23. Drew

TWENTY-THREE

drew

That afternoon when I got home from school, I was still shaken up. I sat on the couch, feeling numb, and my only thought was Bellamy. He'd seen me cry. And I never, ever let anyone see me cry. He held my hand, kissed me... I could still feel the heat of his lips branded on mine.

Where was the bad guy I was supposed to hate?

I stared at my phone. I was passed caring right now. My walls were down. He'd put a big old crack in them in the space of one class.

Me: Thank you. For holding my hand

It sounded pathetic when I wrote it out like that.

Dickhead: Yep

Dickhead: Hope it didn't ruin the whole you hating me thing we've got going on...

God, I was so screwed. So absolutely screwed. What was the point in fighting it anymore...?

I typed out the first part of a response, then another text came through.

Dickhead: Because you all angry at me makes my dick hard AF.

So, this is where we were going. And this I could handle a lot more readily than the weird emotions that were trying to worm their way through my chest.

Me: That explains a lot.

Dickhead: Don't believe me. Tell me you hate me, and I'll show you what it does.

A little blossom of excitement took root, and of course, I rose to it because Bellamy may have been the solid rock at my back today, but normally he was a blazing fire licking over my skin, threatening to singe me. This...this is what we did, and I wanted the familiarity of it, as though my sense of self was tied to him being filthy and bad. I pressed the voice-clip button. "I fucking hate you."

Seconds later, a picture came through of his fist wrapped around his bare dick. Heat trickled over my skin, and I caught myself squeezing my thighs together. Of course, I'd seen it, had my lips around it, but seeing his hand around it...that was something else entirely. It seemed so much more brutal, almost angry.

Me: You gonna stroke it for me?

Dickhead: You gonna finger fuck yourself for me?

God, when it came to him, I was a sick addict.

The next day at school, Bellamy wasn't waiting at my locker, and the sinking sense of disappointment that came took me off guard. Everything with him was so complicated, my feelings never the same from one day to the next. I kept waiting for him to show up, but he never did.

I shoved my biology book in my locker at the end of the day and grabbed my backpack. When I turned around, a redhead was leaned against the metal wall, staring at me.

Cleavage spilled out of her shirt, and she had this whole aura of "don't fuck with me." She was exactly the kind of girl who would have a razor blade. She was also the kind of girl any guy would want to screw, so when she said, Bellamy sent me to talk to you, I instantly assumed he'd slept with her. And that had my spine stiffening.

I quietly shut my locker door. "O-kay."

"You should stay the hell away from Max, and don't drink anything you didn't pour yourself around any of those Barrington assholes." She looked me up and down. "Then again, I don't know what Bellamy's worried about; you're probably fine. You aren't Dayton trash, are you?"

"He spiked your drink?"

She gave a curt nod, her expression shuttering. "Just trust me on this. They're not good guys." She took a step back. "I'll be sure to tell your friend the same thing."

"Wait. How do you know Bellamy?" I asked.

Her blood-red lips kicked up in a smirk. "I haven't fucked him." Then she walked off, disappearing into the rapidly thinning crowd in the halls.

I shouldered my bag and made my way to the exit, thoughts whirring through my mind. Max had date-raped that girl.

I wondered if Jackson and Olivia knew. They couldn't. They'd never let the guy in their house, surely? Then again, who were they going to believe? Their friend or a Dayton girl? And that thought had a sick feeling swirling in my gut.

My encounter with the redhead played out in my head the entire drive home. And when Olivia texted to ask if I wanted to go grab food with her, all I could think about was how the hell I could broach this with her. Surely to God, if what the girl said was true, Olivia wouldn't set one of my friends up with him.

Olivia's Mercedes barreled over the road. She talked at a hundred miles an hour about some party this weekend while I stared out the window, watching the streets of Barrington whizz by.

I sent a text to Nora, telling her we needed to talk, though I had no confidence that she would listen. Had the original information come from anyone but Bellamy, maybe... I knew she wouldn't listen. She was too blinded by the Barrington glamor and her hatred of Bellamy.

