Drifter (MC Sinners Next Generation #2) Page 5

  Muff grins. “Good point. You win.”

  I wink. “I always do.”

  “Yo, we’re rollin’ out. My girl needs some rest,” Dad says, walking over and putting his empty beer bottle on my counter.

  “Meet you outside, Spike,” Cade says, standing. “Later, Mouse.”

  “Later Cade.” I smile.

  “Later, princess,” Muff says, kissing my forehead.

  “Later, dude.”

  “I’m goin’ to have a shower,” Max says, leaving the room.

  Dad watches him go, then turns to me. “That boy sleepin’ on the sofa?”

  I scoff. “Dad, he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “You sure about that?”

  I blink. “Ah, yes. In case you missed the last twenty-one years of my life – he’s my best friend.”

  His eyes narrow. “Better not find out he is.”

  I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “It could be a whole lot worse. Think about that.”

  Dad chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist. “So it could. Later, baby. Call me when you wake tomorrow.”

  “I will.”

  He lets me go and walks to the door. “Love you, kid.”

  “Love you too, old man.”

  I watch him go and then turn back to the now quiet apartment. I collect the beer bottles and put them in the bin, and then pop a few painkillers before retreating to my room. Max is still in the shower so I climb into bed and text my mom, promising to call her tomorrow, and that everything is fine—it’s just a bump. This takes a bit of reassuring, but she eventually lets it go on the promise that I call her as soon as I wake.

  “Hey.”

  I look up to see Max at the door, his hair wet, his pants and tee old and ratty.

  “Cute jammies.”

  He grins. “Old clothes are the best to sleep in. Scoot over.”

  I shift over, and he flops onto the bed beside me. “Hectic night.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Did you let Shay know everything is okay?”

  “Yep. Called her when you were driving home with Spike.”

  I exhale slowly. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s happy you’re okay.”

  “I can’t believe someone pushed me.”

  He grunts. “Did you see who it was?”

  “No, I didn’t. I just felt someone shove, and then I was going down.”

  “It’s a fucking coward move.”

  He’s right about that.

  “It could have just been a drunk person stumbling, Max.”

  “Hmmm.”

  I shuffle into the blankets. “My head hurts. You going to sleep here or out there?”

  “Your dad would gut me if he knew I slept here.”

  I yawn and wave a hand. “It’s sleeping, Max, nothing more. We used to do it all the time when they were away on rides.”

  “Right, you convinced me,” he says, flicking back the covers and climbing in. “Don’t snore. You know I hate it.”

  I giggle softly. “I’ll try, but I’m drugged; it’s highly possible I will.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  I smile. “Night, Max. Thanks for being there.”

  “Always, honey.”

  I reach over and take his hand. He curls his fingers around mine, and we fall asleep together, just like we always used to. Completely natural to both of us.

  ~*~*~*~

  “Everyone is talking about it!” Shay cries, rushing down the hall beside me on Monday.

  “Talking about me hitting my head?” I mutter.

  “No, about Diesel jumping in to save you!”

  I stop and turn to her. “He was probably the only sober person able enough to do it.”

  “No way. I saw it happen!”

  I blink. “You did?” I whisper. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “You had Max over all weekend. I didn’t want to spoil your time with him.”

  “Oh,” I say, hooking an arm through hers. “This ever happens again, you spoil my time.”

  She laughs. “Okay so I was with my friends, and I didn’t see who pushed you but I heard the commotion when you hit the water. I didn’t know it was you at first. Diesel was standing with Bambi.”

  “Wait, Bambi?”

  “That’s what I call his doe-eyed little tramp. She thinks she’s queen of this school, but really she’s just a stupid little deer. I’d like to run her over.”

  I laugh so hard I snort. “You’re evil, and I love it. Carry on.”

  “So, he was standing with Bambi. Then suddenly he’s shoving her off and running towards the pool. He just launched in there, no hesitation. The look on his face when he pulled you to the surface? He looked . . . well he looked angry, but he also looked worried. Like he cared what happened to you. It was almost sweet. I didn’t see him again, but I can tell you, it was intense. Bambi was sooo pissed he threw her off, she tripped and everyone laughed at her.”

  “He was just helping—nothing major,” I say, even though my heart is fluttering at her story. “He would have done it for anyone.”

  “No way. He’s been to heaps of parties, and people fall in that pool all the time. I’ve never seen him lift a finger to help.”

  “Maybe he saw me hit my head.”

  “Or maybe you intrigue him.”

  She wiggles her brows.

  Do I? Intrigue him? “Well, maybe. I’ve got to get to class.”

  “I’m coming to the café for a coffee after class. Are you working?”

  “Not tonight. First week in and I had to take a day off because of my head.”

  “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

  I smile. “I hope so.”

  “You want me to bring you a coffee?”

  I hug her. “I’d love you forever.”

  “Awesome, babe. Later.”

  “Later.”

  She disappears down the hall, and I hurry to my locker. I need to swap books before my next lecture. I’m busy digging through when a voice behind me has my hands freezing mid-movement.

  “Didn’t think you’d be here.”

