Page 55 of His to Ruin

“Dickhead,” I hear him mutter just as he gets into his car. I yawn, trying to put the seat belt over my body except the damn thing is somehow stuck and won’t budge no matter how much I tug.

“Does that sometimes. Here let me help,” he says leaning his body into mine to free the seatbelt. He’s so close his spicy cologne clouds my senses.

Tugging twice the belt releases.

He leans in closer so that his lips gently brush mine. “See you just have to be gentle,” he whispers.

We stare into each other’s eyes and for a split second I think he’s going to kiss me. My breathing shallows and heart rate spikes. Closing my eyes I wait with anticipation, but when I hear another click of a seatbelt I’m reminded that this guy doesn’t play fair. I open my eyes to find him back in his seat with his finger on the button ready to fire up the engine with a huge grin on his stupid face that I’d love to wipe clean off right now. I know he did that on purpose. The truth is, being this close to him with no one else around is unnerving.

I can’t help but let out another yawn as the buzz of the alcohol I consumed earlier is wearing off fast making me feel drained and tired.

We argue for a few minutes before I realise there is no talking to him.

I don’t have the energy to fight with this person who I barely know, even though he seems to enjoy tilting my new world upside down. I hate it. Hate the invisible hold he has over me. Not to mention he’s using my friend to bait me to do his bidding. But the way my body reacts to him every time he’s near does something to me that I can’t explain. I feel like Dorothy from the Wizard Of Oz caught up in a tornado looking out of window at the world spinning around me, fearful of what awaits when I eventually come back to earth. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t seem to control myself.

“Do you know where Spruce Park is?” I ask.

“I know where you live Jordin.”

I shake my head turning my body to face him.

“How do you know where I live?”

My tongue clicks when he doesn’t answer. He’s clearly not going to answer me, but Caleb knowing where I live sends shivers down my spine.

It’s not long before my eyes go heavy. When I open them again we’re almost at the turn off to my house. Shit. I must have fallen asleep. Oh god I hope I didn’t snore. I’d never live it down.

“Here’s fine. You can pull over.” I quickly bite out. If he lets me out here instead of my house then mom won’t see me getting out of his car. If she’s even still awake that is. Except Caleb doesn’t stop.

“I said you can pull over here,” I repeat looking at him for a hint of acknowledgement but he continues. Before I get the chance to stop him he’s pulling up to my driveway. Asshole. The fury that’s built up inside me dissipates slightly when I look up to the bedroom windows of my house to see that all the blinds are closed and the lights are off meaning mom must have gone to bed already. Thank God for small mercies.

Muttering a quick thanks I bolt out the door hearing his window go down as I take off.

A hollow laugh bellows from his chest, “What no kiss goodnight princess?”

I turn back to him when I reach my front door. I figure he’s already been flipped the bird once by me, what harms is once more going to do.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Caleb

I’mnotbigonparties. Never was. Watching people get drunk or high and falling over each other to puke in the nearest bathroom turns my stomach. Saints’ parties are different though. No one is allowed upstairs or in certain rooms in the house, and the last person that pissed in a vase had to piss through a tube for three months.

“Anyone else want one?” I offer looking around the table. Each one shakes their heads no.

“Suit yourselves.”

I take two from the cooler setting one on the table for myself handing the other to Saint. He takes another hit of his blunt then slides it in between the lips of the chick sitting in his lap so he can take a hold of his playing cards again.

“Call,” Macca declares pushing a large pile of chips into the middle of the table.

“Someone must have a good hand,” QB mocks.

“What do you think babe? Does he have a good hand?” Saint asks the girl who I’ve never seen before tonight.

I take her in. She’s fuckable with legs for days unlike the chick sitting next to me.

“I can’t tell. He’s got a very good poker face,” the girl responds in a feathery voice. “What do you think Mandy?” she says turning to the girl that’s been inching closer to me for the past fifteen minutes.

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