I’d just shoved the last of Waffle Hut’s godawful fries into my mouth, feeling like I may puke, when the bell over the door jingled.
“Aw, hell.” Max grinned, nodding toward the door. “Looks like we’ll get to it earlier.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Bellamy, Wolf, and Hendrix standing in the doorway. Fists balled by their sides, and Bellamy’s angry gaze homed in on me.
How the hell did Bellamy know where we were?
“Heard you gotta problem with me, Bennett?” Bellamy jerked his chin up. “Wanna beat my ass?”
“You told him, Drew?” Jackson shook his head, swearing under his breath.
“Not like that’s a secret!” I directed my glare toward Bellamy. I helped him out, and he dropped me in it.
“She doesn’t have shit to do with it,” Bellamy said, pushing up his sleeves.
Olivia glared at me. “Seriously? You’re loyal to the trash you’re fucking now, Drew?” Her gaze dragged over me, shifting into the way she looked at everyone from Dayton. Like I was beneath her.
Hendrix took a step forward. “Pissed that Bell face-fucked your girl, Bennett?”
And on that comment, Jackson shot out of the booth, followed by Max. The other two guys moved down the aisle behind them.
“Your dumbass didn’t learn your lesson the first time?” Wolf said, glaring at Max.
Hendrix nudged Wolf, bouncing on his feet like a puppy. “They think they’re gonna whoop our ass, Wolf. Because we don’t have baseball bats this time.” He tossed his head back on a cackle. “Dumb shits.”
Bellamy moved to the front, drumming his fingers over one of the empty tables. “I tell you what, Bennett. You get on your knees right now like the little bitch you are, and I won’t beat your ass for talking to my girl.”
That should have pissed me off because I was absolutely not his girl. But damn if it didn’t turn me on. Because it was possessive and arrogant and everything bad boy.
“Your girl?” Jackson laughed. “You want your ass beat over that bitch, West?” Jackson said.
Bellamy’s jaw set. Blind rage blanketed his face. Jackson took a swing. Bellamy didn’t even flinch, simply ducked, then popped up and socked Jackson square in the temple.
Jackson’s head snapped to the side before he fell to a heap on the tile floor.
“Now, who's the bitch?” Bellamy spat on him, and all hell broke loose.
The rest of the guys went at each other, everyone throwing jabs. Hendrix screamed “cocksuckers” at the top of his lungs before literally leaping into the fray. I couldn’t tear my eyes from Bellamy, the way he moved so effortlessly, all coiled muscles with an air of calm that contradicted the violence. I liked to think I was above such things. Turned out, I really wasn’t. The way he moved made me crave his scarred hands at my throat, his body over mine, dominating me—sick, twisted, addiction.
Olivia pulled her phone from her purse, swiping her fingers over the screen before placing it to her ear. “Yes. I need to report a fight…”
Shit. I grabbed Nora’s arm and dragged her out of the booth, ducking around fallen Barrington guys and swinging fists before I hauled her out the door into the humid Alabama air.
Nora followed me out onto the highway, making it past the pawnshop before she stopped and sighed. “We can’t walk home.”
“It’s fine.” I tapped over my phone as we walked down the litter-strewn shoulder. “I’m getting an Uber.” Correction, there were none because it was Dayton! Cars rushed by us, and a truck beeped its horn, kicking up a gust of wind. We kept walking, and my mind whirled at a hundred miles an hour. Bellamy, Jackson, Max...Nora turned up with Max. The idea that she might date a guy like that left a horrible sick feeling in my gut.
“You know, I really don’t think Max is a good guy, Nora.”
“Drew...”
“I spoke to a girl today who was date raped by him. Call it gut instinct, but I believe her.”
She huffed and folded her arms over her chest. “Can we not talk about this right now?”
I glanced at her, with her chin dropped to her chest, traipsing along beside me. She looked defeated, and I had a feeling she did, in fact, believe it; she just didn’t want to. She wanted the guy to actually like her, and that was understandable. I felt bad for her. “Okay.”
