a few college students. This is the place to be if you’re looking for some trouble. I head down the hill toward the crowd that’s already gathering.
“Hey, Bass,” a girl calls out. I look over and see Madison, a girl who’s spent summers here almost as long as I have. Mostly I see her tits pressed tight against the fabric of her tube top.
“Hey, Mads, how are you?”
She walks over, gait a little wobbly. She’s already drunk. “Fine, fine, fuckin’ peachy.”
I slide my arm around her waist, peering down her top. “You sure look fine.”
“So do you.” Her hand presses against my abs, feeling the muscle. Madison has never been shy, but we’ve only hooked up once. “I’ve been wondering something…”
“Yeah?” I lick my lips, thinking I might be ready to raise that number to two. “What’s that?”
“Where has your brother been this summer?”
And scene.
I drop my arm but try to keep the easy expression on my face. “Heston didn’t come down with the family,” I say, trying not to grit my teeth over his name. “Busy getting ready for college.”
“Oh,” she pouts, “too bad.”
“Yeah.” I reach out to Reid and swipe the flask from his hands, taking another too-long swig. “Too, fucking, bad.”
It should make it better, not having him here. Not having to listen to the way he talks to our mom. Not needing to jump in and push back against the way he spits at and ridicules her. Not spending weeks on end, tense and mindlessly pissed off, wishing him away.
Instead, I just keep feeling all the spaces he should be. I keep coiling for fights that never come, bracing for snide remarks and hateful glares, always ready but never spent. It’s like the fighter’s equivalent of blue balls.
“Hey!” he complains, rightfully.
I swallow it down and shove it back at him. “Sorry.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out a small bag of weed, tossing it to him. “Take it.”
He nods appreciatively. “Come on, let’s light up.”
But I’ve already started skimming the crowd, looking for something, someone, a reason to blow off a little steam. It doesn’t take long when I spot a few kids that I’d beefed with a week ago over a parking spot following my last fight. They’d parked too close to my car—my sweet Jasmine—and these motherfuckers showed her no respect. Downright rude, really.
The biggest guy leans against the boat house, cat-calling a group of clearly uninterested girls nearby. They all shift uncomfortably when he says, “Come on, sweet thing! Don’t be like that.”
My hackles rise in a familiar way, shoulders going tight, face smoothing out.
“Meet you in a few,” I say to Reid, and start toward the dock. I sweep past the huddle of girls—townies, I gather, from the accents and clothes. Back home, I’m used to conservative uniforms at school and trendy outfits at parties. But these girls have an edgy grittiness that Preston Prep girls can’t buy. Frayed cut-off shorts. Worn boots. Stony expressions. I make eye contact with a pair of hard, hazel eyes and dart my gaze down to her lips. They’re pressed in a tight line. Whatever she sees in me, she’s not impressed.
Well, sweetheart, I think, justwait until I’m done with these fuckwits.
“Sugar,” the big guy pushes off the wall, leering at her, “you know, you’d be a lot prettier if you smiled every once in a while.”
Hazel eyes scowls and cuts her eyes at him, jaw setting. She’s wearing a loose flannel shirt, which should be universal code for unsexy. Unfortunately, it just makes us really wonder what’s hiding underneath. Which is exactly what’s got this dumbass up her grill.
She bites back, “You’d be a lot prettier if you fucked off and died, Derek,” and the other guys all laugh.
Derek presses a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. “Come on, Sug, I bet I could make you smile for once.” He moves closer and the group of girls parts like the Red Sea, giving him berth. The only one still holding her ground is the girl he’s harassing. She’s tiny, yet her stature implies she’s tough as nails. Long black hair hangs over her shoulder, the tips dyed blue. “We’ve fought this thing between us for too long. Stop playing frigid princess and let me warm you up.”
“Sure, I can probably find some lighter fluid,” she says, all faux-casually, looking around. “Setting you on fire could get me downright toasty.”
I snort, but he takes a step forward, and something wavers in her eye.