Eighteen - River
After our talk, Callum gently leads me between two houses and out of view from the party, and we settle ourselves in the grass between the two big houses. Callum’s brows furrow when he looks at me and leans in, kissing my cheek.
“I gotta-gotta…” His lips roll together when he stands, gesturing to his house down the block. Swallowing hard, his face flushes. “Go to the bathroom,” he mumbles with embarrassment, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You want to come with or….”
I smile at him and shake my head. “I’ll stay here and away from the predators,” I say, pointing in the party's direction.
He nods. “Stay and be safe. He… he looked at you with so much hate. I kind of wanted-wanted to punch him.” I smile even wider at the imagery of his fist hitting Judge Drake's face.
“Don’t mess up your hands,” I say, shaking my head.
Callum nervously waves as he jogs toward his house with urgency, leaving me to fend for myself. I pull out my new phone, enjoying the privacy the homes provide for me, and scroll SpaceFace aimlessly, looking for anything to entertain me while I wait for the assfaces—totally renaming their band that whenever they win the Battle of the Bands—who left me here to fend for myself. Seriously? How can they just walk away with their heads hung low and their puppy tails tucked, leaving me up against the damn lions circling me. My stomach churns with the similarities between them and Van. I mean, Van never would have brought me here in the first place, but still. He left me because his mean daddy said so. Oh well, I’m better off without him.
“River.”
I sigh to myself, leaning my head back against the cool side of the house. Speak of the devil. It’s like I summoned him to join me in my hiding place. I squint, looking up toward the towering figure looming above me.
“Van,” I say in an equally ominous voice, shoving my phone into my pocket. To equal the playing field, I jump to my feet and wipe away the grass clippings from my ass. “What brings you to my little oasis?” I ask with scathing sarcasm dripping from my tongue.
He rolls his eyes toward the sky, shaking his head like he can't with me. “I saw you got cornered by my dad, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He swipes his foot along the manicured grass, looking at me coyly through his eyelashes.
Fucking boys and their beautiful eyelashes. How'd they get so damn blessed? And me. I have to apply fakes to achieve what they get just by waking up and greeting the sun.
I scoff. “Okay? No, I'm not. Your dad made me lose my appetite.” I shake my head in disgust, mourning the food I had to throw away.
Ugh. The feeling of his slimy fingers wrapped around my arm lingers on my flesh, and I want to hurl. No one should touch anyone without permission.
He snorts. “Sorry about him. He was just surprised to see you here. Me too, actually.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but I know Van better than he thinks I do. He's fishing for answers from me in his usual way.
“Oh, yeah? Surprised to see me? I'm always at these barbecues. What're you talking about?” I quip, earning myself a scoff of disbelief.
“Why're you here, Rivey?” he asks, narrowing his eyes, using the nickname I never wanted to hear from his lips again. It’s the one he used to seduce me into the backseat of his car and the one he moaned when he thrust into me.
“I'm here for the food,” I snark, rocking on my toes. I mean, it’s not a lie. “Delicious, by the way.” I point fingers guns in his direction, earning another scowl. I live to piss this guy off.
“No,” he grits out, stepping up to me, effectively entering my personal space. “You're here with them. Aren't you?” His brows furrow like he's constipated, and I almost suggest adding some prune juice to his diet. But I bite my tongue because he knows the answer. He apparently watched me go to Callum's a few days ago.
I frown. “And what if I am? What is it to you?” I bite back, putting my hand on my hip.
Here we go. Another lecture from someone I don't want a lesson from. I trust only five people in this world enough to listen to their lectures, and it doesn't include this assclown.
“I thought I warned you away from them, Rivey. Seriously! What are you doing with them? They're users. They only want you for one thing,” he growls, caging me in against the house. His eyes dilate when he presses his entire body against mine, relaxing into me. My whole body stiffens beneath his chest, and the worst thoughts roar through my mind. We’re alone, and he’s a lot stronger than me. Plus, the wild look in his eye doesn’t promise a happy ending. I swear my throat closes, and my heart pounds in my ears when he leans down, getting into my face. “They are going to use you and then throw you away. Mark my damn words,” he hisses between his teeth.
“What? Like you did?” I seethe, clenching my teeth.
I cock my head, running my fingers over the wooden grip of my special knife in my pocket. Since my rape, I’ve never left without it. It has protected me on many occasions. And right now? Yeah, I'm half tempted to sink it deep into his balls and watch him scream in agony and rue the day he ever warned me and tried to run my life.
If Van thinks he can corner me like this and put his face directly into mine, then he's way too fucking comfortable with me. Like everyone else, he deeply underestimates me, thinking he can pin me against the wall and tell me what I can and can't do or who I can fuck. He’s way out of line, and I’m about to show him the error of his ways.
