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“Your mother was worried about you when you didn’t come straight home from your brothers’ last night. She thought you’d had an accident.” He almost sounds disappointed that I hadn’t.
“I’m sure that would just make your day,” I mutter under my breath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” It’s not worth the fight.
“Preseason starts next week. You should be getting into shape instead of gallivanting about all night.”
Who even says gallivanting anymore? I refrain from rolling my eyes–barely–and answer with a simple, “Yes, sir.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you high?”
“What? No! Jeez, I got up early to meet some guys at the field for a workout.” I’ve been sober for over six months, but Ireallydidn’t want him to know the real reason why my car was up at the Point.
He frowns. “When do you start your community service?”
In order to prove to Coach that I was serious about the team, I offered to do some volunteer work out to prove myself. I have a meeting with him soon to find out what I’m going to be giving up my summer for. I don’t care too much, because it will get me out of the house and away from the asshole standing in front of me. The only downside to having a high school principal as your father: you can’t get away from him over summer break.
“A couple of weeks. Can I go now?” I ask, cocking my head toward the house.
“Don’t embarrass the family name any more than you already have.”
My jaw clenches, but I nod anyway.
“Have you seen your sister?”
I’m not about to tell him she’s with Harley. He’d lock her away until she was thirty if he found out his daughter was dating a Breed. “I think she said something about going to Sophie’s.”
Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Dad climbs into his car and I head towards the house. I quickly tap out a message to Ellie, hoping she’s made it back to Harley’s. The last thing I want is for Dad to bust them together.
THREE
IVY
I DON’T KNOW if my stomach is churning from the tequila, the lack of sleep and early morning surf, or the fact that Conrad and some of his teammates have just walked into What’s the Scoop while I’m struggling through my shift.
Fuck.
Conrad freezes, his blue eyes piercing through me. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt, denim shorts, and has a white BHU ball cap pulled over those dirty blond curls. I hate that he looks so good.Jesus, Ivy, get a fucking grip.
I feel like a cluster fuck in comparison. My own blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun and there’s ice cream smeared across the black apron I’m wearing over my purple sundress. Not that it matters, because I don’t give a fuck what Conrad thinks of me. He was just scratching an itch. Right place, right time. He should be feeling satisfied.
“What can I get you?” I ask, unwilling to even force a smile as I greet them.
“Three chocolate shakes and one strawberry, thanks gorgeous,” one of Conrad’s teammates says, throwing me a cocky wink. Obviously, he thinks he’s hilarious because he smirks and elbowsConrad in the stomach.
Did Conrad tell him what we did?
I blink, ignoring Conrad’s intense gaze whilst trying to remember the douchebag’s name. It was Robert or Rupert or something like that. Whatever it is, he can take his smug smile and shove it up his ass.
“Twenty-six dollars,” I snap, shooting him a glare. “And my name isn’t ‘gorgeous.’”
“I’ve got it,” Conrad says, reaching into his pocket, only to come up empty. “Shit, I must have left my wallet in the car.”
“No stress, El Capitano. It’s on me.” Robert or Rupert slaps some notes into my hand with another sickening wink. “Keep the change.”
I find myself fighting the urge to either vomit or punch him in the face. Tamping down both, I turn away and start making the milkshakes. The guys fall into conversation behind me, but I can feel Conrad’s eyes burning into my back as I pump chocolate sauce into the cups.
