3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
Bexley
"M om, I'm home," I call out, closing the front door behind me.
It's quiet, which can mean only one thing.
Dropping my bag at the doorway with a sigh, I make my way to the other end of the house, finding her bedroom door open. As I thought, she's passed out on top of the duvet, an empty bottle of cheap-ass wine on the bedside table.
She doesn't move a single muscle as I approach, soft snores coming from her petite frame.
I hate that she's withering away in front of me. It wasn't always like this. Once upon a time, I had a sickeningly happy family. But four years ago, my dad lost his job and went into a spiral. Eventually, it tore their marriage apart, and he walked out one night and never came back.
I stood at my bedroom window that night, watching him pack our only car. I silently begged him to look over at my window, to see me. My heart knew he was leaving, but if that wasn't enough solid evidence, their screaming had been.
I heard the whole fight. He had cheated with a neighbor while Mom was at work and I was at school. But despite knowing they had marital issues, a part of me thought— hoped —maybe I could change his mind. Maybe I would be enough for him to stay—or at the very least, not stray too far.
But sometimes wishes don't come true. Life isn’t a fairytale.
All I remember is him kissing me goodnight, tucking me into bed before the screaming had started. I stayed awake listening to it, doors slamming, before eventually all I could hear was sobs and the sound of the trunk being opened outside my bedroom window.
We never did find out where he went. All I know is nothing could save his mental spiral, not even me. And eventually, Mom went into a spiral too.
After she removed all traces of him from the house, she found solace in the bottom of a bottle. And from that day forward, I became the parent of the house. I was forced to grow up and take charge, making sure we kept on top of things whenever she was in one of her depressive moods–which slowly became more frequent until it was the norm.
Sadly, it's because of my forced hardness that I ended up ruling Cedar Heights. People loved that protective, fierce nature. They looked up to it. I guess in a way it was a comfort for them too—many having their own challenges in life and needing someone to step up that was willing to help them. Or probably just the fact that someone wanted to take care of them.
No one takes care of me. But I've long learned to accept that. There's no use breaking down, crying for my parents to change–I already tried. I’m here now, and that's what I need to focus on. I can't change the past, but I control my future.
Grabbing a spare blanket from her dresser, I drape it over her, grabbing the empty bottle of wine and discarding it into the trash. I replace it with a glass of water and two Tylenol for when she wakes, before heading to my bedroom.
Sitting down at my desk by the window, I open my bag and place my schedule in front of me. Memorizing tomorrow's classes, I switch out my textbooks for what I need before grabbing out my cell.
I had asked Archie to organize a bonfire night down at the beach. By beach, I mean it’s more like a small lake with rocks and sand, on the opposite side of Ridgeview Valley away from the caves. It's only about half a mile long, but it's on Cedar's side of town, so we hang there when we need to unwind.
I think after the day everyone has had they deserve a night to vent and decompress. Moody Mondays are already sad enough without throwing Willowbrook bastards into the mix.
Opening my cell, I read Arch's newest text message, confirming that everything is sorted. There’s still a few hours before I need to head down, so I go raid the fridge and make some cheap pasta with cheese before putting on some music and stare at the ceiling.
There's already a crowd of people on Cedar Beach when I pull up in my old blue Ford pickup.
Climbing out of the cab, I spot Archie immediately on the sand, red solo cup in his hand as he laughs and chats with a few people.
Sneaking up behind him, I surprise him when I pinch the cup from his hand, taking a sip as his eyes light up. "There you are! Was beginning to think you had gotten lost."
Swallowing the warm beer, I hand the cup back to him. "Got distracted doom scrolling for a bit. Thanks for getting this all sorted."
He nods. "Took us a while to get the fire going. Damn wind kept putting it out."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure bouncing toward me, and when I turn, Millie is there with two cups in her hands. "Bex!" she greets, holding out a cup. "I got you a drink."
"Thanks, Mills," I say warmly, taking it from her. "How was your first day?"
She visibly cringes, rolling her eyes with a sigh. "It was fine . How long did Principal Samson say we need to be there for again?"
"Hopefully not too long," I tell her softly. "Just keep your head high and be on your guard."
Something flashes in her eyes, but she doesn't voice it. There’s no need. I know she's itching to give back whatever bullshit someone throws at her. But I've made everyone promise to keep out of trouble…
However, if someone else starts it, they have my permission to end it .
This girl has been begging me to let her fight in the cage for months. But while I have no concerns that she could hold her own, her older brother, Parker, has forbidden her from stepping inside the rusty cage.
Parker is a junior, and just as passionate as his sister. If anyone can take her on or hold her back, it's probably him. God, I can only imagine what their sibling rivalry was like growing up.
Someone steps up behind me, snaking their arms around my torso. Leaning back, I recognize Steele's scent immediately, the smell of beer and crisp citrus cologne.
"Hey," he murmurs quietly into my ear.
Turning around to face him, I rest my arms on his shoulders, careful not to spill my drink. "Hey, Steele. How's your friend doing?"
His nose upturns at the mention but he just nonchalantly shrugs under my arms. "A few bruises but fine. His ego is more bruised than anything."
