Chapter 21

Shay-Lee

If only transferring schools at this point of the year was an option, my life could have been a little better. But doing so three months before graduation was nonnegotiable, and skipping school as I had for the past few days was no longer an option since Dad was back home. As much as I wasn't ready to face Diesel, I still preferred that over staying where my dad and Orson were.

Sleeping with Dion that night was a mistake I regretted even before making it, yet it didn't stop me from doing it. Sadly, I never knew how to deal with shit, and my first instinct was to destroy everything around me as I went down. Only that Camilo was indestructible. I realized that a little too late when I stepped out of the elevator and he was still there waiting for me. But then everything went to shit when he took off my mask and discovered who I was.

After Diesel left me alone in that hallway with nothing but the idea of Camilo engraved into my soul, I got into my car and drove with no destination in mind. Still high and drunk, I went for what felt like hours until I swerved off my lane and nearly crashed my car into a truck. If it weren't for the ear-piercing honk and the blinding headlights that flashed before me, I would probably be dead. As much as the near-death experience was frightening, it was mostly enlightening. It brought me back to the night of Halloween when I was also a mere second away from dying. I had been ready to die at the time before I was saved by none other than Diesel. Thinking about that night now put it in a whole new perspective and made me realize that Camilo and Diesel being the same person made so much sense. The way Diesel carried himself with nothing but pure confidence. The way he protected. The way he held me by the fucking throat? The connections had been there all along, but I had been too distracted by hatred to notice.

After spending the last few days at home, processing my thoughts while reflecting on all the times I was with Diesel, I decided it was for the best because he was just as fucked-up as me. Perhaps this wake-up call was what we needed. We were getting too attached, anyway, and nothing good ever came out of having my heart involved. This was just another reminder of that. But it isn't. Nothing about Camilo ever felt the same. He wrote the fucking rules, made the plays, and stole the show.

As I continued to go back and forth between wanting to have more with him and wanting to have nothing at all, I reminded myself of that one little detail—Diesel hated my guts. Therefore, the chances of him punching me today were high, but I was willing to risk it.

The sound of the bell, followed by chairs dragging and student voices, snagged my attention, and I looked around to see the class had ended. So caught up with my thoughts, I hardly noticed that the day had flown by, and now it was time for my after-school punishment. Since I'd missed a few days, I'd have to make up for them later. This made-up community service may have sucked, and even though my dad could have gotten me out of it in the blink of an eye, I didn't mention this to him. While I would rather my father and his hound, Orson, stay as far away from my life as possible, the masochist in me looked forward to being all alone with Diesel.

By the time I reached the gym, which we were supposed to clean after someone forgot to close the windows and rain got the floor all wet, Diesel was already there.

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his tattoos. Veins traveled up his strong arms, making him even sexier. Biting my lip, I watched him dip the rag into the bucket before wringing it with his big hands. What could I say? He was hot even while wiping the goddamn floor. Pushing the distracting thought aside, I cleared my throat.

"Hey," I said once he looked up to meet my eyes. I was a bit of a sucker to expect he would answer me. He obviously didn't and, instead, moved on to mopping the floor. Frustrated, I blew out some air and pulled my hair into a half bun.

I hated being ignored, even if I deserved it.

"So… the weather kinda sucks today." I took the other mop that rested against the wall and began dragging water across the floor.

After a few silent minutes had passed, which felt like hours, Diesel stopped what he was doing and looked up, his dark eyes meeting mine before he grabbed the bucket of water from the floor and walked toward me. My heart rate increased, partly because I was prepared for him to pour the water all over my head but mostly because of how close he was. Close enough that I could smell his warm autumn scent mixed with the smell of tobacco.

Stopping right before me, he was a breath away. My strong urge to lean forward and climb him like a tree was cut short as he dropped the bucket between us.

"Use clean water, or else you're dragging dirt all over the damn floor," he said, his voice commanding.