  His voice travels from my toes right to my head, making my skin prickle. I turn slowly and see Diesel standing behind me, his arms crossed, a faded leather jacket covering his muscled shoulders. His eyes look like melted milk chocolate today.

  “I am. It’s, well, not so bad,” I say, pointing to my head. “I was meaning to find you. I wanted to thank you for what you did.”

  He shrugs. “Would have jumped in for anyone.”

  My heart sinks. “Well, thanks anyway.”

  His eyes skitter across my face before going cold as stone again. “Yeah, no problems . . . what’s your name again?”

  God, that hurts.

  “Mercedes,” I mutter.

  “Right.”

  He seems bored. I want to punch him in the face. I’m so tired of trying to figure out if this guy remembers me. I’m just going to go ahead and ask him.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  He focuses back on me. “Should I?”

  “Are you always this much of a pig, or is just me?”

  His jaw tics. “What is your problem?”

  “I came to see your band, remember? You were a jerk back then, too. You were also, sadly, my first kiss. It’s nice to know I’m one of so many that you can’t even remember my face.”

  His face is hard when he leans in close. “I remember faces; I guess yours just wasn’t good enough to stick.”

  Fuck.

  That hurt like hell.

  “You’re a pig,” I snap. “If I was big enough, I’d fly-kick you right in the face.”

  His brows go up, but his face quickly turns impassive. “Like to see you try, Killer.”

  With that, he turns and walks off.

  God. He’s so frustrating.

  Shay is wrong. He doesn’t give a crap about me, or anyone else.

  In fact, I don’t even think he gives a crap about
himself.

  ~*~*~*~

  I stare through the glass at Diesel, sitting in the classroom by himself, writing in a notebook. I said I was done giving a crap about him, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes from the boy who has caused so much heartache. He’s lost in whatever he’s writing. His face is soft, his body relaxed. I’ve not seen him like that. It changes everything about him. I need to be in this class early to discuss a paper with the professor, who is clearly not here, so I have no choice but to knock softly.

  Diesel jerks his head up, and his face instantly hardens when he sees me.

  With a sigh I open the door. “Sorry. I need to talk to Mr. Dean before class.”

  “Clearly you can see he ain’t here.”

  “He will be in a few minutes.”

  He grunts and stands, jerking up his notebook and shoving his chair back. He storms right past me and as he’s going, a piece of paper flies from his book. He doesn’t notice and steps out, slamming the door. I walk over and lift the paper into my hands, glancing down at the beautiful script-style writing. He has nice handwriting, for a dude. I read the words.

  Still waters run deep,

  It’s where the darkest parts of us sleep.

  In the light of day,

  We’re so much more than what we say.

  I fold the paper gently, but stop midway through and decide to do something a little crazy. I sit in the chair and study the words, then I begin writing below his script.

  If we opened our souls for others to see,

  The darkest parts of us might be free.

  When the night came, we would no longer have to hide,

  We could show who we were,

  Everything that’s inside.

  I fold the paper and stand quickly, rushing to the door before I chicken out. I find Diesel’s locker and slip it in, making sure no one is watching before I rush back to the classroom.

  I hope I didn’t just make a huge mistake.

  ~*~*~*~

  “Zombie party, Saturday night. You in?” Taj says, as we leave that evening.

  “Zombie party? What are we, five?”

  “Zombies are in right now. It’s so much fun. You in?”

  I frown. “Do I have to dress up?”

  “Um yes. It’s a zombie party.”

  I sigh. “I don’t really do dress-ups.”

  “Don’t be such a party pooper. Come with. Please!” He puts his hands together and gives me his version of puppy-dog eyes.

  “Ugh, fine, but if I get pushed into another pool it’ll be on you.”

  He puts a hand over his heart. “You have my word no one shall push you into any pools.”

  I grin. “I’m taking you up on that.”

  “I can’t believe she’s got the nerve to show at another party.”

  The sound of Maxine’s voice to my left has both Taj and I spinning around. I notice a group of people standing around Diesel’s truck, all of them clearly having heard our conversation by the way they’re either staring at us or grinning.

  “Just keep walking,” Taj says.

  I contemplate doing just that, but the stubborn side of me kicks in. I’ve ignored them, tried to keep out of it and mind my own business, but enough is enough. I’m not going to get pushed around by a bunch of snot-nosed bitches any longer. We’re not in freaking high school anymore, and even if we were, I still wouldn’t put up with it.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I say, stopping and turning towards them.

  “Come on,” Taj urges, tugging my arm.

  Maxine steps forward, throwing her hands on her hips. She cocks her head to the side and says, “Surely you can take a hint. Nobody wants you around, especially my man.”

  “Why is that?” I press, stepping forward. “Scared I might become more popular than you?”

  She laughs, and it sounds just like a damned song. “Honey, there is no one more popular than me.”

  “And you’re so sure of that?” I smirk.

  “Of course I am,” she scoffs. “I don’t like girls like you who come into a school thinking you can speak and act however you want.”

  My brows go up. “Last time I checked, it was a free country.”

  “This is my college,” she hisses, stepping forward. “Keep to yourself or deal with me.”

  I step closer so we’re nearly nose to nose. “Bring it on.”

