He eventually gave up the bottle for a while and found a good-paying job at a steel mill that hired workers with shady backgrounds and provided great benefits. My dad’s drinking gradually started to pick back up, but he didn’t get so drunk that he couldn’t function. With the money he was making, he’d be a fool to let that job go to waste, but then four months ago, he was fired from his supervisor position because the plant decided they wanted to bring more computers in to do the work to make it more cost-efficient. That left several employees, along with my dad, jobless and unable to find another job because most jobs now require their workers to have a high school diploma or GED, neither of which my dad has.
My mom had the privilege of being a stay-at-home since my dad brought in enough money to support his family and his drinking habit. My mom was smart enough to stash some of his earnings into a savings account, but the savings started to dwindle once my dad found out about the account my mom opened. He demanded that she hand over the ATM card and withdrew every cent out that account. I saw the bank statement in my mom’s name laying on the table as proof of that. I bet every fuckin’ dime was spent at his second home, the liquor store, not giving a damn if another bill got paid or not.
I started to lose respect for the man I call my dad and began figuring out ways to make extra money here and there to pay for things me and Morgan needed. Like lunch money, school fees so we can graduate, and spending money to enjoy the luxuries that came along with being a teenager.
I grab me and my sister’s cap and gown that I paid the final installments on today with my own money, still nicely folded in plastic, from the back seat and get out of my car, slamming the door shut hard behind me. Let’s get this shit over with. I walk up the dirt walkway leading to the front door while clenching my keys in my hand. Just a couple of months and you’ll be out of here. I jab my house key in the keyhole, turn the knob, step inside and close the door, pausing when I see my dad, strung-out drunk on the stairs, waiting for me.
“It’s late,” his voice comes out so hoarse that you’d think he smoked at least two packs a day. “Where in the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is, boy?”
I want to say, “Enjoying my last days as a senior. But of course, you wouldn’t know anything about that since you didn’t finish high school”, but I don’t because I still need a roof over my head until I can get out of this shithole.
I toss my keys on the entryway table, littered with framed photos of Morgan and me with a few family pictures of all of us having fun and smiling. As a family when things were good.
“I was working on a school project,” I respond half-truthfully while keeping my eyes on him. Drunk or not, my father was fast, and I didn’t want him to one-up me, especially if he decides he wants to use his fists to get his point across this time.
“You expect me to believe that shit?” The beer bottle in his hand soars past my head and hits the door behind me, raining shards of glass against the back of my neck. “Now, let me ask you again. Where in the hell have you been?”
“What in the world is going on down here?” My mom appears at the top of the steps. From where I’m standing, I can see fresh bruises on her left upper arm.
“Julie, take your ass back to bed,” my dad yells, coming to his feet only to stumble back down on the step.
My eyes lock with my mom’s. Hurt clouds her mossy orbs. This is nothing new, Mom. He’s been talking to you like you’re a piece of shit stuck on the bottom of his shoe, and now, he’s putting his hands on you. I pull my gaze away from her and back to my dad’s drunk ass. I flex and unflex my fists to warm them up if for some reason I have to defend myself. “Working on a project, like I just told you,” I finally answer his fuckin’ question.
He reaches over and grabs a beer sitting on the stair above him then twists the cap off and takes a huge gulp.
I take several steps forward, hoping by the time I attempt to walk up the stairs, he’ll move out the way.
“Stop right there.” My dad’s voice halts my steps. “Who were you working on this school project with?”
“Ava.”
“Oh, I see. I thought she was a friend of your sister.” A wicked grin slithers on his face. “So, working on a project in your terms means fucking—right son?” My dad finally comes to his feet without staggering. “Have you not learned your lesson about keeping your dick in your pants, son?” His voice rises an octave. “Don’t you remember how I had to come out of my pocket a couple of hundred dollars because of the shit you pulled with that bitch with the boyfriend.” He takes another gulp of his beer then points the long neck bottle in my direction. “You know the one where he and his friends tore up your cousin Clay’s truck and I,” his thumb jabs into his chest, “had to pay for your stupid-ass mistake.”
