Laced Steel: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Steel Crew Book 3)
Page 19
“I promised to make nice with Gabrielle so she could save face with the fuckheads at Suckshore, and he promised not to mess up Justice’s face.”
“Oh, shit,” she gasps.
I nod. “So, as much as Justice wants to kill him, he’s not first in line.”
She rolls to her back and rubs her hand over her face. “So fucked up.”
“Yeah, well, it is what it is.”
“And Reeves?” she says, trying not to laugh.
I shake my head and try not to laugh, as well, as I tell her, “He wants to eat my ass.”
She burst out laughing, and I quickly cover her mouth. “Shh …”
“So, you’re into him then?”
“I don’t know. I think I was more into wanting to—”
“Piss off Easton.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“So, you had your first big public kiss with a boy you say you don’t like just for… what?”
“Brisa told us to,” I whine.
She gives me the look, you know, the one your mom gives you when she knows you’re lying. Yeah, that one.
“Fine, I wanted to see if it affected him at all. And look what happened. Justice paid for it.”
“Justice is a big boy. It was his choice to fight.”
Shocked, we both sit up and look over the side of the bed.
Tris stands up, grabs her blanket, and looks at us. “I’m over your head-trips.” Then she walks out the door.
“Did you know she was fucking there?” Kiki gasps.
“Hell no!”
We both cover our mouths and start to laugh.
“She’s a creepy little shit lately, isn’t she?”
“Try living with her,” comes from the other side of the bed.
Kiki and I both jump, and then die laughing when Brisa pops up.
“No, really. She’s losing her shit. She’s recently started collecting crosses.”
“What?” Kiki laughs harder now.
“Dark crosses, like really dark.” She climbs on the bed and stretches out like a cat.
Tris walks back into the bedroom with her toothbrush and paste in hand, then walks by us, shaking her head and sighing.
“Tris, babe, we need more girl time with you.” Kiki laughs.
She calls to us from the bathroom, “They’re not upside down, for God’s sake. Chill.”
And we all lose it.
I open the door to Justice’s room and peek in to make sure he’s still asleep. I find him, eyes closed, lying on top of his covers.
I tiptoe in to pull his blanket over him, and not just as a comfort thing, but to ensure if Mom or Dad walk in, they don’t see the bruises.
“T, I’m awake, probably going to be staying awake if you keep coming in here, checking on me like I’m five.”
“I just—”
He sits up. “Or there’s something you wanna talk about that involves you kissing Reeves, because the guy you really like was kissing on the number chick.”
I sit down on his bed.
“Or that, while I was getting my face pounded, all I could hear, aside from get up, Justice, was how much you hate him.”
I close my eyes.
“You made a deal with him, and he broke it.”
I shrug.
“To be honest, if I couldn’t tell that in your voice, I’d have probably still been lying there. So, for that, I’m grateful.”
“So then you get why you can’t go after him, that it’s literally my fight?”
He chuckles. “He’s safe until I get him back in a ring.”
“No! Hell no! Fighting doesn’t work for you. You lost your shit. You didn’t want it to end. Promise me right now that you—”
“Not gonna do that, because I am. Still want to know what the deal was.”
“I accept her apology so she can save face with her peers, and he doesn’t touch your face.”
Justice laughs as he lies down. “He fucked that up now, didn’t he?”
“Clearly,” I say, lying across the foot of the bed.
“Good. That’s a game changer.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Why’s he protecting her, T?”
“Honestly, she’s not got it easy.”
“The fuck she doesn’t. But if that’s the angle he played, it makes it a fuck of a lot easier to figure out how to get back at him.”
“Can you just let it go, please?”
“He manipulated my sister. That’s fucking low, T. That’s bottom of the barrel shit right there.”
“He’s gone in a couple months.”
“Wars aren’t won overnight.” He smiles, and it’s not a comforting smile.
“Justice …”
“No, T. I’d take twenty blows to the face over that shit.”
“Just don’t break any laws.”
He sits up and smirks. “Not even a misdemeanor, T.”
“Why do you look happy now?”
“ ’Cause I am.”
“What are you planning?”
He turns and fluffs his pillow. “A good night’s sleep, maybe a run before breakfast, school, baseball, home, dinner, chess with Mom, and repeat.”
“And nothing in between?”
“We’re good, T. You keep me in the loop from now on, and I’ll do the same.”
“And no fights at school.”
“Mom and Dad pay way too much for us to have that so-called privilege, and I like ball, so we’re good there, too.”
I stand up and walk to the door.
“You’re gonna get an early morning wakeup call, T. Gotta fix my face before they see.”
I nod. “Yeah, I know.”
Chapter Twenty
Idiom
Give It A Shot.
Truth
How about some kevlar.
Gabrielle is the first person I see when I walk down the hall toward my locker, because she is standing at my freaking locker. She’s alone, sort of; her minions are just down the hall, waiting for her.
Right away, I give her a warning, “I’m not a morning person.”
“Neither am I without at least three cups, which is probably why I’ve been in a shit mood for the past year or more,” she jokes as I cup my combination in an attempt to shield it in case she decides to fuck with it.
