Chapter 6
“Legends didn't wait around to be written.
They crawled out of Jersey nights, carried in the mouths of people who couldn't stop tellin' 'em. Almost true, fully-believed, and I knew better than anyone: stories hit harder when I was the headline.
Nights like that spun on B-sides—hot, drunk, forgotten by sunrise.
Confessions spilled. Fists flew. Nights ended in fogged-up windows and backseats. 'Cause the August heat got in our blood, turned thoughts filthy, made mouths reckless.
And on Boulevard East in Weehawken, just after midnight, the city skyline turned me into a fever dream. I wore summer nights like dirty secrets, with sweat slidin’ between my tits, cutoffs with no panties, and a walk that turned heads.
They all watched me. They always did.
I was the kind of girl you either wanted or wanted to be.
Guys tripped over their tongues around me.
Girls pulled their boys closer when I walked past. I got off on how easy it was to disarm any man.
How one seductive smile could make dicks stretch under denim.
How one lick of my lips could make their zippers strain, and how I could bend forward just enough to make 'em stupid.
I was never gonna fuck 'em. But knowing this didn’t stop every guy in the lot from starin’—except one.
Andrew Harding—twenty-years-old, a story in the makin’—was leanin’ against Danny’s ride with a smirk that didn’t give a single fuck.
Pure Italian-Jersey boy—dark, grippable hair, white tee huggin' his chest, button-up hangin’ lazy off his shoulder.
His black jeans were cut tight, gold chain catchin' the streetlight, with a jawline built for bitin', and a fuckin' smile that dropkicked your common sense and landed tongue-first into your panties.
He was the kind of hot that screamed two things: off-limits and most-wanted. The kind of hot that got a guy slapped and sucked off in the same breath. He was six feet of lean muscle, ready to bolt, belt a verse, or bend you over the hood.
I was leaned against Carlos’s car, boxed in by Carlos, Maria, and Josalyn. Their backs were to the Hudson while I lit my cigarette with a spark that wasn't mine.
“Who’s that leanin’ all fine against Danny’s car like he ain’t got a care in the fuckin’ world?” I muttered, watchin' him from behind my lashes.
Maria blew her smoke sideways. “That’s Andrew Harding.”
My head snapped. “Nah. That’s him?”
Maria flicked her chin up. “Mhm. He's chill, but they say he’ll ruin you for any other man in one night with just his mouth and hands.”
I scanned him, unimpressed. “Figured he’d be taller.”
Maria side-eyed me. “He’s six foot, Rox.”
“Please. That's the bare fuckin' minimum.”
Maria laughed. “Height don’t matter when he got it like that.”
“Got it like that, huh?” I smirked. “Wait ‘til I’m the one ruinin’ him.”
“Nah, girl.” Maria laughed, flickin’ ash. “You could walk over there butt-fuckin’ naked. He ain’t about that. Won’t even look at your tits if you flashed him. I’m tellin’ you—bro don’t bite.”
I dragged my smoke, watchin’ Andrew posted up by the hood with Danny, Mateo, and Frankie, the guys circlin' him—mouths runnin’, beers half-full. Laughter cracked between 'em, bouncin' off the windshields and side mirrors.
But not Andrew. He was noddin', half-listenin’, eyes pointed two cars down, where some drunk idiot was slammin’ out Still of the Night on a beat-up Strat plugged into an amp the size of a shoebox.
His grip strangled his Coke, five seconds from walkin’ over and yankin’ the guitar right outta his hands.
A grip that said I could school this guy in my fuckin’ sleep.
Smoke curled up around Maria’s face when she said, “Never seen him post up on a girl, Rox. He don’t chase pussy. He don’t play games. You try? Probably embarrass yourself.”
“Please. Every guy caves for pussy,” I said, my throat thick as smoke spilled out. “I never had a man say no. Only thing I ever been rejected by is a vending machine.”
Carlos leaned back against his car next to me. “That’s what I been sayin’. You? Fine as hell. That Harding kid? Please. He sees you comin’, it’s game over. Guaran-fuckin’-teed. Kid won’t last a minute. I wouldn’t believe half the shit people say about him.”
Josalyn packed her smokes, then tore off the wrapper. “Nah. I’m with Maria on this one. You go over there? He’ll be all polite and shit, then go right back to pretendin’ you don’t exist. He ain’t desperate.”
I leaned back against the car. “What kinda guy does shit like that?”
Maria huffed a breath. “The kinda guy who fingers you on a fire escape, got you sayin’ thank you, then walks you home like he’s your brother.” She turned to Josalyn. “Didn’t your cousin get with him?”
“Yeah, said he ate her out for two hours, got her off three times, called her beautiful, cleaned her up, grabbed his jacket, dipped. And yo—my cuz? Couldn’t turn a head in a blackout. No clue how she pulled him.”
“Nah. I’m callin’ bullshit.” Carlos reached into his pocket for a lighter. “I’ve seen Vic. Ain’t no one touchin’ that pussy with a ten foot pole.”
I faced Josalyn. “So what you sayin’? He’ll fuck wit’ anyone?”
“Nah, he's all mouth and hands, no dick."
