throw my hands up and grin when most of them spin away to do the ‘I’m just minding my business’ dance. “Don’t fuckin’ look at me,” I grumble. I fold my arms, and watch as Manda leads Tuck and the Honda toward the starting line.
“Hey, Bry.” Blonde, blue, and quite pretty in the traditional sense, this chick sidles closer to me while most other eyes are on Tuck and the pending race.
Shyly, she comes closer, closer, closer, and wrings her hands together until she stands between my open legs, and her voluptuous push-up bra is in my face.
Slowly, I run my gaze along her clavicle, over a pretty necklace with Hayley written in gold script, and up to eyes that look uncomfortably similar to my sister’s.
Hard nope.
Instead of speaking, I only raise my brows and wait.
“Um…” She thrusts a hand forward, lets it dangle a little, and smiles when I shake it. “I’m Hayley.”
I release her hand, and finger the delicate necklace. “I know. Says so right here.”
“Oh!” Chittering – is that the word a guy would use when a nervous girl can’t decide between giggling and dissolving into a panic attack? – well, that’s the word that comes to mind. Her laughter is nervous, crackling, and awkward. “I forgot about that.” She takes the necklace, and squeaks when her hand brushes over mine. “My best friend got this for my last birthday.”
“Yeah?” I look around. Act like I might know who her best friend is if I saw her. Then I bring my eyes back to hers. “And how old were you at your last birthday, Hayley?”
Her cheeks flush hot red. “Seventeen, but—”
“Nope.” I push away from my car and gently move her back at least ten paces.
Hands on her shoulders, I keep us going until we run out of space, then I look down into her eyes and wait for her to stop fidgeting.
“You need to go the fuck home, Hayley. You need to not sneak out to Piper’s Lane on the weekends, you need to not hit on men much older than you. You’re gonna get yourself into trouble, and believe it or not, you’ll get him in trouble too.”
“Oh… I… well…”
“Did you know that on average, three babies are conceived at Piper’s Lane every single Friday and Saturday night?”
Her eyes pop wide. “What?”
“Uh huh. They did research on it. Three babies per night, and that’s an average, which means sometimes it’s way more.” I’m such a fuckin’ liar. “On top of that, they say that of the three hundred and seventy-three couples that casually hook up, seven guys are arrested because they fucked an underage chick, and twenty-three end up with chlamydia.”
“Is that…” Her hands shake. “Seriously?”
“Yup. Are you a statistic, Hayley? Or are you too smart for that stupid shit?”
“I’m not stupid,” she murmurs. “Swear.”
“Good. Get your ass home. Take your girlfriends, don’t let a single guy talk you into his car, and maybe you can try this again in a couple years.” I look around. Then back to her. “You got a ride?”
She nods. “My best friend’s brother brought us. He’s driving tonight.”
“He’s a shitty brother,” I snap. “I have a little sister too, Hayley. And I can assure you, if I brought her here to hang out, which I never would, by the way, but if I did, she and her friend would be on my arm the whole damn time, not being given freedom to hit on men they have no business hitting on.”
“I just…” Her eyes literally water.
I made her cry! This is why I have a bad reputation. Because word spreads that I make chicks cry.
“I was having a little fun,” she whimpers.
“Yeah, and the next thing you know, you can’t see your toes, because you’re pregnant, the man that tangoed with you is nowhere to be seen, and that best friend and her brother; they’re still hanging at the track, having fun, because you and your baby don’t matter to them.”
She gasps. “You’re a jerk!”
Exasperated, I throw my hands in the air. “I literally can’t win. Do whatever you’re gonna do, doll. But I strongly encourage you to take your underage ass home.”
“All the other girls are right,” she tantrums… and draws eyes. Just my fuckin’ luck. “You’re a piece of shit. You’re rude, and you treat women like objects.”
Laughing, I wish for my hat back, only so I can squish it down lower as I turn away from the child and slide into my car.
I’m the asshole, and