“And I told you that I would pay you back!” I shout. Big mistake.
I fall to my ass and grab the side of my face that’s now pulsing in pain. I glare up at my dad who’s shaking out the hand that he just punched me with.
“Bryce!” My mom cries out to my dad. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I’m named after this asshole?
“I hope that pussy was worth it, son.” He turns and starts up the stairs, stops and turns around, and sneers down at me. “You know what, son? I’m starting to see a pattern here. It seems that you and your cousin have a touch of jungle fev—”
That’s it! I’m on my feet, charging up the few stairs to get to my dad and tackling him until he falls. I’m on top of him, punching him in the face until I see red. His blood. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth!” I shout while pummeling my fists into his face. I grip his shirt close to his neck, effectively cutting off his oxygen. “In fact, keep her name out your damn mouth!”
“Bryce, get off your dad.” My mom smacks at my back. “No!” Her voice sounds far away to me. But she’s right in front of me now, trying to push me off my dad. “Stop it, Bryce, just stop it!” she shouts then slaps me across the face. The sting throbs on the other side of my face, radiating from my jaw up into my scalp and down to connect with the pulsing pain my dad gifted the other side of my face. The shock of my mom smacking me gives my dad the upper hand. He pushes me off of him, and I tumble down the stairs, landing on my back. Fuck! I close my eyes and play dead. I hear my mom asking if my dad is okay, making me cringe inside because she doesn’t seem to give a damn about me.
“The next time you come in my house this late again, it better be because you’re getting off from a late shift at work. A real job and not some damn farm work my brother shoves in your face to do.”
Tears stream from my eyes while I remain as stiff as a board on the wood floor. After several moments have passed, I finally hear my parents’ bedroom door slam shut. I slowly open my eyes and stumble to my feet. I brace myself against the banister and slowly climb up the stairs, immediately feeling the aches and pains from my fall. I pass my parents’ closed door, hearing the sound of their mattress springs squealing. They’re fuckin’ now like they always do when they argue, or it’s mom’s way of calming him down. I get to my room and close my door quietly behind me and lock it. I needed a shower and sleep, but I’m too wired.
Sleep is going to have to wait, knowing that my dad can bust down my door or take the door off the hinges with common household tools, just so he can whoop my ass for what I did to him. I limp into the Jack and Jill bathroom that Morgan and I share. The bathroom door on her side is open, giving me a view of her made-up bed. Thank God Morgan is overseas enjoying her time as a student abroad. I flip the light switch on and brace myself for what I’m going to see in the mirror. A busted lip and a huge, red bruise on my right cheekbone that I know will turn black and purple eventually greet me. I take off my clothes, wincing when I get to my shirt. I look down to see an old bruise decorating my ribcage on my right side and a new one forming right beneath it then I turn around and, in the mirror, I see a bruise on my right shoulder blade, along with small scrapes on the back of my neck.
I pull the shower curtain back and start the shower then step inside before giving the water time to heat up. The cold droplets feel so damn good against my scrapes and bruises and soothe away the ache hanging between my legs from my encounter with Ava earlier and not getting any type of sexual relief. My testicles feel full and heavy that I need to come so damn bad. I cup them, then stroke my hand up and down my hard length, hissing as I do then release it knowing this wasn’t the time to rub one out in the shower, especially after getting my ass kicked Pain and pleasure when both combined create a wonderful sensation. I shake away my fucked-up thoughts and focus on the task at hand. I needed to get clean, pack a bag, and figure out my next move.
Chapter 7
Ava
I watch the dancing shadows shooting from the hot flames flicker across the masculine features that make up Bryce’s face. My eyes trail over the orbs that draw me in more than any other guy. Strong, high cheekbones with a fading bruise on the left side of his face, kissable lips with a small cut just above the top one, and furrowed green eyes study me from across the small, blazing bonfire. There he sits, with a beer in one hand and Hope perched comfortably on his lap.
