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“Mmhmm. I got my ass handed to me. A whole shape-up-or-ship-out speech.”
He kicked my backpack on the floor. “So, this is you shaping up? Studying when you should be getting ready to go out?”
“Not in the mood to go out.”
I’d never had a thing for sitting at parties with a bunch of bros trying to pull the first semi-hot, semi-willing chick. Abby had always dragged me out when I wasn’t away wrestling, and I’d gone because I wanted to be with her, but those days were over. Now, I was sitting in the study den—the small room reserved for homework and, as the name implied, studying—waiting for Helen to get off work at a job I hated her doing. I hated it mostly because it was at a strip club, but also because it took her from me and cut into the time I had to be inside her, and with her, and looking at her beautiful fucking face.
“You know, I thought when you quit wrestling, you’d be more fun. This was supposed to be our year. No girl. No responsibilities. Just pure, unadulterated bacchanalia. Instead, you’re Mr. Schoolwork all of a sudden. And you disappear every fucking night. I’m beginning to think you’re keeping secrets, Theo.”
I felt his stare, but I kept my eyes on the ceiling. I didn’t have answers for the fantasies he’d come up with on his own. He assumed a lot because he’d been the one with me at the ER and then had let me stay at his family’s unused beach house for most of the summer to get my head on straight. While I was grateful for both, I didn’t feel suddenly close to him, nor beholden to hold his dick every Saturday night. Neither was ever going to happen.
“I’m Mr. Schoolwork because Andrew threatened to pull my enrollment if I didn’tapplymyself.”
“I notice you didn’t answer where you’re disappearing to.”
“Nope.” I sucked in a breath, ready for this interaction to be done.
“Fine. Be a little bitch.” He slapped my arm. “Hey, do you have that dealer’s number? The one you bought from last year?”
My head jerked up in a rush. “No.”
“No? You’re telling me you lost his number?”
“No, I’m telling you I’m not giving you his number.”
Deacon pressed his palms together in prayer. “Come on, Theo. My regular dealer won’t talk to me since I kinda screwed her over. I need your guy.”
Deacon only knew Amir existed because I’d been far too honest at the ER and he’d overheard it all. He hadn’t mentioned it until now, but clearly, he’d socked away the info for a rainy day.
“He’s not my guy, and I’m not giving you his number. He’d wind up slitting your throat. I’ve got too much going on to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.”
Deacon grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Sweet that you care, man. Give me the number.”
“No. Full stop. Never happening.” I grabbed my shit, heading for the exit. Deacon bit at my heels.
“That’s shit, man. I’d do anything for you.”
I kept walking toward the stairs. “You don’t need to do anything for me. I’m square. I promise you, it’s a favor I don’t give you his number.”
From my left, Deacon grumbled, “It’s just weed.”
“I don’t care if you smoke out of your ass. What I don’t want is you being anywhere near that guy. If you knew better, you wouldn’t want it either.” I stopped at the base of the stairs and twisted my head to look over my shoulder. “Have fun tonight. And remember, ‘no’ is a full sentence.”
I took the steps two at a time, Deacon mumbling, “Fuck off” behind me. When I got to my room, I shut myself in, locking it down tight, then I took out my phone.
Me:Are you at work, baby?
Helen:Yeah. I’m doing my makeup, then I’m out on the floor.
Me:Send me a picture.
Helen:No please?
Me:Please, Tiger. I just had to lock myself in my room to get away from Deacon. I need to see your face.
Within a minute, a picture came through. Taken from a high angle, I saw red lips, stunning face, tits pushed up high, smooth belly, legs crossed, and spiked platform heels. Helen’s waitressing uniform was uncalled-for sexy, and it made me irrationally angry. Or maybe itwasrational not to want to share my girl’s body with every perv who wandered into her job.
Me:You’re so beautiful.