I give a passive-aggressive response. “Guess we’re all having that kind of year.”
I pull my locker door open and shove my backpack inside. Then, I begin digging through it to find my weekend assignments. Assignments I half-assed this morning between getting ready, covering up Justice’s bruises, and on the ride here as Justice drove us to school.
“You lose your nanny, too?” she jokes.
I don’t reply.
“Mine made the best coffee. Now I’m forced to drink this American shit.”
I close my locker, spin the combination, give the lock a tug, and then turn to look at her.
Her smile begins to fade, which is a good thing. It was kind of nauseating this early on a Monday morning. A Monday morning following this weekend’s near catastrophic events.
“I know he and you had a deal. I know he broke it. I also know that’s unlike him. But that’s further proof I was correct when I told you that he’s into you. I can’t say anymore—I have to stay out of it—but I want you to know, not only do I genuinely like you, but—”
“I’m true to my word. Our little tiff is over. Just don’t fuck with me or my crew.” I step forward, and she steps with me, blocking me.
“I do fake boyfriends—I’ve done a lot of them actually—but I’ve never done fake friends.”
“Then don’t be one.” I walk past her.
She walks beside me and whispers, “I’m not. Aside from Tobias, I’ve never had someone push back when I’ve lashed out to keep them away.”
“I’m really not in the mood right now,” I say as we turn the corner and see Harrison, Kai, and Miles all standing together in a semi-circle a
round Tobias, who is leaning against a locker, expression unreadable … of course.
“Why can’t there be another way around those assholes?” Gabrielle mumbles, and I almost laugh to myself, because it was my thought exactly.
The good thing is that they don’t seem to see us. Not one looks back from the obviously heated discussion, so when we walk by and Tobias averts his gaze, I flip him off, knowing damn well he sees me.
“Truth, he’s not—”
“I have no idea who you’re even talking about. To me, he’s nobody.”
Throughout the day, I avoid them all, but I know they’re all talking about me. A picture was taken of the back of Gabrielle and me as we walked down the hall this morning with the caption, “Best Asses At Seashore,” hashtag this or that. I’m not going to lie; the hate for my ass is dwindling day by day.
Apparently, someone broke the rules at the fight. Videos of his fall and rise were posted, not one of them showed Tobias tapping out, though. Pretty fucking telling on who runs the show now.
During AP Chemistry, Alexa was talking about the fight and how awesome it was. How fucked up is it that I didn’t even know that half my classmates were apparently there? I’ll answer that.
Pretty fucked up.
The latest Sound notification comes in while I’m at my locker, getting my shit together to catch a ride with Patrick. I open it up and shake my head.
“It’s Sound official.” I hear from behind me and slam my locker.
“Not in the mood.” I turn and walk toward the doors.
“There are a million ways I could get you there,” Harrison calls from behind me, and I just keep walking.
“Only one that she wouldn’t have to fake it, on a good day.” I hear Gabrielle heckle him and almost laugh.
She catches up to me, and I smirk at her.
“He talks too much. It’s a complete turnoff.”
Once out the door, she says, “See you tomorrow.”
I wave.
The entire week is much the same, and I’m pretty damn sure I found the magic position of popularity. Be an aloof, surface bitch, never let them see inside, and keep your circle small enough that everyone wants to join but very few can.
By Friday, I’ve turned Harrison’s request for a “proper date” down enough times that I’m hopeful he doesn’t ask again. Part of me wants to just dive in, knowing full well he’s not what I want, not at all, but the boyfriend experience is one we all want the thrill of … riding. My preference would have been Tobias, but no matter how strong that feeling still is, he’s the worst kind of boy there is.
I have kept up my side of the broken promise, because that’s who I am and fuck him. I’ve heard rumors, aka Alexa told me what she’s heard. Apparently, Justice has been secretly tormenting Tobias, but neither have mentioned it, so I take it for what it is—gossip. And if it’s true, well, it’s somehow kept them from calling a rematch, and I would rather be ignorant to whatever else is going on. So, maybe I’ll play along with Harrison for the thrill of it, but right now, after the week I’ve had—no, make that two weeks—I just want to take a nap.
I open the door to Patrick’s Jeep and slide in.
“Don’t make any plans for tonight.”
“I have a date.”
“T, seriously? You don’t even like him.”
“It’s with my bed.”
He laughs as he throws the Jeep in drive. “Good. Take a power nap. Then you, JT, and I are gonna see how the other side of the area lives.”
“The bay side?” I yawn and pull my feet up, hugging my knees and resting my head.
“The other side.” He winks.
“What about Brisa and Tris? Max and Amias?”
“Just us soon-to-be seniors.”
“I could use a weekend off from the social circus.”
“You can.” He hits the gas and peels out of the parking lot. “Starting tomorrow.”
“So pissed he made other plans,” Patrick grumbles as he pulls onto a tree-lined dirt road.
“He’s probably sleeping, like I should be.”
“Pretty cool your parents are finally chill about shit, though,” he says as we bounce over the ruts in the road.
