Purpose.
All the things I don’t.
“Don’t pretend you don’t notice,” he accuses. “Playin’ dumb is unattractive.”
“And assuming I care what you think is attractive is arrogant.”
“Don’t mean it’s untrue.” He shrugs unapologetically. “The dickbag from the court—”
“His name is Franky.”
He studies me a long, quiet moment before saying, “The punk wants you, and she hates it. That shit was obvious.”
“Oh yeah, she’s all sorts of sad about it.” I tilt my head like an asshole. “So sad, in fact, she pulled a random stranger’s cock into her mouth a whole five minutes after waking up today.” I glare. “Weird, right?”
Royce gapes at me, and then a loud laugh leaves him.
He leans against the door, fully shifting his body to face me.
“Well, fuck me, little Bishop.” He wipes at his mouth with a smile. “Didn’t expect the big C word to be your noun of choice.”
“Didn’t expect you to know what a noun was, so we’re even.”
He grins. “Say it again, she sucked my cock.”
I open my mouth, but quickly close it on a low laugh, shaking my head.
I’d say she more like tried to suck your cock, but whatever.
Another deep laugh leaves him and I swear, this time my chest grows warm.
Royce takes a quick drink of his chocolate milk, his attention coming right back to me. “I’d have fuckin’ swore you were a ‘penis’ kind of girl.”
“Yeah, well, guess I’m full of surprises,” I joke.
When I look to him, he licks his lips, his gaze floating toward the school.
The playful banter disappears. The newfound silence is unnerving and lasts for several minutes.
“Why aren’t they afraid of your brother?” he asks suddenly.
I couldn’t stop the ache from showing itself as I tried, and Royce doesn’t miss it.
Realization has his face falling and unease swims in my stomach.
I shrug against the seat. “They’d have to know he existed in order to fear him.”
I look at my house, at the sliver of a light peeking from a broken blind. “I’m not allowed to talk about my life before this place, about why or how I ended up here. It’s been almost four years now and not once have I ever gotten to speak to anyone about him. Until today, with you.” I look back to Royce who faces away, but has his eyes locked with mine. “I can’t be me, and I can’t talk about me... how messed up is that?”
A heavy, unshared thought shadows his brown eyes, thick tension now written across his brow.
“I need you to remember what I said, Brielle.” His eyes meet mine, a weighty seriousness suddenly woven within them. “Let those assholes think what they want. Don’t fight it, try and change it, or hide from it. Do you. They’re gonna judge you either way.”
I search his face for a sign of rehearsed nonsense or hidden agenda, only to come up short.
Maybe I’m broken or messed up in the head, but I almost wish the devil within would show himself—I’m not so sure what to do with an honest, hotheaded flirt with a loose belt and unclear intentions.
I’m also not dumb enough to assume those intentions aren’t driven by anything but destruction. Regardless, his words from last night come back, so I whisper them between us. Sort of.
“Screw ‘em.”
The corner of his lips twitch, but he faces forward.
A loud crash pulls our attention to the house, a sharp, screamed ‘fuck’ following, and my shoulders fall.
I don’t want to get out, but I don’t even belong in this car.
I turn to Royce.
“That your aunt?”
I sigh. “Yeah. I’m surprised she’s up. She’s always either gone when ten hits or good and passed out. I think that’s why she makes me come in late, so she doesn’t have to stare into the same eyes that haunt her own nightmares.”
I look to Royce and while his anger seems to have deepened, he doesn’t have to ask what I mean, the answer’s so obvious.
Before my dad became an evil dad, he was an evil brother.
“What do you do once inside?” he rasps.
“Cook, clean, fix what needs fixing, sometimes talk my cousin off a ledge, even if it’s a day I want to throw her over it.”
“Why do you bother with her at all?”
“Because it’s what’s right.” I give a small smile. “What sign are you?”
“Sign?”
“Your zodiac sign.”
He frowns. “Pisces ”
A grin pulls at my lips and I look away. “Now it all makes sense.”
When I look back, he eyes me curiously, and with slow, almost reluctant movement, Royce reaches over to shove my door open.
Impulses of a boy, manners of a man.
I climb out, waiting for the sound of the soft engine to roar away behind me, but it sits idle until I’m on the porch pushing the front door open.
With my hand on the edge of the worn wood, my body tucked half inside, I trail the little white car as it inches away, squinting at the brake lights when it comes to a full stop in the exact spot Mac was parked when Royce lifted me off the ground and led us both into the back seat earlier this morning.