“Whatever you did to him, undo it,” he says when I meet his eyes again.
“Me?” I ask, cocking a brow. “What about what he did to me?”
Baron studies me, though I can’t see his eyes well enough to read his expression through the reflection on his glasses. “What did he do to you?”
I snort. “Not going there.”
These are the kind of guys who will call me a slut all day long, but the minute I’m upset about a little anal, suddenly I’m a frigid little prude. Hell, he and Duke have probably done it more times than I’ve had regular sex. They wouldn’t understand that it’s not about what he did, it’s about the way he did it, the way he treated me.
If he’d asked me, given me a say in the matter, I could have been convinced. It’s not like I think anal is something to freak out over. I’d just like to be in on the decision to have it. With a little sweet talk and coaxing, Royal could get me to do just about anything in bed. He’s good at it, and I’m as adventurous as the next girl. But he didn’t bother. He wanted to show me where I stood, and he sure as shit did a good job of it.
“Make it right,” Baron says, the tone in his voice a warning. He opens the back door, and I slide in. I’m instantly engulfed in a cloud of marijuana smoke and beer fumes.
Baron slides in next to me, and Royal puts the car in drive and slams on the accelerator, throwing us all back against the seats. Duke whoops and holds up a beer bottle. It clatters against the window when he tips over as Royal turns out of the lot, squealing the tires and spitting up smoke like he’s street racing again.
“Hold on to your titties,” Duke yells. “Shit’s about to go down!”
I glance at Baron and mouth, “Is he okay?”
He catches my nod at Royal and shrugs. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“Ask me what?” Royal asks. The car lurches forward and then streaks along the street so fast it makes my stomach drop out.
“So this is your game?” I ask. “You get your hooks in me, reel me in, and make me think something could happen, and then you pull the rug out from under me. Rinse, repeat, and maybe throw in a few attempted murders to make it more fun.”
“Is that your game?” he asks. “Because you’re real fucking good at it.”
“Well, if you’re going to kill us both in this car, you might want to let your brothers out. I’m sure they deserve it, but you probably don’t agree.”
“I know how to fucking drive.”
“I honestly don’t know what you’re pissed about,” I say. “I did what you wanted the other day.”
Duke pops the top off another bottle of beer and turns it up, chugging half of it before belching loudly. “I hate it when Mommy and Daddy fight,” he says, then bursts into laughter, not seeming to notice that he’s the only one laughing at his own joke.
We turn onto the road that goes by the school, and for a second, my mind flashes to that basement. But the parking lot is full of cars all waiting, their lights on, like school just let out and they’re on their way out. We skid to a stop in a cloud of burning tires, and Duke rolls down the window and lurches most of the way out, waving to the car in the front of the line—Gloria’s Mustang.
She has the top down, the seats filled with her sisters and friends. They all scream like they just had a rock star sighting when they spot Duke. Gloria waves back and honks, her blonde hair wild the way it is when she’s at her realest. Just about every car in the lot starts honking after her.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“A surprise party,” Baron says, flashing an excited smile. “No one knows where it’s going to be until we take them there.”
“Including the hosts,” Duke says, howling with laughter and slapping his knee. It’s almost midnight, and he must have been drinking since the game ended to get that wasted already. “Suck it, Preston!”
“He won’t be there,” Baron says. “He ran like a festering pussy the second he got out of here, and he won’t come out of his little wormhole for anything.”
“Bullshit,” Royal says. “We’re going to get him this time. He won’t get away with this.”
“With what?” I ask.
“Someone’s been fucking with our cars,” Baron says. “He wrecked the Rover tonight.”
“Oh, shit,” I say. “Is that why you’re so pissed, Royal?”
“Fuck you,” he says. “Don’t pretend to care.”
“He keyed their cars last month, like a little bitch,” Duke says. “What kind of dude keys a car? That’s some petty-ass shit right there.”