Bad Influence

by Charleigh Rose

  At least one of us is thinking clearly.

  Jess pushes between my shoulder blades until my chest is flat against the mattress, angles my hips upward, then slides into me from behind. I lurch forward with a gasp, not expecting how intense it would be like this.

  “Get back here,” he says, yanking my hips until my ass is flush against his pelvis. He holds me in place as he fucks me, my hands fisting the sheets, eyes squeezed shut.

  “It’s so deep,” I mumble into the mattress.

  He covers my body with his, his hands covering the backs of my own. “Not deep enough.”

  I feel his lips on the back of my neck, his sweat-slicked skin sticking to mine as he pumps his hips into me. I feel myself tightening around him as he slides in and out, over and over.

  “Fuck, I need to come,” Jesse says as he snakes a hand underneath me, rubbing my clit as he picks up the pace.

  Oh my God. Just like that, I’m contracting around him, unable to stop from grinding into his hand, my clit pulsing under his fingertips. Once I slow my movements, Jesse sits up, fucking my boneless body until I feel him jerking inside me.

  He pulls out of me, and I hear him dispose of the condom before he crawls back into bed behind my spent body, both of us lying across the bed horizontally, too tired and sated to right ourselves. His arm curls around me, cupping my breast, his chin resting above my head, and it only feels like seconds before I succumb to sleep.

  * * *

  JESSE STAYED IN MY ROOM last night, even though Dare and Lo were home. We’re getting sloppy. Careless. But something has shifted, and I think we both feel it.

  “That thing happening tonight?” Jess asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. I look over at his profile, one hand on the steering wheel, the other hand pushing through his hair. He insisted on driving me to school this morning, which is a first.

  “Yep,” I say, surprised he remembered the show.

  Jess pulls into the parking lot, cutting the engine before getting out. He rounds the hood of the truck and then he’s at my door, opening it for me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask warily.

  “Walking you to class.”

  I stay in my seat, momentarily stunned that he’s not just dropping me off, and Jesse reaches across my lap to unbuckle my seatbelt. I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “What’s with the boyfriend act?”

  “I’m walking you to class, not asking you to go steady. Chill.”

  I hop down, swinging my bag over my shoulder as I make my way toward campus, binder in hand. Jess falls into step next to me, throwing his arm around my shoulder, bringing me in close.

  What has gotten into him?

  Once we get close to the courtyard where students are milling around, we get a couple of curious looks and double takes, but Jesse either doesn’t notice it or doesn’t acknowledge it. Straightening my posture, I hold my binder at my chest, Jesse’s bruised knuckles hanging over my shoulder.

  “Shepherd!” a gruff voice calls out.

  Jess stops short at the sound of his name. When we turn around, it’s to see a middle-aged man in a white polo with a red Wildcats logo.

  “Heard you were back,” the man says, smiling like he’s genuinely happy to see him. “Staying out of trouble?”

  “Never,” Jess says as he’s pulled in for a hug, the man clapping his back.

  “Maybe I can help with that.”

  Jess looks at him inquisitively, his thick eyebrows pulling together.

  “I have to get to class,” I interrupt, hitching a thumb over my shoulder.

  “Shit, this is Allie,” Jesse says belatedly. “Allie, this is Coach Standifer. He’s the reason I’m not in jail right now.”

  Coach Standifer holds his hand out to shake mine.

  Something warms inside me as I witness their interaction. This is the first time I’ve seen Jess seem completely at ease with anyone. I can tell he respects him.

  “Well, then I’ll let you two catch up.”

  “One sec,” Jesse says, holding up a finger. He pulls me off to the side, catching me off guard as he grasps my chin, angling my face toward him, then kisses me hard, sliding his tongue into my mouth. It feels like my stomach is being attacked by a swarm of angry butterflies and I press up onto my toes, sliding my free hand up his chest.

  A forced cough from Coach Standifer has me pulling away abruptly, cheeks burning.

  “I have some stuff to do today, but I’ll see you tonight,” Jesse says, his voice quiet and deep.