"Don't order me around," I bit back before I could stop myself and watched how the vein on the side of his thick neck popped.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me," I snapped, my jaw tensed. And to think I tried to be nice. "I know how to mop a damn floor. I don't need you to tell me what to do." The truth was, I had no fucking idea how to clean floors, but I still wasn't going to get bossed around by him.

"I thought that's what you liked." He tilted his head aside, his eyes looking down on me. "To pay whores so they'll tell you what to do."

His words formed a lump in my throat, and I clenched the mop tighter in my fist.

Noticing my reaction, a dark smirk pulled on his face, and he leaned closer so his lips nearly brushed my ear. "You just can't help it, can you? To be treated like the cock-sucking slut that you are."

His tone carried nothing but hate, and yet, my dick took notice and began hardening in my slacks. Goddamn. I swallowed hard, my cheeks reddened with embarrassment as Diesel's eyes moved down my body and stopped on the bulge in my pants.

"Want me to touch you?" His eyes snapped to mine as he examined me carefully. "If you pay me, I might. Who knows."

Too ashamed to speak, I remained quiet.

"What's the matter? Gatto got your tongue?"

"That's not—"

"Nah, I don't care what you have to say," he hissed, dismissing me completely. "Just clean the damn floor, and keep your mouth shut."

Turning his back to me, the same way he did that night, he went back to mopping the floor while I remained frozen. He just proved to me that even now, he still had the upper hand and could control me without even trying. It was the same as when he pushed me against my car, choked me in front of the whole school, or shoved me to the ground. Only now, he didn't need to use force to prove he was stronger. All he had to do was glance my way, and it was enough to send my body into a trance and make me doubt everything. I hated him as I did from the start, but I also wanted him as I did from the second I saw him in the club.

Nero, Diesel, Camilo, he was all of them. I could either fight that fact or accept it. Considering how my dick was still rock hard and my heart was beating fast inside my chest, my body already had. If only it were that easy for my head to cooperate.

Looking down at the bucket he dropped at my feet, I twisted my lips together. Taking the mop, I dipped it in the bubbly water before moving to clean the floor in an attempt to ignore the sickening tension that rose in the room.

"I don't think you're a whore," I said, breaking the silence. "I never did."

"I don't care," he rasped. Still with his back to me, he was scrubbing back and forth on the same spot, his muscles tensed with the sharp, angry moves.

"But I do, and I'm sorry about sleeping with Dion—"

"I said I don't fucking care!" His shout echoed through the gym until it slowly died down and the silence returned. The sound of the rain pouring outside danced on my nerves as realization hit me.

Diesel wanted me.

He wanted me so much it infuriated him. He could argue otherwise, but if there was one thing I knew, it was that he was under my influence just as I was under his. It explained why me mentioning Dion stung him as it did just now and why instead of punching me that night, he punched a fucking wall. It's 'cause he couldn't hit me. He couldn't bring himself to physically hurt me. Something had changed between us, and neither of us could ignore it. Since the beginning, there had been this force that drew us to one another, and now it was a million times stronger. It was so strong that ignoring it seemed impossible. Call it madness, but we were a perfect fucking match.

After discovering who Nero was, I wasn't disappointed it was him. I was disappointed with myself because I knew he wouldn't want me, which was why I slept with Dion, because what was better than to make him hate me for other reasons instead of the real one? Hating me for something I did was much better than hating me for who I was. Being rejected by Nero was too much, so I tried to give up on him before he could give up on me, but not anymore. Knowing that a part of him still wanted me gave me hope. A slim-ass shot an obsessive asshole like me was about to clench onto.

Now, I only had to make him see it for himself. But it wouldn't be easy, especially now, since he looked like he was ready to take off my head. Fuck, I really want to get off with him, but hold on, Shay-Lee. Before getting to the good parts, where we'd ruin each other to the core, I'd have to make him break. To do that, I'd have to play dirty. Thank God I was a crazy son of a bitch, willing to do just about anything to get who he wanted.