We made it halfway down the shittiest block I’d ever walked in my life before a car slowed beside us. The passenger window lowered, and Bellamy leaned around Hendrix. “Get in the car, Drew.”
Hendrix glared at me from the passenger seat like I’d stolen his favorite toy.
Nora crossed her arms over her chest. “So what? We can get hauled off to jail when they report your tag, Bellamy. No thanks. We’ll walk.”
I took one look at the hookers loitering outside the pawnshop across the street. The car idling at the corner with what was one hundred percent a drug deal going down.
Hendrix leaned over the lowered window, grinning. “Aw, Snora Nora is all pissy wissy because her Barrington turd bucket got his ass handed to him. Again.”
“I don’t give a shit if you wanna get in Nora. But Drew...You get the fuck in.” Bellamy’s voice was authoritative and deep, and it sent white-hot heat crawling into my cheeks.
Hendrix slumped in the seat, rolling his eyes while he mocked Bellamy.
I turned to Nora. “Just get in. It’s like five minutes or a half-hour walk through...this shit.” For all of Bellamy’s shit, I knew he wouldn’t actually leave her here.
“Whatever,” she said before moving toward the car.
Hendrix climbed out of the front, throwing himself into the back and patting his thigh. “Time to get all cozy, Nora Bora.”
The scent that was all Bellamy greeted me the second I sank into the passenger seat. His hand landed on the stick shift, and my attention went to his grazed knuckles before moving to the split in his lip. I told myself that the heat churning in my gut was just a reaction to the violence, but I knew it was more than that. Bellamy was a brand of awful that I wasn’t even sure I wanted to escape anymore.
He floored the engine, fishtailing back onto the highway before running a red light. When we reached the interstate, Hendrix popped between the seats.
“You two gonna fuck like stray cats and dogs tonight or what?” He whacked Bellamy on the back of the head. “Meow-fucking-meow.” He flopped onto the backseat on a cackle.
“No. I hate him,” I said, turning around to face the back of the car.
“Like that means shit. I hate Hora Nora, but I’d still let her sit on my dick and take a spin. Don’t worry, stumpy legs, no one will judge your judgment if you take a ride on my Whorey-Go-Round.” He pinched Nora’s side, and she slapped him in the face. I gaped for a moment because everyone knew Hendrix was crazy.
“And now you’ve given him a boner, Nora.” Wolf shook his head. “Congratulations. He’s gonna hump your leg like a dog with its red rocket out.” The guys all laughed while Nora glared at Hendrix like she’d choke him if she could.
The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and I faced the front again, unable to ignore the way the streetlight played over the shadows of Bellamy’s face. He turned and caught me staring. “Don’t worry, I hate you, too, baby girl.” His hand landed on my thigh, rough fingers sweeping over sensitive skin.
I turned my gaze out the window, staring at the boarded-up buildings around us while trying not to react to the heat of Bellamy’s palm branding my flesh, promising he would eventually own me. Nora sighed from the backseat. “You know you guys are gonna get arrested?”
The guys barked out laughs. When the light turned green, Bellamy moved his hand from my thigh, shifting into first, and I missed that contact.
“Come on, Hora Nora, that’s not how shit works between Dayton and Barrington. You know that.”
Bellamy weaved in and out of traffic, eventually taking a hard turn into Barrington and gunning it through the subdivision. The brakes screeched when he slammed to a halt in front of my dr
ive. Nora shouted for Hendrix to move before the back door opened, then slammed it shut.
“Thanks for the text.” Bellamy brushed his rough, battered knuckles over my cheek, and my heart fluttered like a dying bird. “It was cute.”
I swept my thumb over his split lip. “Put some ice on that,” I said, then I got out of the car.
Nora stood in my driveway, glaring at Hendrix, whose face was plastered to the back window. His tongue pressed over the glass before the car sputtered off.
“That…” Nora pointed down the street as the taillights of Bellamy’s car disappeared around the corner. She started up my sidewalk, toward my house, stopping at the door to wait on me. “Seriously, Drew, I’m telling you, you keep messing around with Bellamy, and you’re gonna get hurt.”