  “Okay.” I nod. “Nice meeting you,” I say to Coach Standifer with an awkward wave before turning to walk away.

  * * *

  “RELAX,” DYLAN SAYS FOR THE eight-hundredth time, his hands squeezing my shoulders in an effort to loosen me up. “The hard part’s over.”

  “Seriously,” Halston agrees. “Look around. You killed it.”

  I suck in a lungful of air, taking it all in. The place is packed, way more than it was the first night I came, and way more than I could’ve hoped for. The only thing that could make it better is if my dad were here.

  “It’s go time,” I say. “You guys ready?”

  Dylan nods before joining the rest of the band on stage as the DJ wraps up the last song. Halston wraps her arms around me, giving an excited squeal as he takes the stage.

  Swinging his guitar over his shoulder, Dylan curls one hand around the mic stand. “We’re The Liars.”

  Halston and I exchange looks when he doesn’t elaborate, silence falling over the crowd.

  “Not much of an intro, but okay,” I say, clapping. Halston quickly follows suit until the audience joins in. The music starts, then everyone resumes their dancing, awkward introduction be damned.

  They play perfectly. Dylan looks like he’s born to be on stage, looking every bit of the quintessential tortured rock star.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Halston all but growls a few songs in. I follow her gaze, landing on Sully, of all people. And right behind him?

  Jesse.

  He spots me at the same time, my insides warming at the sight of him. His eyebrows pinch together, looking me up and down with heat in his gaze, and that look alone was worth letting Halston doll me up.

  After an hour of back and forth, we settled on a short red skater dress with tiny white flowers. It’s low-cut, showing more cleavage than I’m used to, flaring out just below my butt. I drew the line at heels, much to Halston’s dismay, settling on my black Docs instead.

  Jesse pushes through the crowd, stalking toward me. My stomach flips as he gets closer, and when he’s within arm’s reach, he curls a hand around the back of my head, leaning down to kiss me without a single fuck given as to who sees. I stumble back, caught off guard, but he holds me in place as his tongue slips into my mouth, dancing with mine. My hands fly to his waist, holding on as he kisses me slow and hard, as if we’re not in a crowded venue.

  “Why are you here?” Halston’s voice breaks through the trance, and I pull away, breathless.

  “It’s a free country, last time I checked,” is Sully’s smart-ass response.

  I shake my head at their bickering as Jesse moves behind me, his front to my back. “You look beautiful,” he says, bending down close to my ear. “I want to fuck you in this dress later.”

  A thrill rolls through me at his words, but when I glance up toward the stage, I see Dylan scowling at us, concern painting his features. I try to send him a reassuring smile, but his expression remains the same. Jesse’s hand comes around me, his palm flattening on my stomach as his lips meet my neck.

  “We’re going to play a cover for you all. Hope you don’t mind,” Dylan announces. Caleb and Hunter exchange confused looks. I frown, not remembering a cover on his setlist.

  When I hear the into for “Jessie’s Girl,” my jaw falls open.

  What the fuck is he doing?

  He tosses me a wink, and then starts to sing about wanting someone else’s girl. I feel the moment Jesse catches on,
his body stiffening behind me at the sound of his name coming from Dylan’s mouth.

  “Something you want to tell me, Allie girl?” Jess asks, his voice accusatory.

  “I don’t know what he’s doing,” I say, turning around to look him in the eye.

  Jesse doesn’t look convinced, his eyes set hard on the stage behind me. I tug his wrist, pulling him away from the crowd into the hall near the bathrooms.

  “Just friends, huh?” he asks bitterly.

  “We are,” I insist. “He’s just trying to get under your skin.” And I have no idea why.

  “Did you fuck him?”

  I jerk back as if he slapped me. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I bark. “Yes, I turned around and had sex with someone else during the three seconds you were gone.” Sarcasm drips from every word.

  “A guy doesn’t act like that,” he says, pointing a finger toward the stage, “unless he’s fucked you or he wants to. Which is it?”

