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No matter what.
TWO
ZACH
I feel like shit. Not surprising, since I decided to down every beer handed to me at the dance last night. But to be honest, I don’t do that very often. I hardly ever let my guard down.
But with my little sisters at our grandma’s last night, I knew they were safe. And when Chloe bumped into my arm, her eyes full of rage and tears as she called me a prick, I just couldn’t take it anymore.
The guilt of what I did to her eats away at me.
I really am a prick, despite Adam refusing to believe it.
Speaking of my best friend, he’s lying next to me in bed, shirtless and fast asleep, without a care in the world. That’s the only time Adam looks relaxed—in sleep. That’s it.
The rest of the time, the weight of the world is on his very broad shoulders. And yes, again, I’m a total goddamn prick because the blankets have fallen to his waist, and I spend far too long letting my gaze drag over the muscles of his arms—built by backbreaking farm work and every sport imaginable in Kensley. And then, down over his firm pecs with a slight dusting of golden hair which matches the locks on his head. Then over his chiseled abs—eight. There’s a pack of eight abs on his toned stomach.
That also has a light trail of the same golden-colored hair leading from his belly button and below the sheet bunched up at his waist.
Total. Prick.
Stop ogling your best friend.
I’m still scolding myself when his phone alarm goes off and his hand darts out to silence it. His eyes slowly open as he turns to look at me, and damn it, he’s too beautiful to look away.
I can’t think this way about him.
I can’t.
But I can’t stop myself either. Not when his blue eyes meet mine, and his blond shaggy hair falls over his face. A face, mind you, that’s the most handsome, most gorgeous face I’ve ever seen, with those high cut cheekbones and full red lips.
He’s perfect.
“How long have you been awake?” His voice is grumbly and rough from sleep. It does something to me. Something that forces me to pull the blankets a little more over my crotch, hoping like hell he doesn’t notice the bulge there that’s most definitelynotonly morning wood.
“Not long,” I answer him, willing my body to calm the hell down. This is Adam Bates. He’s not someone I’m allowed to drool over. Not at all. It’s not right. He’s my best friend. My protector. My fucking everything.
And this is how I repay him.
By ogling the shit out of him and getting hard in the bed he allowed me to sleep in last night so I wouldn’t have to go home to my abusive shithead of a stepfather.
“You okay?” Of course, he’s concerned about me. That’s just how Adam is. Worrying about everyone except himself. But especially me. He’s always watched out for me, ever since we were little kids.
I highly doubt that would still be the case if he knew the perverted thoughts I have in my head about him. If he knew how often I touched myself while thinking about him. How often I’ve wanted to kiss him. Just once. Taste those full, red lips.
He’d likely never want to see me again if he knew.
“I’m fine. Must we wake up at the asscrack of dawn though?” I ask, already knowing the answer. If you stay at the Bates’, you’re waking your ass up early, and you’re going to do chores.
My body aches, and I feel like I could vomit, my head throbbing. But I don’t mind helping them out. The Bates family has been good to me. I’d stay here more often than not if it weren’t for my sisters being stuck at home. I can’t and won’t leave them alone with Elliot for too long.
He mostly leaves them alone, considering them a minor inconvenience, but that’s because he usually has me to knock around when he’s in one of his moods. I don’t want to think about what he’d do if I weren’t home when he’s had too much to drink and decides to be a pissed-off drunk instead of a happy one.
Because he can be an overly happy drunk. But after one drink too many, he’s off and in a rage about taking on his friend’s responsibilities. Not his friend’s family. No, we’re just an obligation to him.
“I can go do the chores. You should stay here and rest.” Adam stands up from the bed, and my stupid, prickish, traitorous eyes go straight to the bulge in his black joggers.Damn it, I’m going to hell.
I can’t keep doing this to him.
