locked. The rhythm of her steps faltered for a split second before her shoulders pushed back and her chin lifted. Like she was trying to prove she wasn't scared of me. And when she brushed right past me, she made a point to glare at me.

"What do you want?" she asked, yanking open her locker.

There was no witty dig. No sarcasm. Just a dry, monotone question. And from what I knew of this girl, that was very unlike her. "You weren't dealing weed." That statement should have been followed with, I'm sorry, but those words just weren't ready to come out.

"No shit." Anger rippled across her face as she slammed her locker door. "The Barrington girl who doesn't need money wasn't dealing weed. Did you come to that realization all by your bad self?"

And...she was back, as was my anger. My jaw clenched, my gaze tightened on hers. The girl had no humility, so why I'd even let a seed of guilt take root in my chest was beyond me. "You didn't even try to deny it, Drew."

All she did was roll her eyes, then went to step away, like I would let her. Oh, no, this girl had a thing or two to learn about the hierarchy of Dayton. I grabbed her shoulder and spun her back against the lockers. "What was it you said to me?" I brought my face close enough to hers I could smell the strawberry gloss coating her lips. "Something like, ‘What if I don't care about your warning?'"

She shoved against my chest, but I didn't budge. Instead, I placed my lips by her ear, unable to resist the temptation to nip at her lobe before mocking her, "What are you gonna do, Bellamy?'" I shifted my position to glare at her. "That was stupid."

"You broke into my freaking house. You're a psycho." She attempted to shake free of my hold, but I held tight. "Let go of me," she said.

The image of her in that towel, hair soaking wet and skin coated in moisture, leaped to the forefront of my mind. Directly followed by the reaction she had when I wrapped my hand around her throat. She'd liked that bit of my breaking and entering. "Don't think I didn't notice the little hitch to your breath when I put that bat between your legs." I lifted a brow. "You like this shit."

Her eyes narrowed. Her delicate jawline set. Nothing about her anger should have excited me the way it did.

"Get off me," she said through clenched teeth.

"Want me off of you? Get on your fucking knees and make me get off of you."

She leaned in, her jaw ticcing. "I will never suck your dick, Bellamy. Now leave me alone. You see me in the hall, don't talk to me."

"You think you're gonna call the shots?" I smirked as I backed away. "Sure thing, baby girl. Sure fucking thing."

"I'm telling you, Bell." Hendrix palmed one of the rubber dodgeballs. "Set some shit on fire."

The coach blew his whistle, and the girls bounded over to center-court in their baggy gym shirts and short-shorts.

"Females," Coach started. "Since one of your counterparts thinks it's funny to tie a tampon to my car antenna, you can run laps. Men. Grab a ball."

The girls groaned on their way to the door. All except Drew. She stood there in shorts barely past her ass, inspecting her nails.?And all I could think about was wrapping my hands around her throat again and making her moan. That would be the hate fuck of the century.

"Miss Morgan," Coach shouted. "Get moving."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She placed a hand on her chest, the fakest smile crossing her face. "I can't go on the track. Grass allergy."

And that was bullshit. I'd read her file, and she didn't have one damn allergy.

Coach glanced across the gym at us, a befuddled expression on his face. "Grass aller— Well, are you allergic to plastic?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No."

"Then grab a ball and get in line with the boys."

"You want me to play with them ?" She waved a prissy hand over the line of guys.

"Is that a problem?"

For her prissy ass, it absolutely would be. The annoyed scowl on her face said I was right. I waited on her to whine, possibly pitch a fit, but she just sighed and took her place across the court from Hendrix.

Hendrix snickered. "Fine. No setting her car on fire. But her ass...I'm tagging her ass with a ball." His eyebrows wiggled before he took his spot behind the start line.

The whistle sounded, and everyone took off. Drew and Hendrix went for the same ball. He snatched it, reared back, and lobbed it straight at her thigh. She yelped and hobbled for a couple of strides.

The red mark it left sent an unsettled feeling stirring in my gut. It was just dodgeball, but I couldn't handle shit like that with girls. Scare the shit out of them, sure. Actually, physically hurt them, no.

"Don't hit her again, man."

Hendrix frowned at me. "What the hell did you just say?"

"Don't hit her."

His eyes went wide, and he shook his head before taking his place back behind the line. "I swear to God, if you let the temptation of a hot piece of ass cloud your judgment..."

The whistle sounded again. Sneakers scuffed the floor. Drew beat Hendrix to the ball this time, threw it, and nailed Hendrix in the balls. He fell to his knees, clutching his crotch while he mumbled, "Motherfucker."

"Miss Morgan," Coach shouted. "No aiming at the penile region."

"Sorry. Bad aim."

Hendrix glared up at me from the fetal position he'd curled himself into. "Scared the shit outta her, huh?" He grunted. "How does setting fire to her car sound to you now?"