Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,115
new anti-gang unit just frothing at the mouth to come after us.” Hael keeps pacing, and then I hear something I never expected: him cursing in French.
Whoa.
What the fuck?
“Is it yours, bro?” Vic asks, glancing my way and studying me like he expects me to give up my feelings that easily. I smile, just to throw him off. On the inside, I'm screaming and I'm not sure why. My body aches from all the places Vic touched me, and my skin is just as marked with his touch as his is with mine. We owned each other last night, no doubt about that.
“No!” Hael shouts, and then he grabs Kara's pink football from the lawn and throws it as hard as he can against the trunk of one of the trees that lines the edge of the yard. He's not bad, either. Interesting, considering how much he hates football players. “It's not mine, it can't be. I haven't slept with her since the weekend before Labor Day. No way. No fucking way.”
“Then calm the hell down, and we'll deal with it,” Vic says, his voice smooth and dark. “Why would she claim it was yours? What's her motivation here?”
“I don't know,” Hael says, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling. “I have no clue.”
“She's in love with Hael,” Callum supplies, leaning up against the garage door and listening intently to the conversation, arms crossed over his chest. The front door opens and Aaron and Oscar step out while Hael continues to curse and pace in circles across the grass.
“Hey, Mr. Peters!” Aaron calls out, smiling and waving to the old man across the street, his faux smile fading into a very real frown as soon as the neighbor grumbles something under his breath and disappears into his house. “Fucking nosy fossil,” Aaron murmurs, lighting up a cigarette. “What's going on anyway?”
“Brittany's pregnant,” I say again, like I'm trying to make myself get used to the idea. Why do I even care? Because the Havoc Boys were always supposed to be mine. The thought pops into my head, and I shiver. I hate it when my subconscious calls out the lies I tell myself. Fuck Havoc. I don't care about Havoc. I'm only here for revenge.
All lies.
They've always been lies.
“Pregnant?” Aaron chokes out with a groan. Oscar just narrows his gray eyes and taps the fingers of his left hand on the face of the watch he's wearing on his right. “Hael, man, come on.”
“It's not mine,” Hael repeats for the hundredth time. “If I thought it was, I'd …” He trails off and shrugs. “Jesus.”
“Jesus isn't responsible for sleeping with that brain-dead whore,” Oscar says, crossing his arms delicately over his chest. “That was all you. Now, what's our plan?”
“Why do you think Brittany's in love with Hael?” I ask Callum, and he shrugs again.
“She has been since the lake trip last year. It's all in her face. She cares too much what Hael thinks. It might not be his baby, but she wants it to be. Maybe even believes it.”
“What are you, a fucking mind reader?” Hael asks, scowling at his friend. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“So, if she's not in love with you, what's her motivation?” Callum retorts, giving a snippy little smile in response to Hael's glower. “Tell us, we're waiting.”
“I warned you not to fuck that girl,” Vic says, shaking his head like a disappointed father. He sighs like he's beyond exhausted. Maybe he is, considering how little sleep we got last night. “And now we have yet another problem on our very full plate. Let me think this over for tonight. Go home to Marie. She's threatened to report you as a runaway again if you don't show up tonight.”
“Fine,” Hael snaps, moving over to his Camaro and climbing inside. He slams the door and peels out of the driveway. Marie … I feel like I know that name. Pretty sure Marie is the name of Hael's mother. For as long as I've watched these boys across the playground, I've never been able to get close. They're all mysteries, even Aaron. Especially Aaron.
“Take my girl home, Aaron,” Vic says, casting one, last glance my way, like he's waiting for me to acknowledge the hot ache between my thighs, the finger-shaped bruises on my hips, and the bite marks on my neck.
Aaron grits his teeth; there’s no way he missed the word my in that request.