16. Bellamy

SIXTEEN

bellamy

Friday afternoon, I leaned against Wolf's truck's tailgate, covering a smile while Drew went to town on Brown's SUV.

Glass shattered when she rammed the end of the baseball bat through the back windshield. Then she went straight for the taillight while shouting for Brown to fuck off. And everything about this was turning me on. I was absolutely banging her tonight.

Wolf settled against the side of his truck, tucking his joint behind his ear. "On a level of psycho, I think she's right up there with Nikki, dude."

"Probably."

"All the hot ones are, though…"

Brown eventually shoved his way through the students crowded around the complete shit show, his face puce red. "Miss Morgan!" he stammered. "What on hell's earth do you think you are doing?"

She propped the baseball bat over her shoulder on a smile. "I figured with all that money my daddy is paying you, you can afford a new car anyway."

Then she swung at the other taillight, and I should not have—in any way, shape, or form—found it as hot as I did.

"Damn," Wolf mumbled. "She's savage."

And that, she most definitely was.

Brown attempted to snatch the bat from her, but she yanked it away, taking one more swing before tossing it at his feet with a clatter of metal over the pavement. "And now I'm done."

And now my dick was hard. Again.

"Duuuuude...." Wolf smacked my arm on a chuckle. "Dude! If you're not interested—"

"Shut up, Wolf."

Brown stormed off with Drew in tow. When they passed by Wolf's truck, she winked at me.

Wolf shook his head. "You're one doomed motherfucker."

I watched her ass as they went into the school. "Nah, man. I'm not." Because that w ould get her expelled, get me my fuck, and get her out of my life, whether or not I wanted it to.

Medusa: I got suspended again! Not expelled. And now I'm grounded.

On a groan, I dragged a hand down my face. This was ridiculous.

Arlo sat beside me at Waffle Hut, bouncing up and down as he ate his fries. "You mad, Bubba?"

"No."

Hendrix snorted before shoveling hash browns in his mouth. "Bubba..."

Ignoring him, I went back to the text. No way she didn't expelled.

Me: You're full of shit.

She sent through a picture of her suspension slip. Her dad must be paying Brown truckloads. Because the damage she did to his car was pretty damn bad.

Medusa: No sex for you tonight.

Me: Not with you...

At this point, I was so hard up for her, I couldn't even think about another girl. But she didn't have to know that.

Medusa: Good to know we aren't making our agreement exclusive.

Me: Who are you fucking, Drew?

Me: Some Barrington dick?

I thought about that blue dot that practically stayed at another house.

Medusa: Who are you fucking?

Me: Jealous, baby girl?

"What are you smiling at?" Hendrix glared across the booth, dumping hot sauce over his hash browns.

"Nothing."

"If you've got some beaver picture over there that you're hoarding…" He lifted a brow before cramming food in his mouth.

"I'm in Waffle-Hut, dick."

Arlo shifted in the seat beside me, sucking down his soda.

Hendrix grinned. "And it's a fine place to look at P-O-R—"

I chucked a fry from my plate at Hendrix. "He can spell."

Hendrix rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath.

Arlo tugged at my sleeve, holding his crotch and wiggling in the plastic booth. "I gotta tinkle."

"Then go." I thumbed back to the bathroom, and he shot off.

"Don't talk about beavers and porn in front of my kid brother, you dipshit."

Hendrix shrugged a shoulder. "Like he knows what kinda beaver I'm talking about. He thinks it's something that gobbles down wood." He froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, a proud grin taking over his face. "Holy shit. Beavers do gobble down wood." Then he and Wolf burst into laughter.

The bell over the diner door jingled, and a group of Barrington pricks in their letterman jackets stepped in.

Hendrix cracked his head to the side, and Wolf crammed the rest of his patty-melt into his mouth, his stare aimed right at them. The shit between Dayton and Barrington ran deep, and any time one of us could dig a grave for the other, we'd gladly oblige.

