Crush

by J. C. Emery

  “Shut up,” I mumble. My eyes are focused on the floor as they well with tears.

  “No,” she says sweetly and takes a step forward. “I do. You’re awesome, and I hate seeing you so upset. I wish I knew you better so I could do more to help.”

  “You should be used to grouchy Gradys by now,” I say with a pathetic laugh at the end.

  It’s been almost a month since Jeremy’s birthday party. I might be able to get over everything that happened if he would just leave me alone. But he won’t. He shows up at the house with bullshit excuses but then ignores me. He keeps taking over for Diesel, picking me up from school, and pretends like he hates it with all his being, but then Diesel tells me otherwise. I try to keep my interaction with Diesel limited as he keeps asking pesky questions about the party. I don’t dare, but I really want to tell him it’s none of his business. And really, I feel like such a stupid baby for thinking the stories I’d heard about the legendary Forsaken parties were exaggerated. Dad always kept me away from anything that wasn’t PG-13, so how was I supposed to know?

  “There’s grouchy Gradys, and then there’s depressed Gradys, and you, missy, are depressed.” She takes another step forward. She’s less than two feet away when she reaches out for me.

  “I’m not depressed. I’m just... done,” I say, barely able to find the right word for it.

  “Ruby told me,” she says even quieter. The mention of Aunt Ruby makes me feel about two inches tall. Everything in me feels hollow, like all my insides have been carved out. “You shouldn’t have seen that. Any of it.”

  “I didn’t see anything.” I wince at the memory of Chel and her nasty ass and those panties with the slit up the center.

  “You don’t have to lie to me,” she says softly.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She nods her head, then takes another step forward and sweeps me into her arms. She hugs me tight and doesn’t let go. Eventually I sink into her and rest my head on her shoulder. I don’t move to hug her back. I don’t feel like I can give anything to anyone right now, but I need this hug. I need her kind words and her soothing voice. I just need Holly.

  When she’s content that I’m not going to talk any more about it, she lets me go and kisses my forehead. The words and the hug I can handle, but it’s the motherly kiss to my forehead that sends a few sneaky tears down my cheeks. I stop myself quickly, though, and regain my composure. I’m not crying over Jeremy or even Daniel. I’m not even crying over my own mother who is gone. I’m crying because I’m terrified Dad is going to screw things up and I’m going to lose her. Because he’s Forsaken, and they’re all really good at screwing up relationships.

  “Who’s picking you up today?” she asks as we leave the bathroom.

  I shift the weight of my backpack on my shoulder. “Diesel.” At least it’s supposed to be Diesel, so here’s hoping Jeremy doesn’t show instead.

  “Good.” At her desk, she retrieves another two pieces of chocolate and hands them both to me. “Nothing fixes a broken heart like chocolate and revenge, but you’re in enough trouble, so let’s stick with the chocolate, shall we?”

  I smile at her and give her a wink. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve moved on from Jeremy.”

  Her eyes narrow as she surveys me. I’m lying, of course. I wish I were over Jeremy, but I can’t help myself. I clear my throat and nod my head, tossing a piece of chocolate in my mouth. “I have my eye on a new man.”

  “Tell me or I’ll read your diary,” she says with a stupid giggle.

  It’s not that I don’t love Holly. I do. It’s just that nothing makes me feel better than to torture someone else. I guess I really am my father’s daughter after all.

  “Ian,” I say with a musical laugh and practically skip out of the office. Her face falls as she grabs her phone and starts typing furiously. She’s telling Dad, and he’s going to crap himself. I know Ian has damage, and a small part of me feels kind of bad about using that to scare them. I scrub my face with my hands in frustration. Once the door closes behind me, I’m back to feeling like crap. But at least now I no longer want to stick my head in the oven.

  The hallway is crowded now since classes have just ended. Students scatter from one end to the other, desperately trying to escape school property in favor of some place more appealing—so basically, anywhere. I almost want to tell them to just stop showing up and eventually you’ll get out. One way or another, you’ll get out.

