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I leaned against the window and hugged my arms to my chest. The lights from businesses and signs blurred together as we passed into streams of colored lights.
“You’re right. You’re much worse than them,” I whispered, knowing full well that King couldn’t hear me over the music. “Because with them, it wouldn’t hurt this much.”
Chapter Nineteen
Doe
King hadn’t come to bed in days. I still helped him at night in his studio but our conversation never escalated to anything more than him barking orders at me.
On Saturday morning I’d found a box on the kitchen counter with a note addressed to me. The card read:
FOR OUR DATE. BE ON THE PORCH AT EIGHT-PREPPY
Our date? Why would we go out on a date? Inside the box was a short black strapless dress and a pair of matching heels.
Preppy had made sure I had a bunch of jeans and tank tops to wear on a daily basis. He even stopped at a store and let me pick out some underwear and bath stuff one day, but I didn’t have anything like this.
The clock on the stove read only ten am. I was disappointed I’d have to wait so long to put it on.
At eight o’clock sharp, I stood by the steps and fidgeted with the hem of my new dress. I’d spent hours showering, shaving, and blow-drying my hair. I was beyond ready, thrilled to be doing something new and grateful for the distraction.
I had no clue what Preppy had up his tattooed sleeves.
“You ready, Doe?” he asked, bounding out from the door under the stairs.
He draped an arm over my shoulder and ushered me toward King’s truck, which was already parked in front. “I wish I could take you in my car. But you know, it fucking blew up and shit,” he said bitterly.
His usual short-sleeved dress shirt had been swapped out for a dark blue long-sleeved button down that he wore untucked over a pair of dark boot cut jeans. His usual bow tie carefully in place. He smelled like he’d just gotten out of the shower. Like soap and shaving cream.
“Did you shave?” I asked. His beard looked just as long as it had that morning.
“Huh?” he asked, looking down at me.
“You smell like shaving cream, but you still have your beard.”
“It’s a date, baby girl. I manscaped in case I get lucky.”
I laughed. “You’re not getting lucky.”
“I know. King would kill me, and I rather like my life. So, I think we’ll leave that off the table. For now.” He winked. “Besides, you may not let me get my cock wet, but maybe someone else will take pity on me when the night’s over and let me get it in.”
I laughed at Preppy, his smile taking the edge of his crude words.
“You look nice,” I said. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that Preppy actually blushed.
“Thanks. But tonight, I’m not Preppy.”
“You’re not?” I asked. “Then, who are you exactly?”
“Nope, this is a date. So tonight, you can call me Samuel. I would say that you look nice, too, but you look way more than nice. I would say…”
Preppy took a step back and slid his hand down my arm, to lock his fingers around my wrist. He, then, lifted my arm and twirled me around slowly to appraise me. My face flushed with embarrassment when I noticed he was staring at my ass.
“Hot. You look HOT, baby girl. Pancakes do a body good. Real fucking good.”
“Thanks.” I felt my cheeks redden. “I wish you could call me by my real name, too, but I don’t know—”
The roar of a motorcycle drowned out my words. We both turned toward the noise. King pulled up the gravel drive and parked a shiny black bike next to one of the house pilings. It was the first time I’d seen him drive anything other than his beat-up old truck. He swung off his bike and ripped his helmet off his head, tossing it to the ground as he stomped toward us with furious steps. His brows furrowed, and his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes firmly locked on me as he approached, looking me up and down and then to where Preppy was still holding my hand.
My heart beat in a quick, uneven rhythm as he approached. My palms began to sweat. I plastered a fake smile on my face.
“Where the fuck did you get THAT thing?” King roared, pointing to my dress. His gaze darted back and forth from me to Preppy.
Preppy smiled and released my hand. Once again draping his arm over my shoulders, he tugged me into his side.
King’s eyes widened at the gesture, and I thought for sure he was going to punch one or both of us. Preppy, however, seemed unaffected by King’s mood.