Jackson Bennett—the quarterback who replaced Max Harford after Zepp sent him to the hospital earlier in the year—stopped at the end of the booth. His too-clean, rich-boy nails drummed over the table while the rest of his dumbass, yuppie friends formed a letterman and Chino clad line behind him.

"I'm going to tell you one time, West, and one time only…" My blood heated at his unfinished pussy-ass threat. "Leave Drew Morgan alone."

And now there was an inferno. He knew her. Well enough to think he had a right to start a bloodbath over her. And wasn't he just the type she would go for?

"I knew you were stupid, Bennett. But seriously?" On instinct, my fingers pulled into fists. "Stupid enough to threaten me?"

Hendrix shot up from the table. Wolf latched onto him like a dog on a leash, then shifted himself to the edge of the booth.

Bennett's jaw set. "I'll beat your poor, white-trash ass right here. Right now."

If I had to guess, he'd only been brave enough to say that because there were about six of them, but even being outnumbered by three, we'd still kick their asses. Rich boys had no idea how to fight with their fists.

The door to the bathroom swung open, and the sound of Arlo singing "SpongeBob SquarePants" echoed over the "Waffle-Hut" theme song playing through the jukebox.

"If my little brother weren't with me," I said. "You'd be fucking dead."

Arlo skirted around the corner, and the Barrington guys backed up. "I did a number two!" Arlo held up two fingers before snatching a fry from his plate and cramming it into his mouth. "And I even washed my hands."

"Good to see you, West. Hope I've made myself clear." Bennett started down the aisle.

"Yeah. I'll tell her you sent your regards."

Hendrix glared at me, one eye twitching. "Tuba-Blowing Betty said there's a party at Bennett's house tomorrow night. She even sent me the directions…"

And I couldn't resist the temptation. "Sounds like a plan, man."

We finished our food, Hendrix glaring at the Barrington assholes most of the time, then I took Arlo to get a Slurpee from the 7-11.

Hendrix texted me the address, and I stared down at it, my blood heating with jealousy. Because Bennett's address was the same one Drew practically stayed at. Arlo jiggled the door handle. "Unlock it, Bubba."

I pressed the button, and Arlo shot out of my car, darting into the 7-11 while I fumed over a girl that wasn't even mine. "This is bullshit." I tossed my phone to the console and got out of my car, heading into the quick mart. I grabbed an energy drink from the cooler, then rounded the corner and abruptly stopped. Drew stood in front of the rubber section, a box of condoms in each hand. Heat crept beneath the collar of my shirt as the thought of her and Bennett screwing catapulted to the forefront of my mind.

She glanced at me, froze, then smiled. "Bellamy." She held up the packages. "Which one?"

Bennett's face flashed to mind—that smug ass grin when he told me to leave her alone...

"Those are too small. Put them back," I said, grabbing a pack of Slim Jim's and trying to control the hot wave of jealousy crashing inside me.

She bit her lip on a smile. Then put one box back.

"I said, put them back."

"Or what?"

Every bit of fear I'd put in her was gone. Either because she liked being scared or because my wanting her bad enough to make a deal gave her a false sense of security.

"I got all three flavors, Bubba!" Arlo skipped down the aisle. "And some Dr. Pepper. This one's called monster poop." Arlo glanced at Drew. "I named my horse with a sword Spike." Then he rushed over and snatched a box of condoms from the shelf, shaking it. "Can we get some rubbers, Bubba?"

Drew's hand went to her mouth, smothering a laugh.

This was Hendrix's fault. Telling Arlo that the damn things were water balloons one time when he was the only option left for a babysitter. "Put those back, Arlo."

"Why! Hendrix always gets rubbers. He said the 7-11 is good for two things." Arlo held up two fingers. "Rubbers and hose. And we already got our hose at home." He grabbed my arm and gave it a tug. "Puh-lease." I was seriously going to kill Hendrix.

She flipped the box of condoms over in her hand, skimming the back as she lifted a slow brow. "I bet you've got hoes lined up around the block."

