21. Drew

TWENTY-ONE

drew

It was after midnight when I stumbled through my backyard and dodged the edge of the pool. I'd snuck out of the house and over to Olivia's for another party—upon her insistence. Besides, what kind of rebel child would I be if I didn't climb out my bedroom window to go and get drunk while I was grounded? I stopped below my bedroom balcony, looking up and debating how easy it would be to scale the trellis with alcohol buzzing through my veins.

I placed my hand through one of the open diamonds, and just when I was about to attempt scaling it, my phone vibrated in my bra.

Dickhead: Have fun at your boyfriend's house?

I could practically feel the jealousy oozing through his words, and I liked it far too much. People only got jealous over things they wanted, right? Correction, he was jealous because he wanted to screw me, and he thought Jackson already had. Don't get it twisted, Drew.

Me: Fuck you, Bellamy

I texted him back, which meant he'd now know I had unblocked him. But whatever. And why had I unblocked him? Because I'd sat in Olivia's house, replaying the previous night on a loop and getting stuck on the same sentence over and over again. The shittiest part about this story, is that I fucking liked you. At the time, I couldn't see past that blonde, but tonight I'd seen that same girl all over another guy. And then I felt guilty for allowing Bellamy to think I was dating Jackson.

Guilt was for pussies, though, because he kissed her freaking forehead! Thankfully, I had remembered that earlier in the night, which was what had kept me from doing something stupid, like messaging him first.

Dickhead: You looked angry walking home, baby girl. What's the matter? Bennett not doing it for you?

How did he know I had walked home? I chose to ignore the comment about Bennett.

Me: Are you stalking me now?

Dickhead: Of course.

Me: You do realize this is creepy.

Dickhead: Abso-fucking-lutely.

Me: The first step is admitting you have a problem.

I tucked the phone away and climbed the trellis, practically falling over my window ledge into my room. After I changed into my pajamas, I took my phone, went downstairs for a late-night Push-Pop, and then settled on the couch to watch TV.

Dickhead: I left a present for you on your front porch.

Seconds later, a horn blared from the driveway. I went into the foyer and opened the front door, dropping what was left of my Push-Pop when I found Jackson unconscious and laid out across the porch with dicks drawn all over his face. A nasty bruise marred his cheek, reminding me of last night's shitshow, and to top it off, he was in nothing but watermelon-green bikini bottoms.

My jaw tensed as I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed the dickhead's number. This was over the line. It hadn't finished ringing the first time before he answered.

"Miss me, baby girl?"

"Why is Jackson on my porch?" I stared down at Jackson, irritation bubbling through my buzz. Hadn't Bellamy done enough to the guy last night? Now, this?

"Don't know, Drew. Why is he on your porch?" A series of cackles rang through the line.

"You can't just kidnap someone."

"Kidnap is a strong word. I simply transported him from his pool deck to your front door."

God, I hated him. "Well, come back and get him."

"Nah. I'm good."

"He's unconscious, and he weighs a ton." I glanced around the dark yard. "What am I supposed to do? Just leave him here?"

"You're asking me like I care what happens to him…"

"You're an asshole," I said, then hung up, my face heating with annoyance.

I kneeled beside Jackson and shook him, but he didn't budge, so I shook him again. All he did was suck in a deep breath, then roll onto his side. There was no way I was getting him off my porch. Bellamy wasn't coming back, so I called Olivia.

Noise from the party in the background came over the line before slurred out a "What's up?"

"Your brother is on my porch. In bikini bottoms."

"That's amazing." She snorted. "Take a picture and send it to me."

Like hell I was taking a picture of him in this state. "Are you going to get some people together and come get him? I can't move him."

"Yeah. In a minute. But send me the picture first so I can prepare myself."

"Just come get him." I hung up—without taking a picture. I owed Jackson a little dignity in his hour of need.

I went inside and snagged a throw pillow and blanket from the living room, then covered up Jackson. Then I stood on the porch for a few minutes, staring down the dark street, hoping Olivia would hurry the hell up.

Me: Are you coming?

Olivia: Give me 20 minutes.

Rolling my eyes, I went back inside. I wasn't waiting on the porch for twenty more minutes. I lay down on the sofa and went back to my movie, passing out well before the guy got the girl.

"Drucella!"

I half opened my eyes on a groan. Bright morning sunshine spilled through the living room windows. That, coupled with the taste of Grand Marnier coating my tongue and the way my father glared down at me, made me feel sick.

"Why, in God's name, is there a young man on the porch in women's underwear, with male genitals drawn all over his face, Drew?"

Dammit, Olivia never came and got him? "No idea. Probably a hobo."

His eyes narrowed. "It looks like Nathaniel Bennett's son. Not a hobo."

"Well, did he recently become homeless?" I yanked at the blanket, then attempted to roll over to escape the sunlight.

"Drucella Analise Morgan!" I cringed at my full, godawful name. "Go wake him up. Now."

"Fine." I groaned, then rolled off the couch and staggered to the door. Sure enough, Jackson was right where I'd left him. Curled into the fetal position, snoring, with the blanket tangled around his legs.

I was annoyed as all hell at Bellamy for this. Jackson hadn't done anything to deserve this. The guy was still sporting a bruise from Friday night, for fuck's sake.

I nudged him with my foot, and he choked back a breath before his eyes snapped open. Blinking, he sat up and grabbed his head while he glanced around at my porch, then down at his crotch. "What the… Why am I here?"

"Not sure." I could have just said it was Bellamy, but I didn't need any more bad blood between the three of us than there already was. "I called Olivia to come to get you…"

With reddening cheeks, he stumbled to his feet. "Did your little fuck buddy do this?" His angry gaze met mine.

"He's not my fuck buddy. Jackson, I'm sorry I—"

"Save it, Drew. I don't give a shit." Then he turned and walked off, crossing the lawn as the sprinklers cut on.

I stood on my porch, hating that this was the state of things. Jackson and Olivia had always been nice to me and were my only friends when I'd been forced to visit Dad over various holidays. And now Jackson hated me.

I had no control over Bellamy, but I knew I was to blame for this—because I had let him believe Jackson was my boyfriend. Not that it should have warranted a reaction. Bellamy and I weren't together, and he was all over some blonde. Then again, said blonde triggered the homicidal rage that led me to destroy his car. So, I guessed I was a hypocrite. If I made him even half as crazy as he made me, this was a problem.

One I really needed to walk away from.