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“Shit,” he curses, pulling to the side of the road and turning to face me. “Are you okay?”
“I… need…” I grab the back of his head, pull him closer and as he nears with worried eyes, I lick the side of his face with a very wet tongue.
“You nasty little bitch,” he laughs, sitting back and wiping my spit off his face.
I grin and look at the cars passing us on the road. “Get driving or I’m going to be late.”
“SHIT!” we both scream when a man suddenly slams his hands against his side of the car.
His black eyes glare right at me and he taps a finger pad against the glass so hard his finger bends backwards. “You! I know you!”
“Oh my God,” I breathe. Laughing at the state of the asshole whose nose I broke. “It’s Cap guy.”
“I should get out and kick your ass,” Maddox snarls at him as I lean around him and give the prick my middle finger.
“Have a bath, you dirty fuck, you stink!” I shout at him, keeping my middle finger in his sight as Maddox pulls away.
I laugh with my friend as we put the carpark and the greasy guy behind us.
“What a loser.” Maddox sighs, shaking his head. Then he starts laughing again. “You dirty fuck…? That’s a new insult for you.”
“It was the first thing that came to my head.”
He squeezes my thigh. “I’d have kicked his ass, but you’re going to be late for work.”
“It’s fine.” I grin as I awkwardly take his hand off my thigh and place it back on the console. He’s never touched me like that before. It felt different. Or perhaps I’m reading into it. “I think breaking his nose was enough of a punishment.”
“That was badass.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
When his hand goes back to my thigh, I bite my lip but leave it be. It’s an intimate touch that I’m not sure how to deal with because it’s Maddox and Maddox doesn’t touch me intimately. We’re friends and that’s it.
I mean… I’m fucking his dad.
This is getting complicated. I need to tell him. I need to speak to Sargent about telling him.
Sargent
It’s done. I admire my handiwork. Clear plastic sheeting is carefully tacked to the wall and ground. An easel stands in the center of it, big enough to hold a rather large canvas. There’s a chest full of shelves that pull up, housing many different kinds of paints. I’m not sure what she favors so I bought them all.
There are also sketch pads of all sizes and pencils of all types and qualities.
It’s past the firepit, far enough away from the pool but not so far that she can’t see it.
I hope she likes it. Though I think I’ve done too much. There’s even an optional gazebo hood that will protect her from the sun if necessary.
It is too much.
I’m starting to panic.
I don’t do this. I don’t give gifts and make nice gestures.
Who am I anymore and what is this girl doing to me?
When I’m about to tear it all down, I hear a car pull up in the driveway. It sounds a lot like Devon’s but I don’t want to make assumptions. My heart is already hammering in my chest.
Why did I think any of this would be a good idea?
I enter the house through the back door and move to the front one. There’s a knock so I know it’s not Devon and Tempest.
I peek through the blinds and blink at what I’m seeing.
“What the fuck?” I breathe and yank open the door. “Absolutely fucking not. Get back in your shit car and fuck off.”
“But I want to see my son!”
Tempest
Devon drops me off, walks me to the door and follows me in without invitation. I suppose if he and Sargent are as close as what he says then it’s okay. Also he seemed really disturbed when we passed an old, gray car in the long driveway.
The second we both step inside I hear something smash and Devon curses and pushes me behind him. I watch as Sargent drags a flailing, screeching woman toward the door.
“MY SON!” she screams, frothing at the mouth as her brown eyes scan the area and her long, pale, chubby limbs flail.
“That’s Mad’s mum,” I whisper and the second her eyes come to me she stops flailing and screaming and drops like a dead weight.
Sargent drops her, nobody can hang onto a dead weight if they aren’t expecting it.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” she screeches at me, coming straight for me with clawed fingers outstretched. Devon pulls me back out of her grasp, literally lifting me off the ground and turning us both. “WHO IS SHE, SARGENT?”
“She high?” Devon asks Sargent as he wrestles with her again.
I see three angry scratch marks down his neck and rage bubbles in my gut.