That was nothing I didn’t already know, but I couldn’t stop myself. He was like a tsunami I couldn’t outrun, and I knew I’d just chosen him over my friends. He had my loyalty, whether I liked it or not. I was going to drown.
I unlocked the door, then shoved inside the cold foyer. “It’s not like that.”
“I saw his hand on your thigh, Drew.”
“It’s...” I dropped my keys to the entranceway table, then we headed through the dark house toward the stairs.
“It was a ride home, Nora. What was he gonna do? Leave us to walk through Dayton…”
“Did you miss the part where he called you his girl? Or where he was willing to leave me while demanding you get into his car?”
“He was just saying that to wind Jackson up.” And I like it, way too much. I changed out of my clothes, pulling on an oversized T-shirt before I settled on the bed beside her. “And he wouldn’t have left you.”
“Had it just been me, he wouldn’t have stopped in the first place. He’s not nice, Drew.”
No, he wasn’t, but for all the shit between Bellamy and me, he’d never hurt me. Although I now realized how easily he could have; I understood the wide berth people gave them in the hallways. The fear, the reverence. In my world, money was power, but in theirs, violence ruled. And that, they had in spades.
“I’m just trying to warn you. Fuck him all you want, whatever. Just don’t fall for him. Okay?”
Nora fell asleep, and though I usually found the sound of another person’s breathing comforting—thanks to always sharing a dorm—I couldn't sleep. My mind was a jumbled mess, my body restless—and it was Bellamy’s fault. I couldn’t get him out of my head. I’d tried to block him out after the party at Jackson’s house, told myself he was bad and that I was done, but we weren’t done.
Me: You called me your girl...
Dickhead: Yep
That was it, not, “because you are” or, “I was just winding Jackson up.” Just “yep.”
Dickhead: So, are you going to tell me why you were with him?
How quickly he moved on, and to such an obvious topic. I didn’t owe him an explanation, but after the beating he’d just given Jackson, I could surmise that this was a very sore spot right now. Whereas Jackson had always seemed like the good guy, tonight I saw that he wasn’t. He wanted to pit eight against three, was friends with a guy who would date rape girls, and the way Olivia looked at me... I thought maybe they were nice, so long as I fit into the perfect Barrington box. They were no better than my dad. And now, I was no better than the trash I’d “sided” with. I’d sooner be trash than an asshole.
Me: We were friends. Not after tonight, though.
I didn’t really have any friends here other than them, but whatever. I’d rather hang out with Dayton kids than fall into the predictable role of the stuck-up rich kid. I didn’t get it, the vehemence toward a person simply because they didn’t have money.
Dickhead: Can’t say I’m sorry…
Me: Pretty sure you’re at the top of Barrington’s shit list. No more rich girls for you...
I really needed to let that go, but, yeah, that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Yes, I was petty and jealous.
Dickhead: I’m always at the top of that list. Only one rich girl I like. And you are definitely NOT Barrington.
I typed out a response, deleted it, typed another. All while those words played through my mind. The shittiest thing about this story is that I almost fucking liked you.
Me: I hate you.
It was true. No one had ever made me want to kiss them and kill them at the same time the way he did.
Dickhead: It wouldn’t be half as much fun if you didn’t.
Dickhead: By the way. We’re going to a party tomorrow night.
Me: Okay… Have fun?
Dickhead: You’re coming. And that wasn’t a question.
Damn the bit of me that found his commanding bullshit hot.
Me: Fine, but you’re not picking me up.
If he picked me up, it was like a date. I wasn’t sure I was ready to date Bellamy West.
Dickhead: Whatever you want, baby girl.
24
Bellamy
I tossed my phone onto my bed, then grabbed the bag of ice from the floor and put it back to my lip. Forget that Bennett was trying to jump us, the second I walked into that Waffle Hut and saw him at the table with her, war drums went off in my head, calling some primitive part of me to battle. Because whether she liked it or not, the very animalistic part of me had claimed her as mine.
That was what I’d surrendered to tonight, and her leaving with me meant she’d inadvertently surrendered to it, too.