I nod. "And did you learn anything?"
Steele grins at me. "I've put a passcode on my cell. But I also deleted the photo."
Pushing up onto my toes, I kiss him softly. "Good."
"I'll leave you to mingle," Archie says from behind me. "I see Abby over there so I’m gonna say hi."
I look over my shoulder, giving him a nod of acknowledgement. "Have fun."
As he walks off, I watch as he makes his way over to the blonde senior by the edge of the water, surrounded by other cheerleaders.
Archie has been lusting after her for years, ever since they became neighbors in our freshman year. She was in a relationship with one of the football players until a few months back, and now that she's single, the two of them have been nearly inseparable. Though, he swears black and blue nothing has eventuated between them yet— yet being the key word. I give it a few more weeks at max. They've been looking pretty cozy lately, hugging and whispering in corners.
"Want to come over to my truck?" I ask quietly, gazing back at Steele. He nods eagerly, letting go of my waist to grab my hand.
He leads us over the sand and rocks to the gravelly parking lot, making a beeline for my Ford. I fish my keys out of my black ripped denim mini skirt, unlocking the driver's door before climbing in and reaching over to lift the lock on the passenger side.
Steele climbs in and when he shuts the door, the sounds of the beachgoers fade. Instantly, he charges across the seat, kissing me. I laugh, kissing him back while blindly trying to put my drink on the dash.
When it's securely and safely out of reach from tangled limbs, his hand lands on my thigh, sliding up my legs as I part them for him. Steele groans into my mouth when he reaches my hipster briefs, rubbing me through the thin material before carefully peeling it to the side with his fingers.
That's what I like about Steele and our arrangement—there's no expectations, no awkwardness. We both know what we want, and we go for it. And after the day I've had, an orgasm is high on my priority list of needs.
The tip of his finger slides up and down my slit, teasing me, and I buck my hips toward him. He smirks wickedly against my mouth, deliberately pulling back as his hand firmly presses into my inner thigh, squeezing the soft skin.
"Dammit, Steele," I grumble. "If you don't touch me, I'll—"
"You'll what, Bex?" he replies, kissing my neck. "Tease me back? Beg?"
"I don't beg," I mutter playfully. "I'll take matters into my own hands and make you watch. You won't be allowed to touch me. You'll have to sit there and watch my pussy get wet, listen to my moans while I come."
I hold back a laugh, biting my lip as his body tenses against me. I know he hates not being able to touch me, but we're both headstrong, constantly fighting for power and control. Secretly, I think he gets off on the fact that he gets to bring me to my knees. But I don't think he realizes that even when we're on our knees, we're still in control.
Before he can make a move toward me, I slide back, pushing his chest firmly with my hands. He falls backwards, lips parted as his eyes sparkle with defiance and challenge.
"Look at me," I say, bringing my leg up between us. I place one foot on his thigh while the other rests on the dash, giving him the perfect view of my cunt.
Slowly, I mimic his earlier actions, pulling the material aside as he watches. Swallowing, a rush of panic falls over his face when he realizes just how serious I am. His hand tries to come out to touch me and I smack it playfully away, waving my finger at him. "Uh, no. You had your chance, babe. Now, you get to be a spectator."
"Oh, come on," he groans, dropping his hand into his lap. He kneads his groin with his fist, eyes locked on the spot between my inner thighs.
My other hand trails down my pelvis, finding its way to my aching center. I start by rubbing lazy circles around my clit, before dipping lower, pressing a finger inside myself.
Steele's eyes blow wide, barely blinking. When I add another finger, pumping them in and out, he groans again, reaching for the waistband of his shorts.
"No," I tell him, shifting my foot from his thigh to his hardened cock. "If you can't touch me, you can't touch yourself either."
A string of curses fall from his lips as his head falls back onto the passenger window.
Grinning, I free a finger from the bunched-up material, using it to stroke my clit while my other hand continues to press into my core. I press my foot into his cock harder, earning myself a scattered groan as his hips jerk into me.
"Bex," he begs, and I can't help the tiny laugh that spills out of my lips.
"I don't beg," I reiterate. "But you do, don't you, Steele?"
Steele nods, just once. "You're being mean."
"Am I?" I tease, removing my fingers and leaning forward as I hold them out in front of his face.
He hungrily pulls them into his mouth, sucking my fingers clean with a shit-eating grin.
My throbbing body reminds me that I’ve forgotten it, and as I start to drag my hand back down, I’ve barely touched myself when a knock on the window behind me stops me in my tracks.
Whipping my head over my shoulder with a look of frustration, I relax when I see Archie. He looks uncomfortable and annoyed at having to interrupt, but I know he wouldn't do it unless it was something urgent.
Bringing my legs together, I sit upright in my seat, winding the window down. "Arch?"
"I'm sorry," he starts, apology evident in his tone as he looks between us. "I didn't want to interrupt but we have a bit of a situation."
"What is it?" I ask urgently, brows dipping.
Archie's face hardens, glancing over his shoulder at something.
"We have company, Bex. Those bastards from Willowbrook are here."