shout, tucking my phone in my pocket.
A door opens and closes, and I turn around to see him standing there sucking on two straws and holding two juice boxes.
Goodness. He really is mad.
“We need to go,” I tell him, snagging my truck keys out of my pocket. Unlike some people, I do not ride my bike when it is fucking freezing out, and Arrow rode with me.
“Give me a second. I’m almost done with my boxes,” he says around the straws.
I snag my leather jacket off the chair and slip it on. The sound of the boxes being emptied is accompanied by a loud slurping sound.
“Okay, ready.” He tosses the boxes in the trash and grabs his coat too. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
We step outside, and my boots step into slushy ice and water. “You realize we are about to go to the clubhouse where Homer is?”
“I’ll ignore him. He pisses me off sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” I tease as I open the truck door.
“Okay, all the time. What the hell is his problem with me?”
“What’s your problem with him?” I throw my arm around the passenger seat and turn around to look out the back window. I can’t look at the big fancy screen in the middle of the dash. It isn’t the same or as effective. I reverse out of the spot and the slush squishes under the tires.
When the road is finally clear, I get us on the road and turn on the wipers. It’s a shitty day. The clouds are heavy in the sky and rain has been sprinkling since the early morning.
“I just like to give him a hard time. I thought we were having fun, but I’m starting to really think he doesn’t like me.”
“I think he likes you. He only banters with you like that. He’s just an ornery old shithead.” I hope I’m right. The last thing I want to do is give false hope to Arrow.
Arrow is one of the good guys. Sure, he likes his juice boxes, but he’s a complete badass and has a heart of gold. When I stood up to Venom, Arrow was at my side. He was strung up with me, and when I was whipped, he was shot with his own bow and arrows.
He hasn’t been able to pick up his bow since.
“I hope so,” he says. “I don’t like it when people don’t like me. I shouldn’t care, but I do.”
“Ah, that’s what makes you so great, Arrow. Don’t let Homer get to you.” I slap his shoulder, trying to be as reassuring as I can.
“So why are we closing up shop two hours early?” he asks, rubbing his hands on his jeans. That’s when I notice he has grease all over them and embedded under his nails.
“I don’t know. Prez called. He said he needed me home because someone is there asking for me.”
“Oh, old girlfriend?” he asks. “That’ll be some drama.”
I snort, flip on the blinker, and take the next left. “No. I don’t have any old girlfriends. Violet doesn’t have to worry about that.”
“Even the old cut-sluts from the previous chapter?”
I shiver when I remember them. “Especially them. They knew the deal.” I want to scrub my body clean when I think about them.
“Wonder who it is,” he mumbles.
“We are about to find out,” I tell him as I flip the blinker on again to take another left into the clubhouse parking lot.
The parking lot is finally safe to drive through, and I can see the waves crashing against the shore again instead of ice. I can’t wait until summer. All I can think of lately is seeing Violet in a bikini that’s a few sizes too small as we sit in the sand and catch some sun. I bet her skin is sensitive. I’d have to volunteer to rub her down with sunscreen, so she wouldn’t burn.
Oh, the horror.
Ha. Not.
I can’t wait to get my hands on that body and feel the sun’s warmth against her gorgeous flesh.
I park the truck and get out, looping the key ring around my finger and swinging it. Arrow is right behind me, and the wind tunnels through the breezeway, brisk and fucking freezing.
I knock on Prez’s office door, which has “PRESIDENT” stamped across the front in a metal plate.
“Come in,” he shouts.
I swing it open and find him scribbling something down. “Prez, you wanted to see me?” I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous. Last time my Prez wanted to see me, I was