Just as I pull the door open, it slams back closed. The tips of my fingers burn from the abrupt release.
“The fuck?” I yell when I turn to see who’s fucking with me.
Now would not be the best time for Kyle to come out and try to talk some sense into me. He couldn’t even be bothered to pull his cock out of Bronwyn long enough to fake some stupid ass excuses like she did.
He was going to find out sooner or later.
His words echo in my head. Does that mean this isn’t the first time they messed around? Tonight wasn’t some drunken mistake, which seemed like a good idea while filled with alcohol, that they’d both regret if they could even remember the details in the morning.
But it isn’t Kyle or Bronwyn now standing against my closed car door.
“Get the fuck out of my way, Mary,” I growl.
One thing I’ve never done while torturing her all these years is put my hands on her, but right now, it doesn’t seem like a bad idea. She must not recognize the pure hatred in my eyes because the girl doesn’t even flinch when I growl at her.
“Not going to happen, Dalton. Give me the fucking keys.” She holds her tiny hand out like I’d ever let her drive my car.
No one drives it—not even my parents.
“Move,” I snap. “Or I’ll move you myself.”
Her arms cross over her chest, but when I reach for the door handle again, she has the damn nerve to slap the keys out of my fucking hand.
“You’re pushing your fucking luck,” I warn, but before I can bend to collect the keys from the grass at our feet, she already has them clutched in her hand.
“You’re not driving,” she snaps, finally taking a few steps away from the car to put some distance between the two of us.
“I’m leaving.”
“You can walk, or you can ride, but you’re not driving home drunk.”
Glaring at her doesn’t seem to have the effect it normally does, and if going by the tension in her slender jaw, I don’t imagine she’s going to change her mind anytime soon. I don’t make a habit of drinking and driving, but my go-to plan, crashing here until I sober up, isn’t going to happen tonight. I never want to step foot on this property again. If I do, I may end up charged with murder, and I’m too good-looking for prison. Plus, neither Bronwyn nor Kyle is worth the damn trouble.
“Get in the passenger seat or walk,” she hisses.Chapter 4PiperAlthough I haven’t had anything to drink besides water tonight, that doesn’t stop my foot from trembling out of control each time I press the gas pedal. I know how Dalton feels about this car. I don’t think there’s anything more valuable to him in this world, and that’s saying a lot because he’s the most materialistic person I’ve met.
Why I insisted he let me drive, I don’t know. Actually, I do know. He’s drunk, and my parents would never forgive me if I saw him leave and didn’t try to stop him. I couldn’t go back inside and try to track down Frankie, and she didn’t answer my text when I sent her one once I got outside. Dalton is my fastest way home.
“Put on your damn seat belt,” I tell him for the tenth time as I pull away from Kyle’s house and head in the direction of our neighborhood. He doesn’t. It’s like he’s refusing to even acknowledge I spoke in the first place.
“This is all your fucking fault,” he spits from the passenger seat. He doesn’t even respect me enough to look in my direction while he insults me.
Dalton is mean when he’s sober, but it seems he’s even more noxious when he’s been drinking.
“You would blame me for not being able to control your girl,” I mutter.
When I opened that door, finding Vaughn, Bronwyn, and Kyle in their compromising positions, I was pissed. Not because Vaughn was with someone else, but because I was stupid enough not to listen to my gut in the first place. Then, like the soft-hearted pushover I was, I felt bad for Dalton. Not only was his girlfriend cheating on him, but she was doing so with his best friend. Frankie would never do something like that to me, and she knows dang well I’d never do anything like that to her.
What I walked in on was soap opera worthy. Things like that aren’t supposed to happen with high school kids. Girls our age are supposed to get upset when their boyfriends look at other girls too long, and guys should be getting upset when girls don’t wear their letterman jackets or smile too brightly at other boys. They aren’t supposed to get caught having threesomes with people they aren’t in relationships with. Or maybe that’s what these stupid parties are always like. If so, count me out. I want nothing to do with copious amounts of alcohol and demoralized teens. How half of our class hasn’t ended up pregnant or with STDs, I’ll never know.