"Anyway, Max will be there," Olivia slowed in a turn lane, putting on her blinker. "So, you should bring your friend."

Seconds passed where I grappled with the best way to say it..."I spoke to this girl at school today." I swept a hand over the leg of my jeans. "She said Max Harford date-raped her. You ever hear anything about that?"

She frowned. "What girl?"

"A redhead. I don't know her name; she just came up to me and—"

"Ugh! A redhead? You spoke to Zepp Hunt's trashy girlfriend? You know, the word is, she got him arrested. I wouldn't believe a word she says."

"But wasn't Zepp the one who beat Max?"

She shrugged. "Men are Neanderthals. Who's to say what she told him. They're Dayton. Beating up the Barrington quarterback is like gold for them. I mean, they kidnapped Jackson and put him on your porch, Drew!"

"Yeah." But they didn't hurt him and considering they hated him, they absolutely could have... I'd seen the scars on Max's face. That wasn't just a beating; that was punishment. That was a blood debt.

"Forget about it. It's bullshit." I didn't think it was, though, and if it weren't...I could totally see why Dayton would hate Barrington. By association, I could see why Bellamy would hate me.

Olivia pulled into a gravel lot filled with pickups and motorcycles. I stared up at the orange and brown sign with the light to half the letters unlit: Waffle Hut. What the hell kind of name was that?

I followed Olivia inside, and the middle-aged woman behind the counter gestured toward an empty table in the corner. I sank to the plastic booth, my hands sticking to the seat before I took the grease-covered menu and skimmed about twenty-different ways to eat hash browns.

A few minutes later, the bell above the door chimed. Jackson walked in with Max and Nora. I didn't even know she would be here, but there she was, her hand on Max's arm. That horrible feeling settled in my gut again.

"God, I live with you. Leave me alone already." Olivia snorted as she shuffled over to make room.

Jackson glared at me before sliding into the booth next to his sister, obviously still annoyed over Bellamy's stunt last weekend. Not that I could blame him.

Max plopped down beside me, practically smooshing me to the wall so Nora could squeeze in. I'd never been more repulsed by being near someone.

We placed our orders, and ten minutes later, a feast of greasy food turned up on the table, and from the looks of it I was not sad I'd stuck with ordering just a milkshake.

I plucked the cherry from the thick whipped cream, cringing when Max threw an arm around Nora's shoulders. I wanted to rip it off and drag her out of here. Even before I knew what I now did about Max, I thought she was too good for an arrogant rich boy like him.

Jackson glanced up from the phone he'd been paying attention to for the past five minutes. "Davis said he's down. That makes eight of us."

"We're so gonna beat their asses." Max laughed, rubbing his hands together before he picked up his fork.

God, boys and testosterone. "Whose ass are you beating?" I asked, sucking the milkshake through my straw.

Jackson typed out a text before he shot a sick grin at me. "West and his boys."

Oh, this was not good. Granted, I could see why they'd feel the need for the backup, but it seemed wrong. Unfair. "That seems kind of barbaric," I said. "I mean, aren't you guys above that?"

Max turned his attention to me. "So, I mean, what's the deal between you and West, Drew?"

"Nothing?"

"Not what I heard."

Jackson shifted, stuffing the rest of his greasy sandwich into his mouth before shoving his plate away. "Whose side are you on, anyway, Drew?"

"No one's. I just think fighting is stupid."

Jackson's phone beeped again, snatching his attention from me. "Davis said he'd meet us over in Paradise Valley at ten. Sheridan said all the losers are over at Hunt's house."

The guys kept talking about beating up the Dayton trash, and with every backhanded comment they made about Bellamy, my agitation grew. After a few minutes, I excused myself to the bathroom. Because this was bullshit.

The minute I closed the door to the grubby stall, I took out my phone. Maybe my loyalty should have been to Olivia and Jackson, but eight on three just seemed shitty. I had no idea who I really trusted anymore, but something always pulled me back to Bellamy, no matter how stupid it might be. I couldn't not warn him.

Me: Just a heads up...Barrington guys are going to turn up at Hendrix's house later, and I quote, "to beat your ass."