“You didn't like it when I called you daddy when we screwed. So, what makes you think you can act like my daddy now?” I seethe, fitting my closed knife against his balls. In one flick, I could have him flayed open and begging for the hospital. “You have some balls on you, Van. I'll give you that. But you're about to lose them for overstepping if you're not careful. We've established that I'm a big girl and don't need my ex-boyfriend to protect me anymore. So, what will it be? Balls? No balls? Your choice. With the flick of my damn wrist, I could relieve you of them.” His Adam's apple bobs when his eyes dart down to my fingers wrapped around the handle of my knife. I swear all the blood rushes to his face, and he shakes his head.
“Rivey,” he grumbles, hanging his head in defeat, and takes one step back. “You'll thank me one day for giving you….”
“The fuck you think you're doing?” A low, menacing voice comes from beside us with such possession, I swear my nipples pebble under my shirt, showing their approval.
In the blink of an eye, Van is pushed off of me and stumbles backward with a stunned expression lining his face. Kieran charges him again with flaring nostrils and tight fists like a damn wild bull on the loose.
“Kieran,” I say in a deep voice, scanning his face and trying to stop it. “He's not worth it.” His eyes flick to the knife in my hand, hanging loosely without the blade protruding.
“You felt threatened,” he hisses, nodding toward the knife. “What the fuck were you saying to her, Donny boy?” he asks, flexing his fists. “You looked like you were getting fucking cozy with my girlfriend.”
“Again, with the girlfriend remarks!” I hiss, tossing my hands up in exasperation.
It’s like they think if they keep saying it over and over again that I’ll finally believe it. But there’s no way I’m their anything. Nothing but a good time and…. whatever else I have to convince myself of.
Kieran shifts his weight from foot to foot, cracking his knuckles like a crazy man hell-bent on defending my honor. Great. He's going to kick Van's ass. Not that Van doesn't deserve a good-ass whooping, but still. At a family cookout where their parents already hate me. It's not what I need right now. What I need is a stack of ribs, a damn strawberry milkshake, and no damn drama. Is that too much to ask for?
“Kieran,” I warn with a growl, stepping toward him.
“What's it to you, Knight? Huh? Her pussy that good that you're going to punch me in the face?” Redness takes over Van's face when he steps up to Kieran, facing off with him with a snarl.
I frown. “Leave my pussy out of this. You know what? You're all jackasses.” I throw my hands in the air when Kieran grabs him by the collar and holds him close. Idiots. They're all fucking idiots. I shake my head, stuffing my knife back into my pocket. They can keep their balls and have fun beating the snot out of each other.
“Nah. You're just a jealous asshole,” Kieran spits through gritted teeth. “It tears you apart that the girl you're in love with is on my dick, not yours. But that's your fault, isn't it, Drake?” Kieran cocks his head as Van seethes in his grip, shaking with anger. His eyes cut to mine, and I fucking sigh at the situation. Who knew my Knight would argue and defend my pussy against my stupid ex-boyfriend who broke my heart. It'd be romantic if he weren't being such a dick.
“You shouldn't have her,” Van grits out, shoving against Kieran, and knocks them both to the ground. Van lands on top of Kieran and raises his fist, letting it dangle.
“God damn it!” I hiss, marching toward them and grabbing his hand. “This isn't cute, romantic, or whatever the hell you two think you're fighting over. This is fucking barbaric. Get. Off. Of. Him.” I grunt, trying to pull Van's lean body off Kieran, but he doesn't budge. He stays on top of Kieran, glaring down at the smirking asshole beneath him who eggs him on with a sparkle in his eyes.
“Do it, Van,” Kieran says in a low, gruff voice. “Punch me like you want to.”
“You're not helping, Assface,” I huff, trying to pull Van's hand back, but it backfires when I stumble over my feet and land hard on my ass. As soon as my hand releases from his fist, he throws it into the side of Kieran's laughing face.
“Oh God, yes,” Kieran shouts when Van whales on him repeatedly, pounding his fist into his face until blood spurts out of his nose. He laughs, thrashes around, and soaks up the pain every fist inflicts.
“Van, you asshole!” I hiss, getting into the mix and launching myself at my stupid ex, who couldn't leave it alone.
“What the hell?” Rad's voice rings through the fray of fists, and he forces Van off and helps my aching body off the ground. “Dude, seriously?” he asks Kieran, who jumps to his feet, wiping the blood from under his nose. He loosens his neck and grins with bloody teeth in Van's direction.
“Feel better?” Kieran asks in a condescending tone and cocks his head.
“Loads,” Van grits out, popping his knuckles.
“Go the fuck back home, Van,” Asher demands, strolling between the houses with so much fucking confidence it chokes the air. “You've said your peace. Now get the fuck out. She doesn't want you. We don't want you. Run along.” He flicks his wrist with an arrogant attitude.
“I'm just trying to keep you safe, Rivey,” Van says, cutting his eyes to me. “They're going to hurt you.” I swear his eyes mist over when he looks at me, pleading with me to heed his words.
“Just like you did?” I say, letting all my vulnerabilities shine through.
His lips roll together, and his eyes drop, dripping in shame. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “But I'd never make that mistake again.” He shakes his head, snapping back when a new voice comes toward us.
