[Sequel to The Merciless Black List Of Highland High]
Secrets and lies.
The very flesh and bone of the infamous Shameless Foursome guys.
Collin Adamms, the supposed creator of The Shameless Virginity Games, knows what it's like to make mistakes t...
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18 |
before that happens
"Don't be a dick."
Is the first actual sentence I tell Bishop. Maybe not the most appropriate thing to say but I can't help it. It's apparent he's still trying to grasp the situation in front of him, and I don't blame him for that in the slightest, but the look he's giving me . . . fuck, that just doesn't sit well with me. "I didn't get her drunk. I just brought her here, despite whatever you might think, because I didn't know where else to take her."
Still perplexed, he blinks, the suspicion slowly retreating from his eyes as he steps to the side to let me inside the house. "Who did then? Get her drunk, I mean."
His tone is not accusative, but it's not exactly friendly either. I get it. He has some fucked up issue with me, one that he's refusing to talk about, and yeah, I might have crawled to him because I wanted him to hook me up with my usual before, which almost ended up in a fight, but I'm not here on my account tonight.
"I don't know," is the only truthful piece of information I can offer him. Granted, I've had some time to think it over in the taxi, and I might have my own suspicions but that doesn't mean I'm sharing any of them with him.
He doesn't look too convinced, but honestly? I don't give a fuck whether he believes me or not. The only thing I want from him right now is to tell me where to put Aspen so I can finally get her off my back. She's not immensely heavy, but cutting with competitive swimming and several trainings a week sure left its mark on me. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I'm pretty fucking sure I wouldn't stand a chance even against some of the freshmen if I were to dive back into the pool one of these days.
"Could you, uh," I start, grunting when Aspen shifts against my back, her grip around my neck tightening, "show me where to put her or something?" because Bishop is apparently not about to make the move on his own.
"I can take it from here," he says, straightening up his muscular body.
I know I should push him but my damn pride just won't let me hand him Aspen on a silver platter and carelessly walk away. "It's not a big deal, Bishop. Just show me where to put her."
A part of me expects him to put up more of a fight, but perhaps he thinks better of it, because exhaling audibly, he closes the door behind him and heads for the stairs. "You can put her in my room."
I follow him up, fucking glad we're finally moving, when I sense something wet soaking the material of my shirt. Turning my head slightly, I squint in the darkness and see the splotch doting my jacket in the area of my left shoulder where Aspen's head is positioned. Yep. She just fucking drooled on me. Soaking her saliva through both -- my jacket and my shirt.
I'm not mad though. As long as it's not her vomit that's soaking me through, she can literally drool all over me.
I've never been to Bishop's room before, because visiting each other is something friends do, and we've definitely never fallen into that category, despite our business relations. It's pretty small, compared to my room at my father's house, and I'm surprised to find Sarah lying on the airbed that's taking up nearly the entire floor.
