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“Jesus Christ, McGraw, what the fuck did you get yourself into?”
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t even fucking move.
“What? You’re just going to sit there and stare at me all damn night?”
“I ain’t got nothin’ to say.”
“Cut the shit,” he gritted out.
“What do you want from me, Jacob? A fuckin’ bedtime story?”
He leaned into the table with his arms resting in front of him.
“Listen to me, you stubborn son of a bitch. You need to start talking and you need to start talking real fucking quick. The charges you’re up against are going to take a goddamn miracle from Jesus himself appearing in the courtroom to get you off. Now, you need to tell me what the hell happened so I can do my job and save your sorry ass from becoming someone’s bitch in a jail cell for the next decade. Do you understand me?”
I cocked my head to the side and spoke with conviction, “Where? Where would you like me to start?”
He didn’t falter not that I expected him to.
“The beginning, Dylan, start from the fucking beginning.”
1
Aubrey
“You’re such a fucking asshole!”
There I was, yelling at a dude I knew by reputation only, out in the school parking lot by his Jeep. Both my fists remained at my sides while I tried like hell to keep my cool, to maintain my composure and act like the lady I was raised to be, but you wouldn’t know it by my actions in that moment. Uncontrollable anger toward him took over my entire body, and I fought the urge to punch him right in his damn mouth.
Dylan McGraw.
Just his name made me want to throw down.
I hated guys like him.
I didn’t know much about him, but the fact was I didn’t need to. Boys like him were all the same, every last one of them. Acting as though they were hot shit and owned every place they walked into. With their my-shit-don’t-stink kind of attitude. They knew how to flash their boyish grins and show off their dimples just the right way to grant them access to all the lust-infested girls’ panties. Their mere touch, the calculated romance or with their slick lines had those stupid, naive girls spreading their legs faster than I could say, “Open sesame.”
It was so cliché.
All of it.
I had heard enough to know that I needed to steer clear of Dylan McGraw and his asshole tendencies. I was only a few months into my freshman year at a new high school, but his reputation preceded him.
Dee was the only girl to approach me on the first day of school, and we quickly became friends. She was sweet and funny in an innocent kind of way. When she told me she was hanging out with Dylan McGraw, I kept my mouth shut. If I was aware of his reputation, I was sure she was aware of it, too. Especially with both of them being natives to Oak Island. You’d have to live under a rock to not know that no good came from that boy.
The rumors were everywhere.
Dylan turned from his Jeep with an overconfident arched eyebrow, narrowing his stare on me. He stood there with nothing more than a mischievous smirk. It was the first time I had ever been around a guy who screamed sex. It radiated off of him, he had this cocky demeanor without even trying. I slowly licked my lips, my mouth suddenly drying up. I felt like I was under a spell. His gaze immediately followed the movement of my tongue, and I subconsciously took a step back, folding my arms over my chest to stand my ground. I shook my head, ridding myself of the uneasiness I was immersed in because of his slightly intimidating composure that unexpectedly seemed to loom over mine.
“You’re an asshole,” I repeated.
He folded his arms over his chest and his face didn’t falter. I tried like hell to ignore how his stance only emphasized his tall, muscular build as he leaned back against his black Wrangler with one leg propped over the other.
Cocky and confident as ever.
The parking lot was empty. Everyone had gone home for the day. Everyone except me. I had to listen to Dee cry for an entire hour in her car about Dylan and how he had used her. How they had sex a few times, and now he didn’t want anything to do with her, tossing her away like I had heard he had done to so many other girls. Treating them as if they were disposable.
Fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em was his style.
