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42
Willow
This time last year, if you pointed out Harley Guy and said I’d go goo-goo-gaga over him, I’d say get out of my face. I’m too busy for the male species. No guy’s slowing me down.
This time last month? I might nibble. Take the suggestion and call him a beautiful, dark distraction. But only from a distance, as I initially walked away from Camdyn after realizing how off course I was from my destination.
Today, Harley Guy’s in my blood stream, tethered to me for life. Camdyn and I snuck back into my room at my sister’s house last night. This morning, he showered, dressed, and left the way he came, only to go around the front of the house. I glared at him for ringing the doorbell. He was unapologetically an asshole when Hillary told him to wait outside. My heart thrummed my eardrums while I rode on the back of his Harley to school.
Now, it’s half a day in, and Camdyn’s glaring at me through the tiny window of my English class. Pick up the phone—his eyes say, expletives galore.
I text him: “You promised your mom. Btw, we’re discussing Hemingway. You don’t get to disrespect Hemingway.”
Harley Guy: I don’t get to kill Hemingway either. He’s fucking dead. I’m gonna give you five seconds.
Harley Guy: Four seconds . . .
The texted notifications ping repeatedly. On two, the doorknob turns, and fire ignites my ass.
I pop up from the seat. “May I, uh, use the restroom.”
“Yes. Must you take your things, Miss Greene?” A bushy, silver brow ascends.
“I don’t know any of y’all like that.”
The classroom laughs at my joke as I exit. In the hallway, I cringe and swat Camdyn. “Why aren’t you in class?”
“Big Bear is hours away. We need to drop off my bike.”
I squirm. “Can we see my mom, pleaseee?”
“Yeah.” He kisses my forehead.
“Now, Mr. MacKenzie,” I stiffly jut my chin, very inconspicuous to the guard in suit a few doors down the hall, “how’ll we get past him?”
Camdyn grips my butt. “Your ass isn’t working?”
I laugh. “Excuse me. I could outrun you. I’m speaking specifically out of concern for you. I’d leave you here, stuck and unable to leave school grounds.”
“Well, out of all the bad shit I ever did, if I can’t walk past that guy, we have a fucking problem, Lo.”
My brow lifts. “He’s not school security?”
“Nah. Private sector. We’re amongst royals, beautiful.”
“So, my entire first day, I endured torture at your hands, and all I had to do was waltz out?”
* * *
Our first stop is Dominguez Hills, where MacKenzie Freight commands an entire block. Camdyn inputs a code into a panel, and a wrought iron gate opens.
I burrow against him as a thought chills me to my core. If Nan’s adamant that their enemies do not die under their roof, this is an ideal scenario. Camdyn guides the bike into the lot. Across from us are a bunch of big rigs. He pulls next to a Silverado.
“Is there somewhere I can change?” I stare up at Camdyn, feeling him out for the truth. Are JT and Sterling rotting here? He places our backpacks, filled with clothing instead of textbooks, into the bed of the Silverado.
“Not a good idea. Stand next to the truck. I’ll be a minute.”
Five minutes later, Camdyn comes out of a massive garage, gestures to the truck, and I climb inside. He’s moving with purpose.
