Chapter Twenty-Two
Iyawned. Of course, I slept like shit the first night back in my own bed. And despite being pissed at Brock, I missed the scent of him clinging to his sheets.
What it boiled down to… I missed the asshole.
I missed Brock.
Fuck me.
Mads, Grayson, and I were meeting after school at her house. While the other guys were at practice, the three of us would be plotting and scheming, the only thing it seemed I did this year. Grayson came up with some bullshit excuse to get out of practice that wouldn’t raise any alarms, but Brock was suspicious by nature.
Brock and I hadn’t talk much. I was still pissed at him. Not only had Brock lied to me, he then refused my help. I hadn’t forgiven him… yet. However, that didn’t stop him or the guys from walking me to class. They kept up the routine despite Carter not returning to school until next week. The doctor ordered him to remain home for two weeks.
I was dreading the day.
Technically, I was grounded, which meant I was to go straight home from school. Screw that. Angie was too self-absorbed to notice I wasn’t home until dinner, and even if she noticed, what would she do? Ground me longer?
So what?
After school, I met Mads at her car. She leaned against her little silver Mercedes, sporting our school uniform with ripped black tights, a cigarette dangling between her lips. “You ready, bitch?” she grinned, tossing the smoke to the ground before stomping on it with the heel of her combat boots.
“Fuck yes, get me the hell out of here.” I exhaled, opening the passenger door and tossing my bag in the back seat.
“Good, because the suspense is literally killing me. I can’t wait another minute,” she said, sliding into the driver seat.
It took just a few minutes to get to her house, and Grayson’s Jeep was already parked in the half-circle driveway. He hopped out of the car and waited for us, his lips pulled into a firm line. “This better be worth my time.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
“Chill out, Gray. You’re so serious all the time,” Mads said as we walked up to the house.
“Your point?” he retorted, expression unchanging.
I almost laughed.
Mads keyed in the door code, and the little light blinked green. “Forget it. Come on, let’s go inside and get something to drink. My parents are still at work.”
“Is Lucy here?” Grayson asked. Lucy was the Clarkes’ housekeeper and cook. She basically ran the house.
“Yeah,” she said over her shoulder, leading us down the hallway.
“Do you think she’d make us a batch of her chocolate chip cookies and a plate of nachos?” he asked.
Good lord. Typical boy. But I had to admit, it sounded amazing.
Mads paused at the kitchen threshold and threw Grayson a sidelong glance. “Are you high?”
He blinked. “No.”
Her lips twitched. “Whatever. But only if you stop being a douchebag.”
A hint of a smile cracked at the corner of his mouth. “That’s like asking me to stop being me.”
“And?” she prompted.
The three of us gathered around the patio table in her screened-in porch, not only for privacy from Lucy but also so Mads could puff away on her cancer sticks. A pitcher of lemonade sat in the middle of the table with three clear glasses.
“Got any vodka?” Grayson asked. “I have a feeling we’re going to need it.” His gaze slid to me.