No Good: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Stevie J. Cole

  Hendrix: Fuck yeah!

  Most people wouldn’t up the ante with me—especially not a girl. Girl or not, she’d fucked with the wrong guy because I would burn her shit to the ground.

  A horn blared, and I glanced up from the text to Nash’s dented van idling at the crosswalk.

  I hopped in, dragging a hand through my hair as he pulled off. Because this shit was unbelievable, and the longer I thought about, the angrier I became.

  Nash dropped me at the impound. I paid the stupid fee—using the last of my money—then drove back home. I slowed to a stop in front of Nora’s house, staring across the street at my dad’s truck parked haphazardly in the drive. The front bumper touched the side of the carport.

  If I had to guess, he was still half-drunk, assed-out on the couch from the poker game he’d probably lost his unemployment check to the night before.

  He was the kind of man who played the villain in most made for TV movies, and I hated him.

  I killed the engine and made my way up the monkey-grass-lined sidewalk, past the potted plants on the front porch, then I knocked on the door. And waited, staring at the wooden, hand-painted “Welcome” sign. Nora and I didn’t exactly get along, but her family were nice, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t envy that.

  The door opened with a creak of hinges. When Nora’s gaze met mine, she rolled her eyes, then leaned back from the doorframe. “Arlo,” she shouted. “Your brother’s here.”

  His excited squeal echoed down the hall. Nora just stood in the doorway, glaring.

  “Thanks for grabbing him last night,” I said. Being nice to her was pretty much the same as trying to swallow a cactus—painful and awkward. But she’d helped my brother out. I had no choice but to be less of a dick to her now.

  “Yeah. It’s fine.” She brushed her nails on her shirt. “I don’t like you, but he’s cute.”

  Arlo shot around her like a canon, then latched onto my leg. “I’m glad they didn’t keep you.”

  “Yeah, me too, buddy.” I scrubbed a hand over his messy hair, giving Nora one last, thankful glance before we turned and headed to my car.

  “Why’d you park here?”

  “Because…” I didn’t want to deal with Dad, so I opened the back door, motioning Arlo in. “Wanna grab a Happy Meal and go to Hendrix’s to play on his PlayStation?”

  His eyes lit up, and he hopped right in, buckling himself up with a grin. “Yeah! He’s got that game with girls in short dresses.”

  “You are not playing Grand Theft Auto, Arlo.”

  A Happy Meal later, Arlo sprinted across Hendrix’s living room, the paper bag in tow as he snatched the game controller from the coffee table. “This is the best day ever!” He threw himself down onto the ratty couch cushions before fishing out a handful of fries.

  Hendrix stood by the kitchen, eyeing the bag. “You didn’t ask me if I wanted a Happy Meal, cocksucker.”

  I flipped him a bird, told Arlo not to play anything other than SpongeBob, then followed Hendrix into the kitchen.

  He hopped onto the laminate countertop, cracking open a can of soda. “Did they make you get naked and lift up your ball bag?” He grinned before slurping back his drink. “Zepp said that’s what they made him do.”

  “Man, shut up.” I grabbed a spatula from the stove and hurled it at him, but he ducked. “Zepp’s in prison. I was only there for ten hours.”

  “Why’d you have weed in the car anyway, dickstench?”

  “I didn’t.” I combed my fingers through my hair, pacing the small space between the kitchen table and the cabinets. Pissed.

  Drew may not have been competition, but she was definitely a problem. A big, hot-ass problem. I recalled how smug she looked, leaned against the smooth paint of her expensive car, watching while the cops hauled me off—to jail. She was a used-to-be rich girl, which meant she probably had no idea what the implications of what she’d done actually held—of course, she didn’t. Or she would have planted more than a dime bag of weed. But still. Forget the record. Forget the inconvenience. She’d inadvertently put Arlo in danger, and that was enough to make my blood boil white-hot. And the more I thought about it, the more sinister my thoughts of retaliation grew.

  Hendrix stared at me. “Fuckface! Why was there weed in your car? That’s like the cardinal sin of—”

  “The new girl set me up.”