  I head toward the parking lot, my eyes scanning the crowd for Tracie. She should be around here somewhere. When I see her high ponytail bobbing through the crowd, I give her a wave and wiggle through the students to get to her.

  “You are such a crazy bitch,” she says with a huge smile on her face. “I so can’t believe you did that.”

  “Neither can I.” We start heading for the parking lot side by side.

  “You’ve been off for a while now, babe,” she says.

  I don’t respond. She’s been hinting at this conversation for a while now, and I guess if both my best friend and Holly are bugging me about my attitude, I should probably do something to straighten myself out. The only thing worse than being crabby is everybody pointing out how crabby you are.

  I’ve asked Dad why Jeremy keeps coming around but only get grunts and looks of disapproval. Dad doesn’t know that Jeremy came by after he dropped me off after our date, and I hope Aunt Ruby and Holly have both kept their mouths shut and not told Dad I was at the party. If he knew about either of those things, he’d have a total conniption fit.

  “When can we go back to everything being normal?” Tracie asks. She’s started to get annoyed with the fact that I’m making a point to let everybody know how grouchy I am. Jeremy dropped out of school the day after he turned eighteen, saying, in his own words, “Nic can’t twist my balls about it anymore.”

  “When everything does go back to normal,” I say. The bitterness in my tone is unmistakable—and, unfortunately, becoming common.

  “Okay,” she says slowly. “And what exactly is normal?”

  She has a point, even if I don’t want to admit it.

  “Six months ago—that was normal.”

  “Oh yeah, because your new mommy wouldn’t be here,” she says. “I know you don’t want that. So I guess you’re going to have to figure out how to deal with the new normal.”

  “You’re supposed to be a stupid bimbo,” I whine. Because she’s right. And I hate that.

  “Sorry, this bimbo has brains,” she says and pushes my head away. “Is it possible you’re being a little dramatic about the party?”

  Is it possible? Sure, it is possible. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. The fact that Tracie is asking me if I think I’m being dramatic tells me one thing—she likes Jeremy. She’s been defending him and the cocksucking queen for weeks now. This is how it has always been with us. When we were kids, if Tracie had a toy, I wanted it. If I had a new bike, she wanted a new bike. It was all fun when there were enough Ken dolls to go around, but now it’s becoming a problem. I admit to having developed a brief crush on the first baseman of the high school’s baseball team back when Tracie liked him, but it was fleeting. He’s a nice guy and all—he just doesn’t do it for me.

  No, I’m an idiot who falls for men in worn leather who have sex in public places.

  CHAPTER 14

  January

  15 months to Mancuso’s downfall

  Just as we round the corner behind the library and are about to step into the school’s back parking lot, I see his familiar Harley off to the side. It’s old and a little beat up, but Jeremy loves that bike, and I don’t blame him. I have a lot of good memories of that bike. But that’s not what I should be focusing on right now.

  Diesel is across the lot near the entrance, resting against the side of his bike waiting, telling me that there’s been some kind of mix-up in the schedule today. I feel like a kid who has to choose between Mommy and Daddy in the divorce. I guess if that’s the
analogy I’m going with, then Jeremy is Mommy because he’s a huge bitch.

  There is an annoying, distracting giggle coming from behind us. Tracie’s face hardens as she turns around. It’s maybe half a second before I turn around, but by the time I’m barely catching the sight of the leather vest, Tracie’s already trying to block my view and drag me in the opposite direction. I won’t be moved, though.

  I look back, wishing I hadn’t. Jeremy has a girl whose name I don’t know pushed up against the lockers, with one of his hands on her hip and the other pressing against a metal locker beside her head. His body is leaning into hers, keeping her in place. I can’t see either of their faces, but their actions and intent are unmistakable. Flashbacks of that night in the clubhouse slam me from all sides. I’ll bet he’s going to get laid. She’ll give it up easily for him because he’s Jeremy and he’s on his way to being Forsaken. And maybe it will break her heart, or maybe she won’t give a damn. But it doesn’t matter how she feels. I’m too consumed with my own humiliation at thinking he and I could have been something to care if she’s going to be the next one he hurts.