  “Neither. But you’re one to talk. You’ve slept with half the town, and besides that,” I say, my voice growing in volume, “we said we were just having fun.”

  He brings his palms to the wall on either side of my head, caging me in. “You want to know what the difference is, Allie? I’m honest about it—thanks for throwing it in my face, by the way—and we also said no lying. Those were the rules.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.

  “And we both know this isn’t just fun anymore.”

  My mouth snaps shut, not expecting that. But he’s right. This thing between us somehow became more, whether we like it or not.

  “It was one kiss,” I say, and Jess tries to take a step back, but I curl my fist into his T-shirt, holding him in place. “It was before I met you. We were both drunk after my dad’s funeral and neither of us was thinking straight.”

  “Do you want him?”

  “Not like that. Not like I want you.”

  “You make me fucking crazy.”

  “Feeling’s mutual.”

  “Brat.”

  “Asshole.”

  Still fisting his shirt, I press up onto my toes and bring my lips to his. Jess groans, kissing me hard, but I cut it short, pulling back abruptly. “Now tell me you’re sorry.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Tell me you’re sorry for acting like I’ve ever been with anyone but you.”

  His eyes soften at my words. “This shit is new to me.”

  Internally, I scoff, a witty retort on the tip of my tongue. But his unexpected sincerity gives me pause. On one hand, I love the fact that he’s giving me something real. On the other hand, I can’t lie down and be his doormat whenever he pulls the bad-guy-sad-eyes routine.

  “It’s a pretty foreign concept for me, too, but you don’t see me going all caveman on your ass.”

  Jesse smirks, leaning down to squeeze my ass through the thin material of my dress. “I wouldn’t hate it if you did.”

  I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Come on.” I tug on his hand, pulling him back toward the crowd. The Liars are playing their last song, and I don’t want to miss it.

  When we find Halston and Sully, Halston’s laser-focused on the stage, dancing to the beat, ignoring Sully’s presence while he broods behind her, arms folded across his chest.

  I laugh, shaking my head. Seems the theme of the night is dysfunctional.

  The last song ends abruptly, the vocals and lead guitar cutting out. My eyes whip over to see Dylan standing there like he’s seen a ghost. He shrugs his guitar off and jumps down from the stage, prowling toward something. Or someone.

  “Thanks for coming out,” I hear Hunter’s voice boom over the speaker. “We’re The Liars. Follow us on the Gram for more shows. Now let’s get fucked up!”

  The audience breaks out into cheers, then the DJ starts playing “Sweet but Psycho”. Everyone goes back to dancing and drinking, Dylan’s little scene all but forgotten.

  I watch as he shoulders through the crowd to a girl I’ve never seen in my life. Her eyes widen when she notices him, and I see her mouth Dylan right before he drops a shoulder, lifting her up fireman style. She slaps and kicks, but he doesn’t so much as flinch as he carries her toward the exit.

  What the fuck?

  “Hang on,” I tell Jess and Halston, then I’m making my way over to the front of the stage. Hunter spots me, coming to squat down close enough to hear me.

  “What the hell was that?” I ask. Hunter shakes his head, lifting his palms with a shrug. “Who was that?”

  “You know Romeo and Juliet?”

  I nod. “Obviously.”

  “That would be Dylan’s equivalent of Juliet.”

  My mouth falls open. I couldn’t be more shocked if he slapped me in the face. Dylan has never mentioned a girl. I was always under the impression that he left the Eastern Shore to get away from his family, but now I’m wondering if this girl isn’t an integral piece of the puzzle.

  It’s almost closing time, and The Lamppost is still jam-packed with people showing no signs of slowing down. I yawn, in some strange state of sleepy happiness, while Jess, Sully, and Halston have a heated debate over something I stopped listening to a long time ago. Other than Dylan bailing mid-song, the night went off without a hitch, and everything feels…right. For once.

  I spot Victor by the bar and he waves me over. Anxious to see what he thinks about tonight, I tell Jess I’ll be right back before slipping away.

  “You did it, kid. I’m impressed,” Victor says with a smile.

