Make My Move (Hannaford Prep #5) - J. Bree Page 0,33

other students dancing, none of them with half the skill or grace that we have, and further into the forest. There’s couples fucking everywhere, a few of them definitely cheating and I make a note to tell Floss. It’s always good to have ammo on the other students.

Lips comes to an abrupt halt and I plant myself behind her, the widening of her stance telling me a whole fucking heap about this situation.

It’s the same stance she had down at the docks.

So as much as it kills me, I stay behind her, just for now. The second Joey so much as flinches in her direction I’ll get around her and beat the living fuck out of the dickhead.

“This guy bothering you?”

Who the fuck is that guy? His hand slips behind his back. Fuck me, he’s offering to kill Joey for Lips?

What the actual fuck?

Every time I think I know what the actual fuck is going on with her, something like this happens and I’m back to square fucking one with no idea of who the fuck she is.

“He’s just a guy with too much money and too little respect for how things are done in the real world, boys,” Lips says, her voice strong and confident. She sounds cold and calculating though, none of the girl I know showing through.

The second guy is shitting himself. He’s standing there like he needs to climb out of his own skin to get away and his eyes are anywhere but on Lips.

“What’ll it be then? You need me to take care of him?”

Fuck, I wish we could say yes. I almost hope Lips does say yes, but Floss and Ash would never forgive her. The twisted mess of a web that their family is in would give a saint a fucking headache.

“I’m here to go to school, not start a war. Head home, boys. Hannaford isn’t the place for you.”

They leave immediately, not a single question for her once she’s given them the order. The guy who was doing the talking comes over and shakes my hand. I frown at him but, fuck, I guess this is what happens when I belong to the Mounty.

Once the car is gone, peeling away from the back parking lot with squealing tires, Joey turns back to us, completely fucking clueless to how close he’s just come to his brains being blown the fuck out.

“Who the fuck are you, Mounty?”

Isn’t that the million-dollar fucking question.

We should’ve gone straight back up to the girls’ room after we’d finished with Joey and his shitty little attempt at calling Lips out, but all of that dancing went to my head. I don’t want to admit it, and I’ve drunk enough to push it right out of my head, but I drag her back to the dance floor because I fucking crave the feel of her grinding up against me and if the rest of the night goes to shit then at least I’ll have that memory.

By the time we do finally head back, there’s barely anything left in the bottle and Lips doesn’t even notice that I’m holding her hand again. She just threads her fingers through mine and accepts my help when her leg gives out a little. The alcohol stops her from putting up so much of a front and I’m fucking praying that means she trusts me.

Fuck, I’m getting desperate for a sign that she actually gives a fuck about me. Something I can work with, because she’s the first thing on my mind every morning and the last thing running around creating chaos in my head—on the rare occasions that I get some fucking sleep.

I hate when I have to drop her hand so she can fumble around with her keys, mumbling a little under her breath, but I take a second to clear my head before I fuck this up.

“I’m sleeping in Avery’s bed tonight. If Joey comes up here again, I don’t want you alone.”

She startles a little but the door finally clicks and swings open, distracting her enough to get us both into the room. I stalk in before she can poke holes in my plan and strip out of my jacket.

Thank fuck for the whiskey.

She’s not wasted and she definitely still has her head about her, but the jumpiness in her has eased off a little and I’m not worried about getting dick punched just for fucking talking to her.

We stare at each other for a second but she doesn’t show any