Dickhead: Yeah?

Dickhead: And how do you know that?

God, he was a dick. Couldn't just take the warning.

Me: Does it matter?

Dickhead: If you're with him—yeah.

Me: I told you I'm not fucking him!

Dickhead: Doesn't matter.

Possessive was not even the word.

Me: Just be careful.

Dickhead: Come on, baby girl. Tell me you don't think he could actually beat my ass.

Me: Don't think they're planning one on one, Bellamy.

When I went back to the table, two more Barrington guys had shown up. I ordered a plate of fries, just to stall Jackson and those guys a little longer, hoping maybe Bellamy's idiot self would change his mind and leave Hendrix's house. Although, really, I knew he wouldn't abandon Hendrix.

I'd just shoved the last of Waffle Hut's godawful fries into my mouth, feeling like I may puke, when the bell over the door jingled.

"Aw, hell." Max grinned, nodding toward the door. "Looks like we'll get to it earlier."

I glanced over my shoulder at Bellamy, Wolf, and Hendrix standing in the doorway. Fists balled by their sides, and Bellamy's angry gaze homed in on me.

How the hell did Bellamy know where we were?

"Heard you gotta problem with me, Bennett?" Bellamy jerked his chin up. "Wanna beat my ass?"

"You told him, Drew?" Jackson shook his head, swearing under his breath.

"Not like that's a secret!" I directed my glare toward Bellamy. I helped him out, and he dropped me in it.

"She doesn't have shit to do with it," Bellamy said, pushing up his sleeves.

Olivia glared at me. "Seriously? You're loyal to the trash you're fucking now, Drew?" Her gaze dragged over me, shifting into the way she looked at everyone from Dayton. Like I was beneath her.

Hendrix took a step forward. "Pissed that Bell face-fucked your girl, Bennett?"

And on that comment, Jackson shot out of the booth, followed by Max. The other two guys moved down the aisle behind them.

"Your dumbass didn't learn your lesson the first time?" Wolf said, glaring at Max.

Hendrix nudged Wolf, bouncing on his feet like a puppy. "They think they're gonna whoop our ass, Wolf. Because we don't have baseball bats this time." He tossed his head back on a cackle. "Dumb shits."

Bellamy moved to the front, drumming his fingers over one of the empty tables. "I tell you what, Bennett. You get on your knees right now like the little bitch you are, and I won't beat your ass for talking to my girl."

That should have pissed me off. I was absolutely not his girl. But damn if it didn't turn me on. Because it was possessive and arrogant and everything bad boy.

"Your girl?" Jackson laughed. "You want your ass beat over that bitch, West?" Jackson said.

Bellamy's jaw set. Blind rage blanketed his face. Jackson took a swing. Bellamy didn't even flinch, simply ducked, then popped up and socked Jackson square in the temple.

Jackson's head snapped to the side before he fell to a heap on the tile floor.

"Now, who's the bitch?" Bellamy spat on him, and all hell broke loose.

The rest of the guys went at each other, everyone throwing jabs. Hendrix screamed "cocksuckers" at the top of his lungs before literally leaping into the fray. I couldn't tear my eyes from Bellamy, the way he moved so effortlessly, all coiled muscles with an air of calm that contradicted the violence. I liked to think I was above such things. Turned out, I really wasn't. The way he moved made me crave his scarred hands at my throat, his body over mine, dominating me—sick, twisted, addiction.

Olivia pulled her phone from her purse, swiping her fingers over the screen before placing it to her ear. "Yes. I need to report a fight…"

Shit. I grabbed Nora's arm and dragged her out of the booth, ducking around fallen Barrington guys and swinging fists before I hauled her out the door into the humid Alabama air.

Nora followed me out onto the highway, making it past the pawnshop before she stopped and sighed. "We can't walk home."

"It's fine." I tapped over my phone as we walked down the litter-strewn shoulder. "I'm getting an Uber." Correction, there were none because it was Dayton! Cars rushed by us, and a truck beeped its horn, kicking up a gust of wind. We kept walking, and my mind whirled at a hundred miles an hour. Bellamy, Jackson, Max...Nora turned up with Max. The idea that she might date a guy like that left a horrible sick feeling in my gut.