My bedroom door cracked open. “Bubba!” Arlo slipped inside, then leaped onto my bed. “I’m hungry. Momma went to work early, and there’s no Spaghetti-O's.”
I tossed the ice-bag onto the floor. “Dad didn’t feed you?”
“No.”
It was almost ten at night. Before the incident at Waffle Hut, I’d been over at Hendrix’s trying to move a car. Mom had messaged me to tell me she’d been called in when I was taking Drew home and said she was leaving a sandwich for Arlo, which, if I had to guess, Dad fucking ate in the ten minutes Arlo was here without me.
My jaw tightened as I pushed off the bed.
The hum of the television in the living room crept down the hallway, and my blood came to a low simmer.
Dad was worthless. I grabbed my shirt from the floor, pulled it on, then took the envelope filled with cash from my dresser drawer and tucked it into my back pocket. “Come on, you wanna go to McDonald’s?”
“Yeah!” He tumbled off my bed and flew to the door, stopping before he bolted out. His brow scrunched when his gaze landed on my busted lip.
“Did Daddy do that?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
I followed him into the hallway. “Busted it with the car door.” I hated lying more than anything. But some shit, he just didn’t need to know. Like that his big brother had gotten into a brawl over the girl he said would poop on him.
The ding of a bell and roar of a crowd blared from the TV before two oiled-up men went at each other in a ring. Dad sat in the recliner, passed out with a burned-down cigarette in one hand, and a whiskey bottle in the other.
My fingers twitched, the urge to knock his unconscious ass right out of that chair. But it would only cause more problems for Mom, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.
On my way to McDonald's, I stopped by the post office and dropped off the envelope, addressed to my mother, with almost two-thousand dollars in it before driving off.
The late-afternoon sun streamed through the pine trees surrounding Hendrix backyard. I finished filing off the Chevy's serial number, swatting at the mosquitoes biting the absolute shit out of me. “Come on, man. There’ll be plenty of girls there,” I said. I wasn’t even sure why I was trying to talk Hendrix into coming to the party—all he’d do would be give me grief about Drew. But he and Wolf were my boys. We did everything together.
Hendrix slammed the hood and shook his head. “I’m not going to The Dump party. The ginger’s gonna be there.” He rounded the car, snatching a wre
nch from the tall weeds before pointing it at me. “You go to that party, and you’re taking a steamer on Zepp.”
“Seriously, man?”
“Seriously, dick.”
Hendrix hated Zepp’s girlfriend’s guts because he was one hundred percent sure she was the reason Zepp had gone to prison. But Zepp himself had told me his arrest was all on him. Of course, Hendrix refused to listen because he was Hendrix. “It’s the dump, Hendrix,” I said. “That’s our territory.”
“Was! Was our territory until the ginger devil came along.” He chucked the wrench into his toolbox. “And I already told you, we’re going to the Methodist revival.”
He’d watched some documentary about cults and convinced himself that church girls were freaks. I wiped off my grease-covered hands on a towel, watching as he tossed the toolbox down then rummaged through one of the coolers on the back porch.
“I am not going to church, man.”
He cracked open a Dr. Pep and gave me a disapproving glare. “You’re going to The Dump for her. You weakling.”
“I’m going to The Dump because your theory about finding freaks at a revival is fucked up.”
Hendrix snorted. “Come on, Bell. It’s a place full of sweet, virginal girls hungry for a little taste of the devil.”
And that—that was something I wouldn't even touch. The second Hendrix and Wolf set foot in the place, it was going to go up in flames.
“You’ve got issues, man.”
He slurped back more of his drink on his way to the back door. “Whatever. Like you wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t.”
He shook his head. “Drew’s done gone and fucked you up. Passing up virgins and Jesus...” The screen door slammed closed behind him.
Oh, the girl had fucked me up all right...
I left Hendrix’s and swung by the house to grab Arlo and take him to a friend’s for a sleepover. And when I got back to the house, Dad was already shitfaced. He stood at the open fridge, swaying on his feet as he grabbed another beer.
Mom shuffled into the kitchen, pinning her dark hair away from her face before taking a can of peas from the pantry.
No Good: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 15