  His eyes popped wide, and he lowered the soda to his side. “Oh, it’s on now, cocksucker.” He hopped off the counter. “It’s on now. ‘Cause she just put her feet all over your rug.” He tapped the toe of his sneaker over the kitchen rug. “Just like that.”

  And that was an understatement.

  8

  Drew

  Steam billowed out of the enclosed shower when I opened the door. My mood had greatly improved since I’d watched the cops haul Bellamy away in the back of a police car. I knew he wouldn’t stay in jail for a dime bag, but that hadn’t been my intention.

  Last night, the entire point had been to show Bellamy West that he was not screwing with some “wet behind the ears” little rich girl. That I could, in fact, get to him.

  I wrapped a towel around me, then wiped a visible patch through the fogged-over mirror to clean up the mascara below my eyes before I headed into my room. I made it two steps over the hardwoods then froze before stumbling into the doorframe on a scream when I noticed Bellamy’s tall frame stretched out across my bed.

  “You always scream like that when a guy’s in your bed?” Bellamy asked. One arm rested behind his head like he belonged here. “Huh, baby girl?” He glanced up from the picture of Genevieve and me he held in his free hand, then tossed it to the foot of the bed. That was when I noticed the metal baseball bat beside him, nestled among my blankets.

  Something crashed downstairs, followed by a guy shouting. More things shattered. And I was frozen in place, freaking out completely.

  He was in my house. And he didn’t come alone. Fear shot to the forefront of my mind, full force. An alarm wailed at me to run, or at least try to make it to my dad’s room where he kept a gun, but I didn’t even know how to use a gun. My heart pounded out a frantic rhythm as I pressed my back to the wall, trying to keep as much space between and the baseball bat wielding maniac as possible.

  “Is this where you murder me?” I whispered.

  A deep chuckle crept through his lips as he shoved to his feet, wrapping his fingers around the metal bat. “Couldn’t fuck you if I killed you, now could I?” he said, twirling the bat as he took slow steps toward me. “And that is what I promised, isn’t it? To fuck up your life. Then fuck you?” He lifted the bat, then swung it at the pictures and figurines on my dresser, sending them crashing against the wall. Then he moved closer.

  And I didn’t want him anywhere near me.

  I edged toward my bedroom door, trying to keep a clear escape route.

  “Aw. What’s the matter?” A mocking frown settled on his perfect face. “Scared?”

  The noise of the house being completely destroyed echoed up the stairwell, and I wondered how many of them there were. “How did you get in my house?” I took a couple more steps, trying to stay calm, trying not to have a complete breakdown and beg him not to hurt me. Because the look on his face said he was about to.

  “Well…you see, Drucella. I’m a criminal. But you know that.” Then his expression shifted, and he rushed me. “Since you got me fucking arrested.”

  I yelped when his hard body forced me to the wall.

  “Still wanna be the worst thing to happen to me?” His finger traced the top of my towel.

  When it hooked beneath the edge, my pulse jumped into a frenzy, but I somehow managed to summon the courage to still his hand against my chest. “What are you going to do, Bellamy?”

  He focused on his hand now resting over my bare skin, then smirked. And if I had to guess, what had him so amused was the ever-quickening thump of my heart against his palm.

  “Where would the fun be if I told you?”
His hand slid up my chest until his fingers wound around my throat. “You fucked up, Drew.” His body pressed harder to mine, until I could feel every ripple, every bulge of muscle tensing and coiling in anger. “You really, really fucked up…”

  I closed my eyes while willing my knees not to buckle. He tapped the bat over the floor for a second, then stopped, slipping it underneath my towel and pressing the cold metal between my legs, making me flinch “I could fuck you up...” His hot breath washed over my lips. “Real good, baby girl.”

  These were not the games we played at Black Mountain. This wasn’t manipulation or payback. This was crossing a line I was not prepared to go over, but it was too late, Bellamy was right here, like a devil dragging me right over it.

  He slipped the bat against my pubic bone, right over my clit, and my body reacted in ways I wished it hadn’t. A combination of fear and arousal that made my skin tingle with awareness.

