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“We could always go to my dad’s summer house, I think he’s in Italy right now so we should be safe there,” he says, but he sounds uneasy. I don’t think he wants to have anything to do with his old man, and I can’t blame him for that one.
“I’m not putting you through that, to be fair there is somewhere I need to go. I’ve been putting it off, but my dad is in the states and my mother is in rehab so it should be safe for a few days. I may be able to check up on a few things as well,” I’m pulling on my bottom lip as I get lost in my mind and I swear he’s watching the action transfixed, although he snaps out of it when he notices I’m looking at him.
“Where,” it comes out strangled, so he clears his throat before trying again, “where to?” I swear his voice sounds deeper now, but it’s a valid question and it deserves an answer.
“My house, I haven’t been there since the week I was released from Juvie. Fancy a trip back to where my life was changed for a second time?”
He swallows deeply as his eyes darken and I can see the war waging within him, the place where his hate for me was born and maybe he still holds it inside himself. A part of me wants to ask him how he feels about me now, but the timing is far from perfect.
“Nothing like a trip down memory lane,” he says thickly, and I don’t miss how his eyes look anywhere but at me.
EIGHT
WHAT I DID to R
ebecca is no longer a secret, but it doesn’t make it any easier to do this. Especially with her brother sitting in the seat beside me, his jaw locked tight and not uttering even a single word to me since we got back to town.
It’s not just being here that has me on edge but the risk of running into the guys who were with me that fateful night. I didn’t dob them in when it happened, I was driving so I was responsible, but I don’t know what I'll do if I come face to face with those arseholes.
I’m deliberately avoiding the road the incident occurred on, but I can see the tick in his jaw and how his eyes narrowed to slits as we drive close to it. Damn, maybe this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come back here, it’s not like I’m even welcome here anymore.
Letting out a deep sigh as I pull up to my parents house, I try to prepare myself. It’s so dark and uninviting. Maybe it would be better to just turn around and find somewhere else, but Harrison is already vacating the car and I guess I better follow.
“Home sweet home hey,” he says gruffly, and I don't miss the slight bite to his tone. Maybe I don’t need to ask him how he feels about me, the animosity and hateful glares are painting a pretty clear picture.
I open the door and push it open, finding resistance from all the letters that have piled up. My dad only left a few weeks ago, how has it gotten this bad? I’m shaking my head as I pick them up and lay them on the sideboard. Not even thinking as I walk down the hallway and do not stop until I come to his office. It’s still locked and I’m not sure why this surprises me, he’s always been secretive when it comes to his work, I guess it's to be expected with him being a solicitor.
“What’s in there?” Harrison asks, his face stoic and his tone void of emotions.
“Nothing to think about for today, pick a room and I’ll be back once I park the car somewhere else. Having it outside of this place is a clear beacon to anyone trying to track us,” I say and even though he tries to argue with me he doesn’t put up much of a fight.
I think he wants or maybe needs some time alone, and I won’t turn down the opportunity to have some for myself either. I close the door and stand there looking at the handle for a moment before I get back in the car and drive away.
I NEVER INTENDED to do this, I really did just plan to park the car somewhere a little less conspicuous, but it was calling to me. My very own siren song; I could not resist.
I pull to the side of the road as the images swirl around in my head, this is a very bad idea, but I’m stuck. I can’t make my hand turn the key to start the engine, I guess I haven’t quite finished with punishing myself.
“Tom Beckly, keep your eyes on the road. Just because I agreed to come with you idiots, does not mean I’m going to open my legs for you,” I say, trying to roll my eyes makes my head spin and it’s so fucking funny.
“You are so high,” Michael says, leaning between the two front seats and passing the joint to me.
I shouldn’t have anymore, my mind feels hazy and my body is buzzing but it’s good. I can’t think or remember any of the bad shit, so why the hell not? I take it from him and put it between my lips, drawing in a large drag. It’s as I remove it from my mouth that his closes on mine and swallows the smoke in one go.
I rear back or at least I try to. I can’t be sure if I only moved slightly or whipped myself away when everything is moving in slow motion, I can’t believe he did that. Haven’t I made myself clear enough; I’m not interested in them like that. If anything, I hate their guts, they’re a means to an end, nothing more or less. They got me out of the house and away from my mum and I gave them the means to get wasted, fair deal in my opinion.
“I’m sick of driving, take the wheel hot stuff,” Tom says, as his eyes move slowly down my body and I will agree to pretty much anything if it will stop him from looking at me like I’m some piece of meat.
I really shouldn’t drive, but who is going to be out at this time of night? Oooh my face feels funny, I wonder where I can get something to eat. I am starving! Focus Henleigh, you need to drive and pay attention.
I slip free from my seat belt and stand up as Tom slides beneath me and squeezes my arse, I slap him hard across the face leaving a nice red hand print before slipping behind the steering wheel and taking the joint back for myself.
“Try that again motherfucker and see what happens,” I bite out, my anger is rearing its ugly head and the high isn’t dampening it.
I wonder what will help. I have a great idea. That’s what's running through my mind as I slam my foot down on the accelerator and switch up the gears until I’m pushing the car to its limits.
“Wow, look at you go, I love a hot head,” Tom says leaning closer, right as I take a corner fast and hard which sends him crashing into his door. Serves the twat right for not wearing his seatbelt.
“Put some tunes on,” Gary says, waking up from his stupor, that boy cannot handle his weed.