  “You didn’t learn your lesson the other night. Clearly you need to learn it now.”

  “Go ahead.” I smirk again. “Teach me.”

  She lunges but I’m quicker. My dad taught me to fight when I was five years old. He said nobody would ever push me around. I’ve never had to use what I learned over the years, but it comes back to me quickly.

  I disengage Maxine, taking her arm and twisting it around behind her back. She squeals and I pull harder, doubling her over. Then I lean down to her ear. “I don’t like threats, and I don’t like bitches who think I’ll bend to their will. You stay away from me. I’ll stay away from you. Got it?”

  “You’ll regret this,” she squeals.

  The other girls don’t once try to jump in and help her. The guys are laughing, clearly entertained.

  “Do. You. Get. Me?” I growl.

  “Yes!” she screams.

  I let her go and step back. My eyes meet Diesel’s, and he shows nothing—he just leans against his car, watching me. He didn’t even try to help her, which I must admit, kind of makes me happy.

  “Have a good evening,” I say to the group in general and turn, walking off.

  “Holy shit!” Taj squeals, running up behind me. “Did you just do that?”

  I shrug. “I know self-defense.”

  “You just tackled the queen bee.”

  I look back over my shoulder to see her staring at me. I know I just threw fuel all over the fire, and I’m fairly certain I just made it worse.

  Great.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “So there’s a cow in the mix?” Pru asks over the phone later that night.

  “A major cow,” I huff. “She thinks she owns the college.”

  “Ugh, there’s always one. If I was there, I’d help you bust a move.”

  I laugh. “I can deal with people like her.”

  “You sure?”

  “Course. How’s everything back home?”

  She hums. “Boring as shit. I miss you. I have no one to party with.”

  “Come visit me for a weekend!”

  “I’m planning it. Now I’m working, I actually have to take time off. What kind of shit is that?”

  I chuckle. “Life sucks.”

  “It does. Listen, I gotta get to work. Call me soon.”

  “All over it. Laters.”

  “Later.”

  I hang up and try to chill out on my couch, but whoever lives below me insists on being loud and reckless yet again. I attempt to ignore it by cleaning up and reading a book, but I can’t focus. No matter how much I try to shut it out, I can’t seem to. I just want one freaking night of peace. Angry and tired, I leap off the couch and storm out of the apartment.

  I rush down the stairs until I reach the door that leads to the loud, pounding music. I bang on it for what seems like ages before someone finally opens it. I gasp when I see Diesel standing there, beer in hand, looking down at me.

  Wait, what? Diesel lives here too? I didn’t think he did. I’ve never seen him hanging around.

  “What the fuck do you want?” he mutters.

  I open my mouth, then close it because nothing is coming out.

  Diesel’s eyes drop to my outfit, and his lips quirk.

  I’m in an old Red Sox tee and a pair of tiny cotton shorts. Great. Super hot. My hair is no better, bunched on top of my head in a messy bun.

  “I . . .” I begin. “I didn’t know you lived here.”

  “I don’t; Spence does.”

  Right. Spencer.

  “Well, can you tell Spencer some of us need to sleep?”

  He studies my face befor
e his eyes drop to my lips. I squirm. “Loosen up. It’s just music.”

  I go right back to pissed off at his comment.

  “Seriously? I have study to do and a job to work. Not all of us get to do whatever we want. Tell your friend to turn the music down.”

  He leans against the doorframe. “Tell him yourself.”

  I sigh and shake my head. “It’s not a wonder you don’t have many friends.”

  His brows go up. “Got plenty of friends.”

  “Really? How many of them actually like you? I’m going to say less than half. The rest just hang around you because you’re popular.”

  His jaw tics. “More than you can say about yourself.”

  I shrug. “I’m a nice person. I actually have manners. My friends might be a quarter of yours in numbers, but they all like me.”

  “I don’t fuckin’ like you.”

  I cross my arms. “You’re not my friend.”

  “Good.”

  “I could have been your friend, and buddy, I would have been the best fucking friend you ever had, but you’re a dick. I don’t befriend dicks.”

  “What makes you think I would have wanted to be your friend?”

  I scoff. “Everybody wants to be my friend. I’m a very good friend. But you missed that train; it’s gone, passed, whistle blown . . .”

  He shakes his head. “You’re nuts.”

  I shrug and grin. “Tell Spencer to turn the music down.”

  “Do. It. Yourself,” he grunts, before turning and heading back into the apartment.

  “That is no way to get on my friends list!” I yell to his retreating form.

  I turn and walk off, still grinning. I just figured out a new way to handle Diesel.

  I reach my apartment and close the door. It’s only then I realize the music has lowered significantly. Someone pounds on my door a couple of minutes later, and I leap forward with a squeal. It takes a second before I can spin around and open it. Diesel is standing, arms crossed, looking at me. “You’re welcome,” he mutters.

  I have to blink a few times before I can speak. “I knew you wanted to be my friend.”

  He sighs and turns, walking off. Stupidly, desperately even, I yell out, “Diesel?”

  He stops and looks at me, eyes impassive.

  “Thanks.”

  He studies me. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

  Um. Random change of subject. I shrug. “My dad.”