It was Bryce’s idea to get everyone together tonight to celebrate his cousin Clay’s soccer scholarship to the University of Tennessee. He thought it would cheer him up after what happened over two weeks ago when he was caught in bed with his girlfriend Kennedy who also happens to be my best friend. This incident is the reason why she was forced to live with a family member in Georgia. So far, Clay hasn’t shown up.
“He sure knows how to pick them,” Meadow, a foreign exchange student from Berlin and my girl crush, slurs. She hiccup-burps and plops down beside me then hands me a plastic red cup filled to the rim with foamy keg beer. I take a sip, immediately hating the taste. When I usually ask for a beer, I end up sipping from the same cup all night, and my taste buds eventually grow fond of the god-awful flavor.
“Wanna go somewhere and fool around?” Her German accent comes out lazy and jumbled. She shoulders me playfully then winks at me. “Come on, it’s been a while since you’ve let me kiss those lips of yours.” She brings a finger up and sweeps it across my bottom lip. I lean away. She shrugs from my rejection, brings her cup to her lips, and takes a huge gulp while her body sways from her drunkenness. Meadow is such a beautiful girl with shoulder-length platinum blonde hair, eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea, and natural, full, pouty lips. That mouth used to make my body sizzle every time she kissed me but not in a toe-curling way like Bryce’s that had me awake the other night thinking about how those soft lips possessed mine, slowly and hungrily. He’s ruined all chances of Meadow’s lips ever touching mine again. Her kisses don’t taste as good as his or make my body shiver into nonstop convulsions.
Bryce brings his beer to his lips, and I watch the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he chugs away at the yeasty brew. I pull my gaze away when Hope leans into him and starts sucking on the side of his neck.
I roll my eyes as jealousy treads through my veins.
Once upon a time, I’d find myself telling Bryce off when I would hear him brag or make crude remarks about his sexcapades, only for him to shoot back with ‘‘don’t knock it until you try it”, followed by him winking at me. Now that I’ve “somewhat tried it”, I want more.
I stand up and brush away traces of hay from my bare thighs.
“Where are you running off to?” Meadow attempts to come to her feet only to drunkenly plop back down. “I’ll come with—”
“No!” my words rush out, causing her brows to raise.
“I’m sorry.” I smile down at her. “I have to pee.” I begin to squirm like a child that can’t hold their liquids, just to get my lie across. “There’s no need. I’ll be right back. Hold my spot?”
“Of course,” she laughs. “Go before you piss on yourself because you will not be getting into my car if you do.”
I scurry off then slow down when I’m a couple of feet away from the bonfire where everyone seems to be migrating. I walk across acres of land located behind Clay’s parent’s barn, pouring my beer out along the way. I pull my phone out of the pocket of my dress and see that I missed a text from Meadow letting me know that she misses me already and to hurry back soon with a smirk emoji. I tap my fingers across the screen to respond but decide instead to delete every, single word and slide my phone back into my pocket. I need to tell her soon that things between us needed to come to an end. Whatever this “thing” was. We’re not even a couple. She satisfied my curiosity of how it would feel to be with a girl. Nothing more would come of it. Soon after graduation, she’ll be flying back to her native country anyway.
I keep walking until I see an old, once-yellow, rusty pickup truck with missing tires and windows surprisingly intact parked and abandoned on the side of the barn.
I ignore the feeling in the pit of my stomach that warns me that I shouldn’t be out here touching things that don’t belong to me, but I ignore my gut and keep walking to get a better look, letting my curiosity get the best of me. How long has the truck been sitting out here? Years...maybe decades? No, it doesn’t look that old.
“It used to belong to my grandfather.”
Bryce’s voice slices through the quiet of the field, halting me in my tracks. Twigs snap beneath his feet as he moves closer in my direction. I can’t see him, but I can feel and hear his presence closing in on me.
