43. Drew

FORTY-THREE

drew

I pulled away from the bank, cutting through the rush hour traffic in the center of Barrington. Instead of turning toward Barrington prep, I headed into Dayton. To Bellamy.

This was insanity.

I'd only known Bellamy for a few weeks, and half of that time, we'd hated each other.

He'd seen me at my worst, and if anything, my worst was what he liked best. In a world where I'd always been sub-par, he made me feel like something special.

I wanted whatever this crazy, burning addiction I had for him was. I craved the way he made me feel so alive, like all my imperfections were perfect. I'd jump into the unknown for him, but also for me. Screw the future and the what-ifs and maybes.

This might have been a mistake, but not one I would regret.

When I pulled up to Bellamy's, his car was in the drive and the trunk was open. He stepped outside of his house and went straight to his car to haul another of my suitcases out.

I was really doing this. No going back.

I'd emptied my account before my dad could figure out what I was moving in with Bellamy and his family because I knew the second he figured it out, he'd cut me off. I was going to re-enroll in Dayton to finish school.

Holy shit. I was moving in with him...

Would his mom think I was dragging her son down? Should I have spoken to her myself and asked to stay with her? The protocol for shacking up at eighteen was a little hazy. I would pay her, though...I thumbed through the cash in the envelope, about six thousand dollars. The price of a handbag normally. Now it was the price of freedom—for a little while at least.

I stuffed the envelope inside my purse and got out of the car.

Bellamy stood at the back of his Honda, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at the bumper. "You cannot leave that thing in my drive."

I glanced at the Porsche, then back to him. "Well, where do you want me to put it?"

"I don't know." He swiped a hand through his hair. "We'll have to get a tarp and cover it up. Someone will absolutely try to steal it."

I walked toward him. "Well, you would know..."

This boy was a car thief, a drug dealer, a criminal, and though I said he was no knight and I was no princess, it sure as hell felt like he was saving me.

He grabbed onto my hips, pulling me in for a kiss. "Think he's gotten the ‘you're not in school' text from Barrington yet?"

"I'm almost disappointed I didn't get to make a show of leaving. You know I like some theatrics." I could picture my father's face when he realized I wasn't coming back.

I didn't think for a second he'd been upset at losing his daughter, just angry that he couldn't control me.

"I think we should just skip school and fuck, since no one's home. What do you think?"

I thought it was a great idea.

I'd just broken a nail on his headboard when the muffled noise of a car door closing came through the single-pane bedroom window.

Bellamy leaned over his headboard to peek through the plastic blinds. "The balls on this asshole..."

"Who is it?"

He rolled off the bed, pulling on jeans before storming into the hall. "Your dad."

Of course, he was here. The man had barely given a crap about me, but now, when I decided to pick a poor guy...now he suddenly wanted to try to parent me.

"Bellamy, do not punch him!" I called after him, hurrying to get dressed.

I pulled my shirt over my head on my way into the hall just as the lock to the front door clicked.

"You need to get the hell off my porch." The pure restraint was evident in Bellamy's tone.

"I will do no such thing. I'm here for my daughter."

The silence seemed to stretch on for minutes, but it could have only been a matter of seconds before I made it into the tiny living room.

Bellamy stood, arms crossed. Jeans not fastened. My nail marks fresh on his bare chest. My soul died a little bit at that moment.

"She's not leaving." His back muscles bunched and tensed. One wrong word from my dad and Bellamy may very well knock him out.

My father's gaze skirted over me like I was no better than one of those hookers up by the pawn shops in Dayton, and I shouldn't have cared, but it cut me to the core. "Drucella…"

"I'm not coming." I held my breath, my pulse going haywire as Bellamy's fingers threaded through mine. "I'm eighteen. I'm moving out."

My father's face turned every shade of red, then purple. "That's how you want to be? Fine." He smoothed a hand down his pressed dress shirt. "If you want to play poverty-stricken house, by all means. Play."

His gaze swung back to Bellamy, and he paused like he was about to say something. "The least you can do is wear a condom. Let's not make her momentary lapse in judgment a lifetime of punishment."

When I glanced at Bellamy, he looked like he was ready to blow. "Get the hell," he took an unsteady breath, "off my porch."

My dad gave me one last disapproving look before he turned and stormed down the drive to his car.