Page 93 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
“Gidge,” he starts, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
“Gidget,” I correct, but I’m pretty sure he’s already called me Gidge like six or seven times today, and I’ve let it slide. Why, I’m not sure. Usually, I’m pretty anal about that.
“Gidget,” Crown amends with a long sigh, looking down at the steel toes of his boots. “I never said I wanted you as my old lady.”
A cold front takes over my heated body, and I frown. No fucking way am I buying this shit.
“You—” I start, and Crown looks up at me with a slight smile—a very patronizing smile.
“Gidget, when a pretty girl kisses me, I can’t leave her hanging.” He takes a step forward, and I take one back. I can feel tension between us, and I don’t like it. With that look on his face, I’m even starting to wonder if it’s all on my side. “Cat would never …” Crown pauses and exhales sharply. “And besides, you know I’ve been dating Amber.”
Right.
Amber, professional club-whore. She’s been living at the DBD clubhouse since I was, what, twelve?
Jesus Christ.
“Can we go to the party now?” I choke out, feeling like a pit’s just opened up beneath my feet and dropped me into it. A little booze, some harmless flirting … and blow for everybody! What a nightmare.
“You’ll pass this out?” Crown asks, placing the bundle in my hand. His fingers brush across my skin, giving me goose bumps. Damn him for that. “I promise it won’t kill anybody if you make sure to dose it properly.”
“What’s it laced with?” I repeat, and Crown sighs.
“Gidget, trust that there are people who know better than you.” Crown releases the package and steps back, moving around me and over to his bike. He grabs his spare helmet and holds it out my way.
I shove the cocaine into one of the pockets on my leather jacket, and then take it, sliding it over my head and pushing my embarrassment and frustration down along with it.
Fuck Crown, fuck the club, and fuck Cat for trying to use me to further his interests yet again.
First thing tomorrow, I’m getting the hell out of here.
If that means I have to play along tonight … then fine.
Good for you, Cat. For once, I’ll do what you say.
Just don’t expect it to last.The Artefact is this towering confection of decay, a glorious urban blight in the middle of the woods. It’s covered in graffiti and rotten streamers from parties long celebrated and gone by. It’s been almost two years since I’ve been here, and I can’t say that I’ve missed it.
The cocaine in my pocket seems to burn through the fabric and into my skin as I saunter up to the front steps, noticing that the hole in the third stair has tripled in size since my last visit to the Jensen Manor. Because of my incorrigible luck, of course it’s Trevone Hundley sitting on the railing of the front porch, almost like he’s waiting for me.
“Heard rumors you might be showing up here tonight,” he says, looking at me with a steamy but wary sort of gaze, like he’d enjoy recreating that night at church camp, but doesn’t know if he’s willing to trust me again. I stomp up the steps, leaping over the hole, and landing with a satisfying flutter of dry, dead leaves. Trevone hands me a beer without my having to ask for it. “Surprised you’re willing to show your face.”
“Oh?” I ask with a raise of my brows, popping the top on the bottle and slugging nearly all of it in one go. Trevone looks on appreciatively, and then grins, handing me another. “And what rumors precede me now? Have I poisoned the volleyball team’s Gatorade? Fucked the entire football team?”
“Definitely not the entire football team,” Trevone says with a cocky half-smile. I swear, somewhere in the darkness, I can feel Crown watching me. For a moment, I’m tempted to kiss Trevone and see what happens. Dating Amber, huh? Well, if Crown wants her as his old lady, I’m sure she’ll jump at the chance. That woman’s been slobbering for a position in the club for years with no takers. “But rumor has it all that craziness up at camp is your fault. Well, your father’s fault anyway. Also heard you were bringing me a birthday gift.” His smirk tells me all I need to know about that gift.
My stomach twists into a knot, but I cover up the feeling by finishing my first beer and a substantial portion of my second. Trevone watches me, but I’m cool as a cucumber. I’ve spent years perfecting the concealment of my emotions. A little thing like this, it doesn’t mean shit. Especially since I’m not going to have to put up with it for much longer. That knot in my stomach gets a little tighter, but I can’t think too hard about it. Running is my only option. Saving that … that kid, is my only option. Rather, it’s the only option I have that I’ll be able to live with for the rest of my life.