“Van, baby! What are you doing?”
I jerk my head when a beautiful brunette strolls up with her hand on her chest and shock on her face. But that's not what draws me in. Nope. It's the giant diamond glistening on her left hand—an engagement ring. Correction, a massive engagement ring. Jesus. That has to cost more than my yearly salary. “Did you…. did you fight?” She takes his hand, examining the blood on his fist, and then looks at Kieran's face. “Oh, no,” she gasps.
“Heya, Whitley,” Rad greets, tipping his head in her direction with a small, knowing smirk.
“Rad,” she greets with a frown, taking the crowd in until she gets to me. Her face hardens, and her ice-blue eyes cut to Van, where guilt is written all over his face.
“I see,” she huffs and turns to walk away.
“Whitley, wait!” he shouts, running until he catches up to her. “It's not what it looks like, I promise.”
“And her?” She points her manicured nail directly at me.
I groan, running a hand down my face. Jesus. I just need one day when I'm not put in this kind of situation. Just one! That’s all I’m asking for.
“It's nothing.” His words would have cut like a knife a few months ago and bled me dry, but today I'm thankful I can smile in his direction and not feel a damn thing. Thanks for that, Van. You’ve been a real treat. But I’ve moved on to bigger and better things.
“Don't worry!” I shout, waving my arm at her. “He was only warning me away from their dicks! Not his!” She gasps, slapping Van across the face, and takes off with choked sobs.
Am I an asshole? Sure. But I won't let anyone spread lies about me right to my face. If I didn't mean a damn thing to him, then he would have let me go completely. He's just mad I won't let him sneak into the record store office with me anymore. I'd say he's pussy deprived. But that would be a lie. He's obviously been hiding a girlfriend—no, scratch that—a fiancé away. The question is, when did he start dating her? And was it while we were screwing around? If there's one thing I don't stand for, it's fucking cheating.
“Oh, Pretty Girl.” Rad barks a laugh, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and turning my face toward his. “Don’t listen to him, okay?” he asks, wrapping his fingers around my jaw and directing my mouth to his.
“Get off me, you sweaty asshole,” I grunt, pushing his body away. He cackles as he stumbles, only righting himself when he bumps into the side of the house.
“He's such a fucking dick,” Kieran explodes, grinding his teeth.
“Takes one to know one,” Callum offers with a grunt, strolling towards us with his hands in his pocket. “You-you okay?” he asks, coming to my side and taking my cheeks in his palms. With worried eyes, he looks me over and nods, kissing my forehead.
“I’m fine,” I mumble, leaning into his embrace even though I’m anything but fine.
“Fuck sakes,” Asher mutters, running a hand down his face, shaking his head. “I’m going to kill that guy.” Yeah, me too, pal.
“Welcome to the shit show,” Rad says with a grimace, looking me over too. “Where every year our neighborhood cookout turns into a Real Housewives drama.”
I wrinkle my nose. “You've watched Real Housewives?” I ask, raising a brow and bursting out laughing when his cheeks turn pink.
“ Real Housewives. Laguna Beach. The Hills . Any old-school reality drama you can think of, Rad loved to indulge in,” Asher says dryly with an eye roll.
“Dick,” Rad mutters, swiping a hand through his mullet.
“Well, listen. As much as I've so loved being forced to live through this hell, I'd appreciate it if someone could take me home. I have homework, and some of us have to get up and go to a job in the morning,” I say with a pointed look.
“Grab your things, Pretty Girl,” Rad says with a pout, nodding toward his house, reminding me I left my backpack at their house because I was under the impression, we were doing our usual couch dates. “I’ll take you home,” he says through a defeated sigh, clinging to me like he doesn't want to let me go.
Before we can manage a step, Asher huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Little Brat will have to wait. My father has requested our musical presence,” he says through gritted teeth.
“What?” Callum murmurs, knitting his brows together when Asher heaves a breath.
“Musical presence?” I snort, nearly jerking back when his heated gaze finds mine, overflowing with a wave of fiery anger he can't seem to contain.
“He wants us to play?” Callum asks, cocking his head to the side, inspecting Asher's agitated state.
“He never wants us to play,” Kieran confesses, scrunching his face. “Why?” His Adam's apple bobs when he swallows hard, looking intently at Asher, studying his reaction.
“Yeah…” Asher says with confusion, shaking his head. “Fuck. I don't know. It's weird… The entire party wants to hear us.” He shrugs, moving a hand through his hair.
“You'll stay?” Callum murmurs in my ear when we meander back into the house, standing an inch apart in the living room.
“Sure,” I say, offering him a tight smile, despite wanting to run as far away as I can from Van and his weird, psycho bullshit.
With a few more murmured words, I sit my stuff down and help the boys move their equipment to the center of the cul-de-sac, prepping for their impromptu performance for the entire neighborhood crowding around. The crowd’s drunk voices rise into whistles and hollers the moment Asher hits the first note of the evening.