“It was his favorite truck.”
“I see,” I respond and resume my walk toward the truck, stopping at the tailgate. I place my hand against the chipped body paint and trail my hands along the side of the truck, stopping near the passenger door. I peer through the window and see that the interior is in decent shape with the cushions slightly tattered and the fabric fading, probably due to the sun beaming through the windshield. I inhale a sharp breath when I feel Bryce’s body behind me as he reaches around me and places his hand on the door handle.
“When Clay, Morgan, and I were younger, my grandfather would let us take turns driving it around on this field. Then, sometimes, we would just park out here and watch the setting sun and have a contest to see who could spot the Little Dipper in the sky first.” He tugs the door open and I step back, pressing my body against his frame, to allow him room to open the door all the way. An old, musty stench wafts up my nose as soon as the inside of the truck comes into view.
I close my eyes when his fingertips brush along the skin of my neck while he moves the strands of my curly hair away from my shoulders.
“Why isn’t the truck up and running?” My voice trembles slightly.
“Clay’s older brother, Kyle, ran the engine out. He thought it would be fun to go mud-riding with his friends and ended up blowing the engine in the process.” His breath warms the side of my neck. “Grandad parked the truck here, hoping one day to fix it, but he passed away.”
“Oh,” I whisper-moan.
“What are you doing out here alone?” His voice lowers.
“I wanted to go for a walk.”
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.” He rests his hands on the top of the truck, creating a blockade around me and making my heart pump so hard and fast in my chest that I have to close my eyes and pray for it to still. “Coyotes like to roam this area of the farm. Especially at night,” he continues.
“I’m a big girl,” l turn around to face him, “and coyote attacks are uncommon.”
He smirks down at me, flaunting the dimple in his left cheek. “Believe that shit if you want to.” He steps closer and I step back, stopping when I brush against the seat.
“What are you doing?” I lick my lips when he lowers his head so that we’re practically nose-to-nose.
”What do you think I’m doing?” His nose rubs against mine.
I pull away. “Don’t even think about kissing me.”
His lips curve into a wicked smile. “What are you going to do about it if I do?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Why would you wan
t to kiss me when Hope just had her lips all over your neck?”
He snakes his free hand through my curls then tilts my head back, causing a gasp to escape my mouth. “Exactly.” His eyes roam my face. “Her lips were on me and not the other way around. If you’d kept your eyes on me a little longer, you would’ve seen me tossing her ass off my lap.” His eyes snap onto mine, and his jaw tightens in anticipation. “What about you and Meadow?”
I brace myself against the seat as he lowers his head and gently presses his lips against mine. A soft groan escapes from him, making me weak in the knees.
“What about her?” My voice trembles even more.
His thumb swipes along my top lip. “I remember catching you and her kissing in a spare bedroom of Hunter’s house during the night of his and Kennedy’s birthday party.” I swallow hard. He and Hunter are the only ones, besides Meadow and I, of course, who know about that kiss. I was so confused after the kiss happened because I liked it. Several days later, I didn’t know who to talk to about it, so I finally broke down to Hunter. “You were dressed in that sexy-ass Jessica Rabbit costume,” he continues. His eyes bear into mine while his thumb skims down my neck to my collarbone. “I’ve tugged on my dick several times while imagining you in that red, curve-hugging, sequin dress.”
I slowly shake my head in disbelief at his confession.
Are Meadow’s kisses better than mine?” He fingers the gold cross pendant dangling between my cleavage. My dad gave it to me after he baptized me. I was eight when I decided to go in front of the church congregation and confess that I knew Jesus died on the cross for my sins.
“No,” I gasp when his fingers trace down to the dip of my dress where the tops of my breasts are exposed. He thumbs my top button. “Bryce.” I swear I see fire flashing in his light sage eyes as they look me over.
“Do you know how bad I want to—“His jaw clamps shut, cutting the rest of his words off.
F*ck Perfect (MindF*ck Book 2) Page 4