  “The thing is, baby girl. You getting me arrested really fucked some shit up. So, you understand why I have to fuck your shit up, right?” He brushed his lips to min. “No hard feelings, right?” He dropped the bat back to his side, but his hold on my throat remained.

  His eyes searched mine and a slow smirk pulled at his lips. “You like this shit, don’t you?” I would never, ever admit that to him though. I didn’t like feeling scared, and the fact that I wanted that bat between my legs in this situation, had me questioning my sanity. His fingers twitched over my neck. “Someone’s got some daddy issues...” He laughed before his grip loosened. He took a step back. “Sweet dreams, baby girl.” Then he took a swing at my TV before passing into the hall. His footfalls moved toward the stairwell then down the steps.

  The noise of things breaking fell silent and seconds later, the front door opened and closed. I sagged like a puppet with cut strings and drew in a deep breath. This was insane. He was insane... I hurried to throw on clothes before rushing downstairs. It was carnage. The smashed big screen TV hung from the wall. Vases, artwork, furniture, all either smashed or broken. Even the couch looked like someone had sliced open the cushions and tossed the stuffing everywhere. I called the police and told them I’d come home to a break in. Then I texted Olivia, asking if I could stay the night. Because the last place I wanted to be was here. Alone.

  Olivia sat across her kitchen island, staring at me wide eyed. “He broke into your house? Shit, are you okay?”

  Now the adrenaline had worn off and whatever sick shit had been going on in my mind had left, I was terrified. My hands were shaking, heart racing.

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

  “He’s Bellamy West, Drew! Those guys go to jail and burn cars and break legs.” She spun the barstool around, shaking her head. “Shit. What did he steal?”

  “Nothing.” Just trashed the place.

  Confusion blanketed her face. “Then why the hell did he break into your house?”

  To threaten me? To trash it? Make it known that he could get in? “I...” I paused, drawing a line over the condensation on my water glass. “Might have gotten him arrested.”

  “You—” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she held up her palm. “Girl, you have no idea what you’re messing with.”

  “Look, he got me fired!”

  She slapped a hand over the counter and rolled her eyes. “You were working a gross drive-thru. He did you a favor, my God, you—”

  “That’s not the point! He’s an asshole.”

  “Whose an asshole?” Olivia’s brother, Jackson, walked into the kitchen, no shirt, just sweatpants and his blond hair messy from a shower. He winked at me before opening the refrigerator. “Hey, Drew.”

  “Jackson!” Olivia huffed, thumbing back at me. “She got Bellamy West. Arrested!”

  “Fuck those guys.” A grin settled on his face as he grabbed an energy drink and closed the fridge door. Then he held up a hand like he expected me to high-five him. A high-five that Olivia promptly slapped away.

  “Uh. No. Jackson! She got him arrested—” Her eyes widened. “And he knows. That’s nothing to celebrate.”

  Jackson popped the top to the canned drink, then took a sip. “Want me to handle West for you?”

  “Uh…” My gaze shifted from him to Olivia. I liked Olivia, and I didn’t want to be responsible for her brother getting his ass beat. Because Jackson was nice and Bellamy broke into my house with a baseball bat. Bellamy would slaughter him.

  “Don’t be stupid, Jackson,” Olivia snapped. “It’s Bellamy West and his little gang of thugs. He will pummel you.”

  “Screw you, dog-faced gremlin.” He glared at her, then stormed into the living room.

  Olivia mumbled about how stupid he was beneath her breath before she turned to face me. “Just…” She clasped my hand. “Tell your dad. He’ll pull you out, right? I mean, this isn’t even funny....”

  That what? That Bellamy had gotten me fired from Frank’s, then I’d had him arrested, and now he’d broken into our house and trashed it. No. That would absolutely be my fault in his eyes. I’d spend another two years owing him for all the furniture Bellamy and his friends just ruined.

  Her fingers drummed over the counter on a concentrated stare. Then the drumming stopped. “You should just get expelled. That’s what you do.”

  That... wasn’t the worst idea.

  Olivia went to the fridge, pausing in front of the opened door. “This is like, totally insane. Like binge-worthy Netflix insane.”