  From here, it looks like he’s trying to inhale her. They’re kissing pretty hot and heavy for being on school grounds—especially since he doesn’t even go here anymore. And all I can think is that he is a serious fucking asshole, and if he likes inhaling things so much, maybe he should inhale his own dick. It’s not like he has no idea that I could see him, but he doesn’t care.

  The girl runs her hands down his arms as she leans in and presses her body against his lower half. She lets out a breathy sigh and giggles again. And I want to smash her fucking skull into the metal locker behind her head. What a stupid bitch. It’s not like he’s saying anything charming or trying to woo her. All he’s doing is shoving his tongue down her throat.

  Not that he’s so bad at it.

  Still—asshole.

  Tracie tries to gently guide me away from them, but I can’t help myself. I can’t help but hate her even though she’s likely to fare no better than I have.

  “Come on,” Tracie whispers. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re so upset, and it’s not like you’re together.”

  I don’t move. I want him to know I’ve seen it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Aunt Ruby over the years, it’s this: Forsaken men are tough, but Forsaken women are tougher. Old ladies are expected to handle shit that nobody else can or would be expected to. They have to be both a raging bitch and know their place. I don’t want to be someone’s old lady, but I don’t know what else I’d be, then. I grew up with the club and all it means. I know better than to talk about club business, and I know the score if any of the brothers gets busted. Having a little taste of what it’s like to be with a Forsaken man, I don’t think I’m cut out for life with a civilian. Honestly, I don’t think they’re going to be able to handle my temper tantrums. Grady tantrums are something special. Even if I don’t want the heartache of being with a biker, I don’t know anything else.

  “Hey, asshole,” I shout. If the wrong person were to hear that—Forsaken or school official—I could get myself into a good bit of trouble. But I don’t care. I’m always in trouble these days for one thing or another anyway.

  Jeremy pulls away, and his eyes shoot to me immediately. He zeroes in on my presence but doesn’t even have the decency to look upset about my having caught him. Then again, this is the jerk who got a blow job in front of about thirty people. We’re not dating, and we’re certainly not a couple. I thought he gave a shit about me, but it’s becoming painfully obvious I was wrong. It’s only my heart that can’t let go of us. Everybody else—especially he—has moved on.

  “Excuse me?” Jeremy says. It’s like he’s taking tips on how to be a jerk with the way he’s reacting. Then again, he does live with Duke. Or maybe he thinks that because he’s got that cut on his shoulders he is somehow better than the rest of us for being in such an exclusive club. Well, newsflash, jerk. As long as my dad is Sterling Grady, that cut doesn’t intimidate me. I doubt he’s earned the right to prospect on a formal basis anyway. He wasn’t hanging around the club the way prospects do before they’re officially invited to start earning their top rocker.

  “You heard me,” I shout with my arms folded over my chest. Now that he and his cocky attitude have turned toward me, I can feel myself about to snap. Now I know why Ryan likes to start fights so much. My heart is racing and my blood is pumping in my veins. I feel like I could do anything right now, including ripping his arm off and beating him with it.

  Seeing how angry I’m getting, he smirks and then licks his lips. This hallway isn’t big enough for the four of us and Jeremy’s ego as well. God, he looks so freaking cute like that. The realization that I can’t stop looking at his lips as he stares at mine has my right hand twitching with the urge to slam it into his nose.

  “Just so you know,” I say and look at the girl, “he’s going to use you, and then he’s going to toss you out like you’re garbage. He’s done it to everybody. Don’t be stupid enough to assume you’re more than his newest slut.”

  Jeremy pushes off the lockers and strides toward me. His voice is quiet as he speaks. “Why are you acting like this?”

  “Because I hate you,” I grit out. Having him this close makes me feel insecure and like the immature brat I keep telling myself I’m not. “You acted like you like me, but you don’t. You just wanted to have sex. If that’s all you wanted, you could have said so and saved me the headache.”

  Heartache. I mean heartache, but I won’t admit to that.