"You know, I really don't think Max is a good guy, Nora."

"Drew..."

"I spoke to a girl today who was date raped by him. Call it gut instinct, but I believe her."

She huffed and folded her arms over her chest. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

I glanced at her, with her chin dropped to her chest, traipsing along beside me. She looked defeated, and I had a feeling she did, in fact, believe it; she just didn't want to. She wanted the guy to actually like her, and that was understandable. I felt bad for her. "Okay."

We made it halfway down the shittiest block I'd ever walked in my life before a car slowed beside us. The passenger window lowered, and Bellamy leaned around Hendrix. "Get in the car, Drew."

Hendrix glared at me from the passenger seat like I'd stolen his favorite toy.

Nora crossed her arms over her chest. "So what? We can get hauled off to jail when they report your tag, Bellamy. No thanks. We'll walk."

I took one look at the hookers loitering outside the pawnshop across the street. The car idling at the corner with what was one hundred percent a drug deal going down.

Hendrix leaned over the lowered window, grinning. "Aw, Snora Nora is all pissy wissy because her Barrington turd bucket got his ass handed to him. Again."

"I don't give a shit if you wanna get in, Nora. But Drew... You get the fuck in." Bellamy's voice was authoritative and deep, and it sent white-hot heat crawling into my cheeks.

Hendrix slumped in the seat, rolling his eyes while he mocked Bellamy.

I turned to Nora. "Just get in. It's like five minutes or a half-hour walk through...this shit." For all of Bellamy's shit, I knew he wouldn't actually leave her here.

"Whatever," she said before moving toward the car.

Hendrix climbed out of the front, throwing himself into the back and patting his thigh. "Time to get all cozy, Nora Bora."

The scent that was all Bellamy greeted me the second I sank into the passenger seat. His hand landed on the stick shift, and my attention went to his grazed knuckles before moving to the split in his lip. I told myself that the heat churning in my gut was just a reaction to the violence, but I knew it was more than that. Bellamy was a brand of awful that I wasn't even sure I wanted to escape anymore.

He floored the engine, fishtailing back onto the highway before running a red light. When we reached the interstate, Hendrix popped between the seats.

"You two gonna fuck like stray cats and dogs tonight or what?" He whacked Bellamy on the back of the head. "Meow-fucking-meow." He flopped onto the backseat on a cackle.

"No. I hate him," I said, turning around to face the back of the car.

"Like that means shit. I hate Hora Nora, but I'd still let her sit on my dick and take a spin. Don't worry, stumpy legs, no one will judge your judgment if you take a ride on my Whorey-Go-Round." He pinched Nora's side, and she slapped him in the face. I gaped for a moment because everyone knew Hendrix was crazy.

"And now you've given him a boner, Nora." Wolf shook his head. "Congratulations. He's gonna hump your leg like a dog with its red rocket out." The guys all laughed while Nora glared at Hendrix like she'd choke him if she could.

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and I faced the front again, unable to ignore the way the streetlight played over the shadows of Bellamy's face. He turned and caught me staring. "Don't worry, I hate you, too, baby girl." His hand landed on my thigh, rough fingers sweeping over sensitive skin.

I turned my gaze out the window, staring at the boarded-up buildings around us while trying not to react to the heat of Bellamy's palm branding my flesh, promising he would eventually own me. Nora sighed from the backseat. "You know you guys are gonna get arrested?"

The guys barked out laughs. When the light turned green, Bellamy moved his hand from my thigh, shifting into first, and I missed that contact.

"Come on, Hora Nora, that's not how shit works between Dayton and Barrington. You know that."

Bellamy weaved in and out of traffic, eventually taking a hard turn into Barrington and gunning it through the subdivision. The brakes screeched when he slammed to a halt in front of my drive. Nora shouted for Hendrix to move before the back door opened, then slammed it shut.

"Thanks for the text." Bellamy brushed his rough, battered knuckles over my cheek, and my heart fluttered like a dying bird. "It was cute."