“Took until junior year. I’m seriously going to remember this when I become a mom. Wade my kids into the water, one tiny toe at a time, instead of tossing them in and hoping they can swim.”
Laughing, he nails the gas. “What’s the fun in that?”
I grab the dashboard. “You asshole.”
When we pull up toward a clearing, beyond the borders of the trees surrounding us, a beautiful lake comes into view. The sun is nearly set beyond them, but its beauty is still not lost in the near darkness. That thought—beauty in the darkness—will never be the same.
Patrick slows to a stop then leans toward the dash. “Lake Sarco, but they call it Crystal Lake. I can see why now.”
“You promised, if I hated it, we could leave.”
He looks over at me and nods. “But seriously, look at this place.” He sits back, hits the gas lightly and inches us into the clearing. With the view unobstructed, I see a huge bonfire and about a dozen Jeeps, trucks and a van.
“Who’s here?”
“The blenders.” He hits the gas, smiling.
“The what?”
“The ones that blend in. The ones who have money and don’t flaunt it like the cheesedicks at Seashore. The ones who are here on scholarship. The ones who are chill, T.”
“So, stoners.”
“Some of them, yeah. Chillest crew outside of you.”
Now I get the little trip. “So, your not-crush Savvy is here?”
“Don’t you dare plant a seed that’s never gonna bloom, T. She’s tits, but it ain’t happening.”
“Ain’t happening now or ever?”
“T, don’t.”
I put my hands in the air. “Okay, okay.”
After he parks by an old Volkswagen van, he hops out.
“Tricks!” a bunch of them cheer.
“Side crew!” he yells back. “Brought my girl Truth with me.”
“Hey, Truth.” They all wave.
I whisper, “This is like Woodstock without an acid trip.”
“Just ask me before you take a toke off anything.”
“You smoke acid?”
He shakes his head and laughs. “Let’s go.”
As soon as we get closer, I see a beautiful blonde in a black cat suit, black biker boots, and a red flannel that is way too big for her, hanging perfectly off her shoulders. I’ve seen her in school. She hangs out with a bunch of kids who will someday have the perfect plan to overtake the government and be too fucked up to do it. No judgment here at all. I’d like to change the world, too, but at present time, with my head as fucked up as it has been, I’m thinking they have a better shot than I do.
“Hey, Tricks. Hi, Truth.” She smiles.
“You must be Savvy.” I put my hand out to shake hers.
“What the fuck, you assholes?” comes out of nowhere, and I turn to see a girl, shorter than me, wearing Boho style, super colorful flowy pants, a tank top, and a dark gray army style jacket come running out of the woods, full force at a group of guys who are all laughing. Her hair is long, thick, and wild, just like I assume her personality is, as she shouts profanities at them then dives onto them, toppling some of them over.
“Nice directions, dickheads! I have bug bites on my ass and probably just wiped with poison ivy! Payback’s a bitch.”
When she gets up, she kicks sand at them. “Sleep light tonight. One eye open and shit,” she sighs and looks around. “What is wrong with all of—” She stops when she sees Patrick.
“Hey, Savannah.” He smirks.
She crosses her arms and taps her bare feet. “How many times do I have to tell you my name’s Savvy?”
Everyone starts laughing.
“Why are you here?” she asks then looks at me. “And, you, please tell me you didn’t blast this on t
hat miserable fucking app. This is an asshole-free zone. Which, again, I ask the question”—she looks directly at Patrick—“why are you here?”
He sighs. “Come on, Savannah.”
“Oh my God, was this one dropped on his head repeatedly on purpose? You can tell me the truth. I won’t turn his parents in. As a matter of fact, I don’t blame them.”
Patrick lunges at her, picks her up over his head, and then pretends to body slam her but sets her down gently on the ground.
“Has he always been such a giant child?” she says, jumping up.
“He’s always been full of love, light, and a little fuck you,” I laugh, watching him interact with her.
“Who’s got the hooch?” Patrick laughs.
“Am I driving?” I whisper.
“Tent’s in the back, so—”
“What?” I snap quietly.
“If you’re not having a good time, we jet. If you are, we stay.”
“My parents—”
He holds his arms up in the air. “Already got the okay.”
“ ’Cause he has a dick,” comes from Savvy, who is flouncing around, because she can’t seem to keep still. “And, and he’s a white man. You’re all—”
“Shut it down, Pocahontas,” he interrupts her.
She dives at him, and he purposely falls. Then they roll around, laughing.
“See? You’re all the same.” She grabs his neck and starts mock-strangling him. “Indian with a dot, not a feather.”
He rolls over and pins her. “Savannah, to me, you’re Pocahontas, because you’re a—”
“Savage,” they all say then bust up laughing.
He pops up and looks around. “Let’s hear some tunes?”
An hour later, I am honestly having a great time. Probably the most fun I’ve had at a non-family function ever.
The conversation is as intense as I imagined it would be, and Savvy is smart as fuck. They all hang onto her every word, most of which are curses and hate-filled rants, but every one of them warranted. She’s intense, and listening to her for just an hour, I am convinced she’ll do at least one of three things: start a cult, change the world, or make Patrick fall even harder for her than he obviously already is.