"Nah-uh." Arlo shook his head. "We just got the hose at our house."

Drew smiled at him. "Oh, is that all?"

Bennett. She was screwing Bennett. She had to be. And God, did I hate her for it.

"Fuck off."

Arlo's eyes widened on a deep frown. "That's not nice."

And now, I felt like shit for being a bad example. "You're right." Taking him by the shoulders, I directed him to the front. "Go get some gum or something."

He skipped off, and I redirected my attention back to Drew and that stupid box of rubbers. Annoyed as hell that she wanted someone who wasn't me. More annoyed that I gave a shit. Before her, I'd never been bothered by a girl at all, yet everything about Drew bothered me and pissed me off because it was every fucking thing about her that made me want her. "Surprised Bennett's two-inch prick doesn't slip out of condoms." I couldn't even manage to keep my mouth shut when it came to her. "Might wanna get the rubbers for the genitally challenged."

"Careful, Bellamy. You almost sound jealous." She pretended to brush something from my shirt. "And I know how much you care about your reputation..."

God, was there something more than hate? On a growl, I started toward the register, grabbing Arlo on my way. He placed his Slurpee on the counter, along with a pack of bubble gum. That was when I noticed the lump in his newly tucked-in shirt.

I took a breath, not wanting to take my complete and absolute aggravation with this Prada-wearing Medusa out on my little brother. "Anything else we need to pay for?"

"Nah-uh."

Frowning, I kneeled beside him and untucked his shirt. Kit-Kats and Crunch bars fell to the dirty convenience store floor. "Dammit, Arlo." I gathered the treats up and tossed them onto the counter. "What have I told you about stealing?"

The toe of his Velcro sneaker scuffed the floor. "That it's not right."

"So, don't do it."

I stole. A lot. Some people would say trying to teach my kid brother morals when I was a complete delinquent was hypocritical, but I stole out of necessity. To give him an out of the same shit hand of cards I'd been dealt.

"But Hendrix said if I hide them in my shirt, it's not stealing," he whispered. "‘Cause it's only stealing if you get caught." Hendrix somehow screwed up everything I tried to set right with Arlo. "Yeah. Well. Hendrix is a dickhead, Arlo." I dropped the candy onto the counter, and the clerk rang us up. "A dickhead."

Arlo stared up at me, frowning. "You're best friends with a dickhead?"

Drew laughed. I glared over my shoulder at her Bennett-dick-riding ass before shoving my money across the counter. Then I grabbed the plastic bag and shot the bird at her on my way out to the car. And what did she do in return? Blew me a kiss. Like the fucking princess that she was.

Arlo stopped by my car's back door. "Why are you being mean to the nice lady, Bubba? She won me things."

"She won you things because you're a cute kid. But what she really is, deep down inside, is what we call a soul-sucking bitch, Arlo." His eyes widened. Shit—that was not what I meant to say, but by now, the image of her spread eagle with Bennett's sloppy ass pounding away at her had been ingrained in my mind.

Arlo poked me in the chest. "That's another not a nice word."

"Exactly." I opened his door. "And she's not a nice person."

"But…" His brow creased. Then he looked up at me like he was thinking harder about this than anything in his life. "She's pretty."

"And the pretty ones are always the worst. Because they're entitled."

"Entitled?"

I picked him up, placing him in his booster seat and buckling him in. "Yep. Entitled, meaning they will shit all over you in a heartbeat."

Hook up with you and leave you with blue balls. Flirt with you. Get you arrested. Then ask you for advice on condoms they intend to use with Barrington's dumbass quarterback.

"Ew. Girls poop!" His nose wrinkled before his tongue stuck out on a gag.

The butt-hurt tidal wave inside of me ebbed, and I shook my head. The kid was six. If he wanted to think pretty girls were nice, what did it hurt? "Don't worry about it, buddy. You'll get it one day."

And he would because he was Dayton, which unfortunately meant, one day he'd see exactly what that meant.