Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,36

dingy hallways, dim emergency lighting and old green paint. It didn’t seem safe, much less sanitary. The floors were covered in dirt and dog hair like no one was around to manage the building, and a smell hung in the air like a mix of cigarette smoke and body odor. But I tried desperately to keep my expression even. If I had to work with only a high school education to pay my rent, I’d probably be in the exact same place.

Holding his back straight and his chin up, he reached to put his key in the lock, but the door sprang open.

A guy who had to be a year or two younger than me yanked at the handle. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“What’s going on?” Ronan demanded, stepping quickly into the room. I followed quietly behind him, worried about being left in the hallway, about what might find me.

Another voice from inside called, “He thinks I ate his cereal.”

“He did!” the first one growled as he shut the door behind Ronan.

Ronan’s head swung around the living room and landed on two guys playing in front of a game console. “Drex, what happened?”

A guy who looked about my age with shaggy blond hair answered, playing the game the whole time. “Brock ate Cruz’s cereal.”

“Thank you!” the first guy cried.

“But,” Drex continued, “to be fair, Cruz finished off the last of the pizza last night.”

“See?” Brock said.

The other guy in front of the TV seemed to notice me and did a double take. “Wait, you brought a girl?”

They all seemed to notice at the same time that I was there, their eyes turning to me all at once like I was an alien creature.

I gave them a small wave, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“This is Zara,” Ronan said. He reached out with a muscled arm and pointed from left to right. “Nico, Drexel, Brock, and—”he put his hand on the shoulder of the outraged one—“Cruz.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said. They were still staring.

“So,” Ronan said, turning back to the guys, “you’re telling me I need to make another grocery run.”

Brock perked up, his blue eyes looking hopeful. “If you give me the cash, I can do it. You know, save you some time?”

Ronan pretended to laugh. “And have you buy a bunch of junk again? No thanks.” He held my gaze a second longer than he needed to, and I reveled in it. “I’ll be right back.”

With a final glance, he turned and crossed the small living room and began digging through a dresser in the corner. After grabbing a couple of items, he went into a room I assumed was the bathroom.

“So,” Drex said, still gaming. “Who are you?”

The direct way he spoke caught me off guard. I instantly liked him. “Zara.”

“We know your name,” he said.

“Yeah,” Brock added with a teasing smile, sitting on the couch with a takeout box. “What are your intentions with our Ronan?”

Cruz folded his arms over his chest and eyed me suspiciously, waiting for my answer.

I opened my mouth to speak when I heard Ronan yell from the bathroom, “Don’t answer that, Zara!”

The guys each gave varying looks of frustration and disappointment, and Ronan came back into the room wearing shorts and a T-shirt. I liked the way he looked in his narrow-cut jeans, but damn did seeing the musculature of his legs do something to me.

“Ready?” he asked, running his hands through his curls.

I nodded.

He laced his fingers through mine, which caused wolf whistles and catcalls to erupt in the room.

“Oh, shut it,” Ronan said, shaking his head.

With the door closed behind us and noise still erupting from inside, Ronan said, “Children.”

I laughed. “How old are they?” They had to be older if they were living on their own, but some of them looked even younger than me.

Ronan looked over his shoulder like he was worried one of them might overhear, then spoke softly. “Brock’s sixteen, the others are seventeen and eighteen.”

My mouth fell open. “But why...”

“Why are they living in this trash heap?” He grit his teeth. “Their parents are just as worthless as mine, and they needed a place to go.”

My mouth went slack, fully understanding the situation. Ronan was caring for four other guys who had been through the same thing as him. And it made me like him that much more.

Twenty-Four

He drove closer and closer to the shore until he reached the Brentwood Marina. I wondered what we were doing here, since he’d mentioned kayaking earlier, but then we reached the