  For her maybe, sitting pretty in Barrington, but for me, I was about to have to walk back into the hell-hole, and I’d pissed off the Devil. “I can’t tell him. And I have to go to school with him tomorrow.” I groaned.

  9

  Bellamy

  “She wasn’t dealing weed!” some kid named Dickey shouted, cowering into the locker to block himself from a punch.

  And that right there was absolute shit. The rumor—yes, rumor—that some kid had been pushing weed through Frank’s had caught on like wildfire. Which meant no one had been selling weed through the drive-thru.

  “I mean…” Wolf shrugged his shoulder while Hendrix held the guy to the wall. “No one’s said they actually bought any…”

  I moved toward the kid, bringing myself eye-level with his ready-to-shit-on-himself expression. “How sure are you?”

  “Nikki sucked my dick for me to say it. I’m patient zero.” The guy flinched like he expected me to punch him, and when I didn’t, the word vomit spewed. “I didn’t even know a Drew. I just thought it was some guy Nikki was mad at, and I just figured— It was just a lie. I’m sorry. I just really wanted my first blowjob, man.”

  First blowjob. Jesus Christ. I nodded at Hendrix, and he reluctantly let the guy go. “Bullshit, Bellamy,” he huffed, pointing at the kid slowly creeping along the wall of lockers. “He should’ve gotten two black eyes. Not just one.”

  Then the kid shot off, sneakers squeaking over the tiled floor as he rounded the corner.

  Wolf clapped a hand to my shoulder. “And the level of psycho just moved to ten: sucking dick like a crack whore to spread a stupid rumor.”

  I jerked away from his hold and started down the hall, fuming, even though I’d done what needed to be done to save face. Regardless. If a rumor starts that someone’s dealing, we have to handle it. But where most kids shit their pants trying to convince us it’s bullshit the second we look at them, Drew had antagonized me. Then gotten me arrested and pissed me off to the point that I committed a fucking felony by breaking into her house.

  Maybe I’d kill her and Nikki both.

  “I’ll see you guys later.” Wolf ducked into a classroom, while Hendrix followed behind me, mumbling about not getting to beat that kid’s ass. The farther down the hall I went, that anger dissipated into something else. Jesus Christ—I stopped mid-stride, patting my tightening chest. That was guilt. Guilt! Over what? Getting her fired and destroying her house because she wanted to...do whatever it was Drew did. That was bullshit. She brought that on herself.
<
br />   Hendrix punched me in the gut. “Why are you at her locker?”

  Because I put time into fucking her life up when she wasn’t doing shit. “Go to class, Hendrix.”

  His eyes slowly widened. Then he shoved me. “Oh. Hell no, man. Do not go all soft on her because you wanna piece of that ass. She stepped on your rug.” He tapped a toe over the tiles. “You can’t be hunching the ones that’ll step on your rug.”

  I shoved him. “I’m not going fucking soft. Go to class, would you?”

  But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he banged his forehead against Drew’s locker. “She got you arrested, cumstain. Where’s the retaliation? The bloodshed? The war?”

  “We broke into her house, dipshit,” I said. “And demolished it. What else do you want to do?” I stared down the bustling hallway, searching out Drew’s perfect curves. “Burn her car?”

  “Well, to start with. Yes…”

  I leaned against the locker and shook my head. There was no pleasing Hendrix, especially since his brother was no longer around to rein his ass in. “We’re not burning her car—or her house. It’s over with, man. We scared the shit outta her, and she wasn’t even doing anything.”

  He grabbed his head like he was trying to hold in a nuclear explosion. “Cocksucker! Who cares? That’s even worse! She wasn’t doing diddle-fuck-what, and she still—” He hopped up and down, slamming his feet over the floor. “Feet. On. Rug. What are you gonna let her do next, take your balls and hand-milk them for every precious drop of jizz you’ve got?”

  I just wanted answers, and dipshit here would never get that. “Go to class, asshole.”

  Huffing, he slowly moved away from the lockers, pointing at me. “Whipped by a pussy you haven’t even pounded. That’s sick, man.” He kept backing down the hall. “Absolutely sick.”