"He don't fuck, he feeds." Maria cackled. "He's in his eat-pray-pussy era."
"And not just any girl,” Josalyn said, shakin’ her head. “Sammy—gorgeous Sammy—threw herself at him at a party. Made it easy. Bro wanted no part of it.”
“Yeah,” Maria agreed. “You get lucky with him the way you hit the lottery.”
“Nah. Y’all fuckin’ wild.” Carlos laughed. “Somethin’ wrong below the belt. Ain’t game, it’s damage control. Run it so hard nobody finds out he’s workin’ with a thumb.”
"Only one way to find out, babe." I pulled the last drag off my cigarette, lips catchin’ the filter. “He can act hard all he wants. I'mma melt that shit real quick.”
“Uh-huh. Same way you claim you got with that pitcher at Rutgers?” Maria gestured around the lot. “Look around, Rox. Every girl out here’s watchin’ him, nobody’s walkin’ up. They know they ain’t got a shot.”
“He’s gotta fuckin’ dick, Maria,” I said, pointin’ my cig at him. “Dick only craves holes. He ain’t untouchable. Watch—I’mma have his ass beggin’ in five minutes.”
Maria nodded with a smirk.
“Yeah, girl. You go right ahead wit’ yo bad self.”
Carlos rubbed his palms together. “Fifty bucks says he chasin’ that tail.”
Josalyn laughed. “Fifty bucks says he won’t.”
I flicked my cig into the parkin' lot and strut off, cherry glowin’ behind me. “I’m done talkin’. Y’all can kiss my ass while I’m walkin’.”
Josalyn exhaled. “Might be the last time you say that out loud," she muttered under her breath.
Carlos whistled low. The girls leaned into each other, crackin’ up. They all watched as I walked across the parkin' lot, liftin’ my hair off my neck so it didn't get caught in the wind.
The guys surroundin’ Andrew clocked me like thunder rollin' in—heads turned, beers lowered, eyes draggin' over my slick, sunburnt hips and thighs.
Danny licked his lips.
Matteo held a fist to his mouth.
Both would fall to their knees if I asked them to.
But Andrew? Coke bottle swingin’ from two fingers, his other hand trailin’ his bottom lip, eyes still on the beat-up Strat—the only thing in the lot that was makin’ his dick hard.
“Yo, Roxy,” Danny called out, half-teasing, half-thirsty. “You finally sick of girl-talk or you missin’ us?”
“Had to come over.” I leaned into my hip. “Was worried y’all forgot how to speak in full sentences.” I cocked a thin brow, eyes skatin’ around the circle. “Let me guess: Giants, boobs, and Madden? Or we still debatin’ which Dorito flavor’s the best?”
Danny barked out a laugh, turnin’ to Andrew, throwin’ an elbow into his arm. “Yo, tell her, bro. Full sentence. We were talkin’ ‘bout the economic collapse of the snack food industry. Very serious discussion.”
Andrew lifted the Coke, his grin lazy around the rim. “Doritos and titties.”
The crew broke out laughing, Matteo nearly spillin’ his drink. “For the record, it’s Cool Ranch. Always has been.”
I tipped my head, studying Andrew. “You look bored outta your mind. You need savin’ from these guys or what?”
Danny froze mid-sip, beer bottle hoverin’. “Whoa—back the fuck up.” His grin slowly stretched. “Rox flirtin’ now? Tryna slide in on my boy Harding?”
“Oh, shit,” Matteo drew out with a wide grin, all teeth. “The tri-state tease finally makin’ her move. Walked her ass over here on a mission.” He flicked his ash off to the side, bringing his cigarette to his mouth. “It’s all Harding tonight, huh?”
Ignorin’ them, I threw my gaze at Andrew, cockin' my head.
“What—am I makin’ you nervous? Too shy to speak for yourself?”
Andrew glanced at the guys, hand tightenin’ around his Coke.
“Look, you’re cool. But if this is more than talk… I’ll save you the trouble.” He leveled me with a gaze. “I’m not your guy.”
Shit got so quiet you could hear a car backfire in Hackensack.
I've never taken an L.
Nobody’s ever watched me take a fuckin’ L.
I stood paralyzed in it, not knowin' what the fuck to do.
“GodDAMN,” Danny blurted, smackin’ a palm against Matteo’s chest. “Bro hit the queen with the ‘I’m not your guy’ like he was holdin’ the door open for her on her way out.”
Matteo froze, mouth hung open. “Yo, that shit was gentle.”
I blinked, swearin’ I misheard him.
Andrew was already over it, eyes cuttin’ back to the guy with the Strat.
A short laugh left me, and I nodded. “Wow. Heard you had a reputation. Guess it checks out.” My hand dropped to my hip, nails diggin’ in to scratch off the rejection. “Don’t even know what to do with yourself when someone outta your league talks to you.”
"OHHH!" the guys dragged out, fists to their mouths.
Andrew side-eyed me, his brow liftin’.
“Hey now—Harding’s a good guy,” Frankie jumped in through his fadin' laugh. “Don’t go roastin’ him, Rox. Bro’s just out here still lookin’ for the one.”
My eyes sliced into Andrew, no play left in them. I gave him a once-over. “Bet you’re not even good in bed.”