I swept my thumb over his split lip. "Put some ice on that," I said, then I got out of the car.

Nora stood in my driveway glaring at Hendrix, whose face was plastered to the back window. His tongue pressed over the glass before the car sputtered off.

"That…" Nora pointed down the street as the taillights of Bellamy's car disappeared around the corner. She started up my sidewalk, toward my house, stopping at the door to wait on me. "Seriously, Drew, I'm telling you, you keep messing around with Bellamy, and you're gonna get hurt."

That was nothing I didn't already know, but I couldn't stop myself. He was like a tsunami I couldn't outrun, and I knew I'd just chosen him over my friends. He had my loyalty, whether or not I liked it. I was going to drown.

I unlocked the door, then shoved inside the cold foyer. "It's not like that."

"I saw his hand on your thigh, Drew."

"It's..." I dropped my keys to the entranceway table, then we headed through the dark house toward the stairs.

"It was a ride home, Nora. What was he gonna do? Leave us to walk through Dayton…"

"Did you miss the part where he called you his girl? Or where he was willing to leave me while demanding you get into his car?"

"He was just saying that to wind Jackson up." And I like it, way too much. I changed out of my clothes, pulling on an oversized T-shirt before I settled on the bed beside her. "And he wouldn't have left you."

"Had it just been me, he wouldn't have stopped in the first place. He's not nice, Drew."

No, he wasn't, but for all the shit between Bellamy and me, he'd never hurt me. Although I now realized how easily he could have; I understood the wide berth people gave them in the hallways. The fear, the reverence. In my world, money was power, but in theirs, violence ruled. And that, they had in spades.

"I'm just trying to warn you. Fuck him all you want, whatever. Just don't fall for him. Okay?"

Nora fell asleep, and though I usually found the sound of another person's breathing comforting—thanks to always sharing a dorm—I couldn't sleep. My mind was a jumbled mess, my body restless—and it was Bellamy's fault. I couldn't get him out of my head. I'd tried to block him out after the party at Jackson's house, told myself he was bad and that I was done, but we weren't done.

Me: You called me your girl...

Dickhead: Yep

That was it, not "because you are" or "I was just winding Jackson up." Just "yep."

Dickhead: So, are you going to tell me why you were with him?

How quickly he moved on, and to such an obvious topic. I didn't owe him an explanation, but after the beating he'd just given Jackson, I could surmise that this was a very sore spot right now. Whereas Jackson had always seemed like the good guy, tonight I saw that he wasn't. He wanted to pit eight against three, was friends with a guy who would date rape girls, and the way Olivia looked at me... I thought maybe they were nice, so long as I fit into the perfect Barrington box. They were no better than my dad. And now, I was no better than the trash I'd "sided" with. I'd sooner be trash than an asshole.

Me: We were friends. Not after tonight, though.

I didn't really have any friends here other than them, but whatever. I'd rather hang out with Dayton kids than fall into the predictable role of the stuck-up rich kid. I didn't get it, the vehemence toward a person simply because they didn't have money.

Dickhead: Can't say I'm sorry…

Me: Pretty sure you're at the top of Barrington's shit list. No more rich girls for you...

I really needed to let that go, but, yeah, that wasn't happening anytime soon. Yes, I was petty and jealous.

Dickhead: I'm always at the top of that list. Only one rich girl I like. And you are definitely NOT Barrington.

I typed out a response, deleted it, typed another. All while those words played through my mind. The shittiest thing about this story is that I almost fucking liked you.

Me: I hate you.

It was true. No one had ever made me want to kiss them and kill them at the same time the way he did.

Dickhead: It wouldn't be half as much fun if you didn't.

Dickhead: By the way. We're going to a party tomorrow night.

Me: Okay… Have fun?

Dickhead: You're coming. And that wasn't a question.

Damn the bit of me that found his commanding bullshit hot.

Me: Fine, but you're not picking me up.

If he picked me up, it was like a date. I wasn't sure I was ready to date Bellamy West.

Dickhead: Whatever you want, baby girl.