  “I do like you,” he whispers. “But you don’t get to throw your daddy in my face every time I do something you dislike. Grady’s not just my boss. He can do more than fire me if he thinks I’ve fucked up. He. Can. End. Me. I don’t make the cut, what do you think is going to happen to me, huh? This is my life, my entire fucking future, and you run around acting like the most important thing is getting your feelings hurt.”

  “Don’t put your crap on me. You chose to prospect.”

  The snake-like smile that slides over his features is almost disturbing. His gaze is calculating and vicious. He leans down and gets right in my face. His nose is a few inches from mine, and his breath warms my mouth and chin. My eyes fall on his lips for a brief moment before I redirect them. Looking at Jeremy’s lips reminds me of how searing hot his kisses are. And that’s not a good road to go down.

  “We’ve grown up together. Seen you at the clubhouse, around town, at school. And you didn’t look my way until I put this cut on,” he hisses. The veins at his temples bulge, and his face reddens. “I chose to prospect, but if I hadn’t, you’d never have been interested in me.”

  “That’s not true,” I insist, though he might be right. We have grown up in the same town and roughly the same circle, but it wasn’t until he started on security detail around the house that we started talking. Now, thinking back on it, I’m not sure why we hadn’t hung out before. “You haven’t earned that cut, prospect. The only reason you want it is to get laid, which is just pathetic.”

  “Fuck you. Everything I have I’ve earned, and this cut means more to me than easy pussy. It’s about family, and let me remind you that, prospect or not, I still rank above you—so watch what the fuck you say to me and how you say it.”

  “You may rank higher in the club, but you’re nothing to me,” I snap. I suck in a ragged breath and fight off the frustrated tears that want to escape. I was already a little raw from my conversation with Holly and now this, so the tears might come easier than I’d like, which could serve to be mighty embarrassing.

  “You’re full of shit,” he says, noticing how wet my eyes have become. “If you’re upset, why don’t you text Daniel about it?”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I lift my hands and push on his chest. He doesn’t even budge. He reaches up and grabs ahold of my wrists. His breath washes over my face as he gets as close as he can.

  “You texting him on our d
ate? You want him, Cheyenne?”

  “You really want to go down this road?” I eye his hands on my wrists and let my gaze travel to his strong arms and up to his thick neck. “Daniel sent me a text. I ignored it, which is the polite thing to do.”

  “That it?” he asks with narrowed eyes. It’s the same look Dad gives me when we’re wrapping up a fight. But Jeremy and I most certainly are not wrapping up anything. He’s still an asshole, and this is so not settled.

  “No,” I say and pull my wrists down slowly. He doesn’t let go. Instead, he just lets his arms drop. I bring my wrists back so he has no choice but to lean in close to my face. Now we’re closer to being the same height. I press my nose to his. My chest heaves in fury. “You disgust me. You want to get your dick sucked by a whore, that’s on you. Next time don’t do it in a room full of people, asshole.”

  He flinches at my comment and lets go of my wrists. I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off him. His face pales as he sucks in a ragged breath. He practically whispers the words as he says, “You saw that?”

  “Yeah, I did.” His shock and embarrassment only makes me that much more angry. Why does he get to feel bad about it? I don’t want him feeling bad. I want him to have never let it happen. “I didn’t stay, though. Turns out Daniel is the better man after all. Hell of a kisser, too.”

  “Nothing I hate more than a bitch who doesn’t know her fucking place,” Jeremy says in a sneer and backs up. His eyes land on Tracie, and a wicked smile crosses his face. He licks his lips and nods his head at her. “You know your place, don’t you, T? You like your place on my dick?”

  Tracie shakes her head slowly. Her eyes dart from his to mine as her face scrunches and tears pool in her eyes.

  “I don’t understand,” I say quietly. I can’t really feel anything right now. It’s all happening around me, and I know I should feel something, but I just don’t. I know Jeremy’s had plenty of casual sex. I know Tracie’s hooked up with Diesel, but she never said if she’s been with anyone else from the club.