The lights are still dim, and amongst the crowd, Jess is leaning against the wall with a beer in hand again. The envy in his eyes intensifies the moment Drew pulls me onto the dance floor. Our bodies jerk forward almost banging into each other, and Drew purposely places his hands on my naked lower back with a tight grip. I want to tell him to stop, but something reminds me I’ve created this monster myself.
Drew brushes his lips against the base of my neck until he reaches the bottom of my earlobe. Gently nibbling, he’s once again stirring something inside of me despite our argument outside.
“I don’t play fair, Zoey,” he says in a hushed tone, confidently holding on to me like I belong to him and only him. “You want a war? You’ve got one.”
Chapter Twelve
Drew
When I was twelve years old, my dad and I entered a go-kart-building competition. You designed your own go-kart, and the fastest one to the end won. It was the biggest thing to happen in our small town, and being my dad was mechanical-minded, I had every bit of confidence we would win. Weekends and countless hours were spent perfecting this kart, making sure it would be crowned a winner.
I was up against a kid named Jed. Jed was the town bully and, of course, talked his mouth off about winning the competition. His dad was some hotshot lawyer, and although his kart had all the bells and whistles, mine had the steady engineering.
The morning of the race, Jed approached me. He was an overly confident kid who used his manipulation to his advantage.
“Nice kart, Baldwin. Your mom help you build that?”
The idiot knew I didn’t have a mom, but I didn’t let him get to me. I was that confident we would win. My dad was the best mechanic in town. Well, the only mechanic in town.
“Good luck, Jed,” I mumbled.
“I don’t need luck. I’m going to win. You and your dad are losers.”
It was one thing to mention my mom, who was no longer with us, but my dad, you didn’t say shit about my dad.
I was determined to win.
I had to win.
The race was ready to begin, and I remember my dad’s words as clear as day, “Son, you’ve got every chance of winning. But life doesn’t also end up with a win. Try your best, and that’s all you can do.”
I lost the race that day. Jed’s dad had paid some engineer to build his go-kart and won but was eventually stripped of his title as State Champ. But that race taught me a big lesson—I didn’t want the Jeds of the world to win.
And today is no different.
Zoey is the trophy.
There’s no question my jealousy has been climbing by the minute, and attempting to curb it with some champagne seemed like a good idea at the time. I should have known better. When does alcohol ever solve the problem? And despite my medical knowledge of how damaging drinking is to your liver, I ignored any sense of reason and drank the entire bottle.
I go outside to call my dad and ask him to pick my car up. I can’t drive like this, plus I need some alone time to make sense of everything that happened inside. There’s something about that jerk which rubs me the wrong way, and even more so, I can’t understand why Zoey’s becoming obsessed with getting him back.
It’s not long before Zoey finds me chatting with some random chick I could have scored with in the bushes somewhere. She would have been a five-minute fix—just not worth my time—to be frank. I’m simply not in the mood.
Whatever her name is, she quickly disappears when Zoey places her hands all over me pretending to be my girlfriend. It catches me by surprise. Kissing her does something to me—something I’ve never experienced before. The kisses between us connect with the rest of my body. It’s surreal and unknown. I don’t know what it means, and despite wanting to talk to her about it, it seems like an unmanly thing to do. But much like the calm before the storm, her following words strike a nerve.
This is all for show, and outside there’s no audience.
That’s right, that’s all I’m good for.
She doesn’t look at me that way.
She doesn’t feel the same way I do.
My anger rises to a whole new level dragging her back inside so I can show her ‘audience’ what the fuck I’m all about. I am a man who does not intend to lose despite her having no interest in me.
I lace my hand around the back of her dress making contact with her skin. Running my fingers along the edge of her dress, I pull her closer until her tits are pushed against my chest.
My mouth makes its way onto her neck caressing her skin with a gentle roll of my tongue. She smells divine, like roses and vanilla, and all this other sweet shit I want to eat. Kissing her skin gives me an instant hard-on, one I’m not afraid to let her feel. If she wants that dickhead to believe we’re a couple, then I’m going to make her feel that way.