I’d spent the past two years of high school making her life miserable. Telling a few lies, ruining a few dates, all for my own pleasure. Challenging Tate—making her a high school outcast—made my world go round, but she never fought back. Not until now. Maybe she thought that since she was leaving town, she could throw caution to the wind.
My fists balled up with renewed energy, and I was suddenly paralyzed by how much I would miss this. Not miss hating her or taunting her.
Just. Miss. Her.
And with that realization, I tightened my jaw so hard it ached.
Motherfucker.
She still owned me.
“Tatum Nicole!” her dad yelled from the porch, and we both jumped back to reality. He raced over and grabbed the shirt out of her hand, stomping it out on the ground.
My eyes hadn’t left hers, but the trance was broken and I was finally able to let out a breath. “See you in a year, Tatum,” I bit out, hoping it sounded like a threat.
She tipped her chin up and only glared at me while her father ordered her inside for a shirt.
I walked back over to my house with Madman at my side and wiped the cool sweat off my forehead.
Goddamn. I sucked in air like it was going out of style.
Why couldn’t I get that girl out from under my skin? Her hot little pyrotechnics weren’t going to help flush her out, either.
That image would be in my head forever.
Fear took root in my brain as I realized that she was really leaving. I wasn’t going to be in control of her anymore. She’d live every day not thinking of me. She’d go on dates with any asshole that showed interest. And even worse, I wouldn’t see her or hear of her. She’d have a life without me in it, and I was scared.
Everything, all of a sudden, felt foreign and uncomfortable. My house, my neighborhood, the idea of going back to school in a week.
“Fuck,” I growled under my breath.
This shit had to end.
I needed a distraction. Lots of distractions.
Once inside, I released the dog and climbed the stairs to my bedroom, digging my phone out of my pocket on the way.
If it were anyone else calling, Madoc wouldn’t answer this early. But for his best friend, it only took two rings.
“I’m. Still. Sleeping,” he grumbled.
“You still up for throwing a pool party before school starts?” I asked, switching on Buckcherry’s Crazy Bitch on the iPod dock on my dresser.
“We’re talking about this now? School isn’t for another week.” He sounded like half of his face was buried in a pillow, but it was how he talked these days. After Tate broke his nose the other night, he had trouble breathing out of one of his nostrils.
“Today. This afternoon,” I said, walking over to my window.
“Dude!” he blurted out. “I’m still dead from last night.”
And in truth, so was I. My head was still swimming from the liquor I’d tried drowning in the night before, but there was no way I could sit around all day with nothing but my thoughts keeping me company.
Tate going to France for a year.
Standing in the front yard in her bra, lighting fires.
I shook the images from my head.
“Then hit the gym and sweat out the hangover,” I ordered. “I need a distraction.”
Why did I just say that? Now he would know something was wrong, and I didn’t like people knowing my shit.
“Is Tate gone?” he asked, almost timidly.
My shoulders tensed, but I kept my tone even as I watched her come out of her house in a new shirt. “Who’s talking about her? You throwing a party or not?”
The line was quiet for a few seconds before he mumbled, “Uh, huh.” He sounded like he had more to say but wisely decided to shut his damn mouth. “Fine. I don’t want to see the same people we saw last night, though. Who are we inviting?”
Looking over at the Bronco pulling out of the driveway and the fucking blonde driver that didn’t once turn around to look back, I clenched the phone to my ear. “Blondes. Lots of blondes.”
Madoc exhaled a quiet laugh. “You hate blondes.”
Not all. Just one.
I sighed. “Right now, I want to drown in them.” I didn’t care if Madoc connected the dots or not. He wouldn’t push and that’s why he was my best friend. “Send out texts and get the drinks. I’ll grab some food and head over in a few hours.”
I twisted around when I heard the purest little moan coming from the bed. The Purdue girl—I forgot her name—was waking up.
“Why not come over now? We can head to the gym and then gather supplies,” Madoc suggested, but my eyes were hot on the bare back of the girl in my bed. Her squirming had nudged the blanket down to the top of her ass, and her face was turned away from me. All I saw was the skin and her sunshine hair.
And I hung up on Madoc, because my bed was the only place I wanted to be at right then.