  I can’t help but beam at him, giddy with how tonight turned out. “Thanks for giving me a shot.”

  “Of course. Can I pull you away for a celebratory drink?”

  My eyebrows jump to my hairline. I look back toward my friends, hesitating.

  “It’ll be quick. Can’t exactly have you drinking out here since you’re underage and everyone knows it. It’ll give us a quiet place to talk about what’s next for you.”

  Right. “Okay. One drink.”

  I follow him away through the mob of people, down the hall, and into a back room. He closes the door behind us, and a sense of unease settles over me, even though rationally, I know it makes sense. We can’t exactly have a conversation over the noise of the club.

  The room consists of a desk, a black leather couch, and not much else.

  “Have a seat,” he says, motioning toward the couch.

  I glance back at the door, seeing people walking back and forth through the square window, deeming it safe before I sit on the cold leather, smoothing my dress down my thighs. He ambles toward the desk where a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and two glasses are waiting. Grabbing a white washcloth, he wipes off the bottle, then turns toward me.

  “How do you feel about this becoming a permanent thing?” he asks, and when he pops the cork, I flinch, feeling both on edge and thrilled at the prospect of doing this on a regular basis.

  “Really?” I ask as he hands me a glass. I take a tiny sip, the bubbly liquid warming my throat on the way down.

  “Why not?” He gives a shrug, turning back for the desk. “You managed to triple what I made the first night. It’s a no-brainer.” He takes a seat behind the desk, pulling several things out of the drawer. I can’t tell for sure, but I think one of them is an envelope. He opens it up, then he’s waving a stack of cash at me. “Your cut,” he explains, holding it out for me.

  My eyes bulge out of my skull. I wasn’t expecting to walk away with money. Standing, I make my way toward him and he hands me the fat stack. “Thank you,” I say, trying to casually flip through it. I don’t want to count it in front of him, but there has to be at least a thousand bucks here.

  When I peel my eyes from the money, I see him bending over a piece of glass, a rolled-up dollar bill to his nose as he sniffs, sliding it along two rows of white powder.

  “You earned it,” he says, wiping the excess powder from under his nose. “You want a line?”

  “I’m good,” I say, forci
ng a casual tone. As I take a step back, his hand darts out, sliding up the back of my thigh and dipping under my dress to squeeze my ass.

  I slap his hand away, jumping back. Shock has rendered me speechless, and all I can do is stand there as my brain desperately tries to make sense of what the fuck just happened. He was friends with my dad. He’s probably fifteen years my senior. Never in a million years did I see this coming.

  “Don’t be like that,” he says, rolling his chair backwards before standing. The urge to bolt hits me just as the door flies open, smacking the wall so hard the handle leaves a hole in the wall. I jump as Jesse and Sully prowl through the room, two sets of eyes furious, two jaws set hard.

  Oh, fuck.

  Victor is visibly nervous, moving in front of the desk in an effort to hide the coke. “This is a private meet—”

  He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Jess balls the collar of his shirt in one hand and cocks his other fist back, hitting him square in the face. Victor falls back onto his desk, holding his nose as blood leaks through his fingers. Jess drags him across the desk, knocking everything off in the process, before throwing him on the floor. Victor lands on top of shattered glass with a grunt, trying to kick at Jess as he approaches.

  “Did he hurt you?” Sully asks, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to look at him. I shake my head in answer.

  “You offer my girl drugs?” Jess shouts, bringing my attention back to where he stands over Victor, who’s still laid out. “Then you think you can touch her?”

  “Jess, let’s go,” I say, moving toward him. Sully stops me by picking me up and planting me by the door like it’s nothing.

  “Stay here. I’ll get him.”

  Sully goes to pull Jesse off, grabbing one of his arms, but Jesse’s not finished yet. “Come on, man. You’re scaring her.”

  That stops him, feral eyes looking over his shoulder to meet mine. I’m not fucking scared. I’m angry. Angry that Victor pulled this shit, angry with myself for freezing and not doing anything, and angry that Jess had to come to my rescue.