“We’re gonna paint the town red, Boss-Man,” Preppy answered coolly. “How do we look?”
Something in the way he asked made me think he was goading King.
“He bought me the dress,” I added, slightly embarrassed that King obviously didn’t like it. It was strapless and form-fitting. Showing off the curves I’d developed in the days I’d been stuffing my face.
“Fuck no, you’re not. I’ve changed my mind,” King said, staring Preppy dead in the eyes. “You’re gonna get your fucking ass back in the house before I put a fucking bullet in your skull. That’s what you’re going to fucking do.”
“Why not?” I heard myself ask before I had time to register the fact that I had also shook off Preppy and stepped to King. He came forward, too. Our feet touched at the toes. Since I was much shorter than him, I had to look up to meet his disapproving gaze.
“Cause I fucking said so, pup,” King growled, his nostrils flaring.
His usual green eyes were now shining black pools of anger. There was a hardness to his features that suggested this was a fight I’d never be able to win.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.
“I’m here because I don’t have any other options! I get that you’re fucking mad at me, or that you fucking hate me. I do. But I just wanted to pretend for one fucking night that I’m a normal girl on a normal date in a normal place!”
Just as I turned to head back into the house, King grabbed my elbow and spun me around, he tipped my chin up.
“Stay. Here,” he ordered, his face still hard and angry. “You.” King pointed to Preppy. “A fucking word. Now.”
He gestured with his chin to the house, releasing me as he stormed up the steps and slammed the front door behind him. Preppy looked amused although I’m not sure how he could’ve been with King steaming in such close proximity.
“Sorry, babe,” Preppy said with a knowing smile. “Maybe, another time?” He bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time. I thought about following them in, but I didn’t want to provoke King further.
I spent the next ten minutes stewing on the porch, wondering if they’d killed each other because I hadn’t heard anything inside. The sun had long since set over the trees, so I stayed under the safety of the light of the porch. I soon got tired of standing. My ass had barely touched the bottom step when the front door swung open, and King came bounding out. I jumped up and held onto the railing to keep from falling onto the walkway.
“Let’s go,” King said, holding out a hand to me. Anger still lingered on his face, along with a bit of confusion.
“Go? Go where?” I asked.
“On a date thing.” His brows furrowed again like my question confused him.
“With you?”
King nodded. Since his hand was still extended out to me and I’d made no move to take it, he reached over and grabbed my hand. That’s when I looked at him, I mean really looked at him.
He was freshly showered and smelled like he’d just put on cologne. He wore his usual dark jeans and a tight black t-shirt. His stubble was still there but neatly trimmed. It’s amazing what he’d done in the ten minutes he’d left me outside.
“With me,” he confirmed, slowly raking his eyes over my body. hid gaze burned into me.
“What happened to Preppy?” King stiffened.
“He’s no longer available,” King spat, obviously put off by the question.
“Oh,” I said, looking down at my feet.
“Fuck. Just forget it. It was a fucking stupid idea anyway.”
“What? No, I just… this was all Preppy’s idea anyway.”
“Shut up,” he said, silencing my rant. King tugged on my hand and led me over to his bike. He handed me a helmet and straddled the seat. He turned the key and it came roaring to life. He turned and gestured to the space behind him.
I shouted over the engine, “I’m wearing a dress!”
King grabbed my hand and tugged me toward him. “I think we know by now that you know how to straddle, so get the fuck on.” I pressed my thighs together, willing the memory of the night in his truck away.
“Why can’t we just take the truck, or we can walk.” I suggested.
King stared me down. “Pup?”
“Yeah?”
“Get on the fucking bike.”
“You’re really are a fucking asshole, you know that?.” I punctuated my words by digging my pointer finger into his chest. King smiled obnoxiously. I didn’t want a smile I wanted a fight. I was beginning to think it was long overdue.
“Took you long enough.” He said, grabbing hold of my finger.
“Long enough for what?”
