AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Grant bent, putting his shoulder at my stomach at the same time that he grabbed my legs and stood, slinging me over his shoulder in one swift motion to the tune of Wyatt’s laughter.
“Throw her in the pond,” Wyatt said. “I think she needs to cool off.”
“Don’t you do it,” I yelled, slapping Grant’s back and kicking my feet. His ass even looked good upside down. Fucker.
“Come on, Jo,” Grant said. “I don’t know why you’re scared. I’m the one who almost died.”
“It’s not funny!” I kicked my feet some more so he knew I was serious.
“I’m not putting you down until you quit being mad.”
“Guess I live here now.”
“I could do this all day, you know.” He started to spin in circles, and I screamed.
“And you think I can’t?” I beat on his back with my fists, but to my dismay, I’d started to laugh and I couldn’t stop.
There was only one way down, and I took it—I reached into his pants, grabbed the hem of his underwear, and pulled as hard as I could.
Immediately, the world quit spinning, and he roared so deep, it reverberated through my body.
Grant set me down hard enough that I bounced. He stuck a finger in my direction, but he was laughing too. “You fight dirty.” His other hand was busy trying to dig his boxer briefs out of his ass. “Goddammit, these jeans are tight.”
Wyatt was practically rolling around in the grass, he was laughing so hard. “You’re gonna have to drop your britches if you want them outta your crawl. Next time, just skip ’em.”
But Grant was already unbuttoning his pants so he could right his situation. I caught Wyatt peeking for a glimpse of Grant’s substantial junk and snickered.
“Watch it, Blum,” Wyatt warned. “I’m not as generous as he is—I’ll throw your ass in the pond without blinking.”
“Not if you can’t catch me.”
I took off, running as fast as I could with a couple of monsters on my heels, the three of us laughing hard enough that I knew without question it was the happiest I’d been in a good long while.
But for once, instead of overthinking it, I enjoyed it.
Maybe a little too much.
12
When A Coke's a Coke
GRANT
The entire town had converged at the high school stadium that Friday night, donning the purple and gold of the Lindenbach Bears to pack into the metal bleachers under the floodlights and twilight. The clack of snare drums echoed. Cheerleaders calling Go with such an accent, it sounded like Geaux, getting tossed in the air like they weighed nothing. The murmuring crowd, the sharp whistles of refs, the clap of pads and the unified grunts from the line.
We were in the second quarter and whipping the shit out of the neighboring town, and I’d suffered this much of the game at the elbow of Mayor Mitchell. After a grueling dinner at his ranch, I hadn’t had much choice, and as I’d sat here through the first half of the game, the split in the town had become almost visible. The way people either swept by Mitchell like he was a celebrity or cut dark looks in his direction, whispering behind hands, left no question as to who was aligned with whom.
As much as I needed to stay in Mitchell’s good graces so as not to rock the boat, I needed to get away from him. Because buddying up with this asshole was never going to win me any favor with the other half of the town—the half I needed to win.
I’d kept an eye out for Wyatt or the Blums or anyone I knew well enough to get up and chat with, any excuse to say my goodbyes to Mitchell for the night, but I hadn’t spotted anyone despite my searching.
Until Jo came walking down the lowest rise, the wide walkway against the railing over the track. She leaned over the rail with a purple Bears sweatshirt in her hand, tossing the bundle to a cheerleader with a red face and a grateful expression before she hurried off toward the bathrooms.
Smiling, I stood before even considering if I should follow her, turning to say my goodbyes to Mitchell with the shake of hands and tips of hats. And then I made off in the direction of that ass I’d just seen bent over the rail.
I’d worn the jeans and boots, feeling more at home in them of late, especially at events like this. I’d never had to adapt quite so well in order to fit in, well enough that what had started off a costume had turned into a preference.
No one ever told me that looking the part could lead to faking it till I made it.
The charm was in the novelty, I told myself, like playing dress-up on Halloween. It was fun to pretend, on top of the enjoyment I felt on seeing Jo’s face when I didn’t fail like she’d intended. Nearly getting gorged by a bull aside. That scared the shit out of me—and was simultaneously the most alive I’d felt in years. God, she was pissed.
