Before & After - Nazarea Andrews Page 0,46

her cheeks red and her hands shaking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this furious. “You have no right to even be here.”

He smiles, a lazy arrogant thing that makes my heart pound. “I have the only right.”

And then he escorts me out of my parent’s house.

Chapter 21: Before

Scott is actually sitting on the new couch when I emerge from my bedroom. Lindsay and Peyton are in the kitchen, and I glance at my best friend in a rare moment without either present. “You good, dude?” I ask.

His eye flick to mine and I’m startled by what I see there. He looks peaceful. Content. That’s a look I’m not used to seeing on Scotty. It’s almost disturbing.

“I’m good,” he says, and the last band of unease loosens. Because it’s going to work. This. Us together, with the women we fucking adore. It’s going to work. He grins suddenly. “Broke in the new bed, huh?”

“You and Linds didn’t exactly go to sleep after bedtime prayers,” I deadpan.

He laughs, a satisfied noise. “Well, she did say ‘Oh God’ a lot, so I think that should totally count.”

“Can you two behave for like, five minutes?” Lindsay asks grumpily, slipping past me to nestle against Scott on the couch.

“Where the hell is the fun in that?” Scott asks, kissing her head absently. “You got class today?”

She nods. “We both have our schedules on the fridge.”

I frown at Scott. "When the fuck did we become dudes with schedules on the fridge?"

"When you fell for a siren in a bar," he shoots back. "Quit bitching. I like sex on the regular."

"Like that was ever an issue," Lindsay snorts, and he smacks her lightly on the back of the head. Peyton ambles up with a cup of coffee and two pieces of toast. I steal one and she growls when I drift too close to her coffee. I laugh softly and kiss her cheek instead. She's not a friendly person in the morning, especially before coffee.

"You need a ride today?" I ask, and she shakes her head, pulls the coffee away from her lips long enough to murmur, "Linds will take me."

"When are your parents getting into town?" Lindsay asks, and Peyton goes tense under my arm. I glance at her and she's glaring at her best friend like Lindsay just stabbed her dog.

"Fish?" I ask, softly.

She breathes out a curse and twists to look at me. "Tomorrow. My parents and youngest brother will be here tomorrow. Dad has a fundraiser. I've been invited."

My head is spinning and I take a step back. I'm conscious suddenly of the tattoos tracing up and down my arms, the eyebrow ring, too-long hair. and beard.

I'm a fucking tattooed hillbilly rock star, and not even a good one. Why the hell is it surprising that she doesn't want to share that with her parents?

It's not. But it stings. More than I want to admit, it stings. Because I thought we were past this. I thought we were in a good fucking place. I've been waiting for six months for the shoe to drop, and I had convinced myself it wouldn't.

It just fucking did.

"I see," I say, simply.

Then I turn and stalk out of the room, slamming the door behind me on her protests and Scott's sharp voice calling Lindsay off.

It doesn't fucking matter. She'll have a pretty excuse, some logical reason why I should swallow her hiding her parents from me. But it doesn't matter. The door opens behind me, but I don’t stop walking.

"Rike, stop!" she snaps, yanking on my arm, and jerking me around to face her. "Let me fucking explain."

"Why? It’s shit I've heard before. I don't really want to rehash, and you'll be late." I force a smile. "You can't be late on your first day of class, Fish. Get going."

She stares at me for a long moment before a disbelieving laugh bubbles up. "Is that really all you've got? You'll be late, get going? Are you fucking serious?"

"What do you want me to say?" I snap. "Your parents are coming into town. You hid that from me. You’re embarrassed. I get it. He's a politician and she's a perfect political wife, and I'm a tattooed high school drop out with a juvie record. I get it. I'm not take-you-home-to-Mom material. But fuck, Peyton. It hurts a little."

She's pale, her freckles standing out against her white skin as she stares at me with wide eyes. "Is that really what you think of me?"

“What did you expect