My jaw clenched. It wasn’t that she was kissing someone—wait—nah, fuck that. It was definitely because she was kissing someone.
“What are you gonna do about it?” Ari asked from my bed.
Well, it wasn’t my bed per se, but it would be once I turned eighteen. I couldn’t fucking wait to patch in and live at the compound, and I only had three more months until it happened.
I stood, stretching my arms above my head before swiping the keys to my bike off the dresser and shoving them into my pocket. I grinned at him over my shoulder.
“Something I probably should have done a long fucking time ago…”
I knew what I wanted. Fuck, I always did. Even in the back of my mind, the dark and dirty part of it that knew I had a girlfriend, but I didn’t care, because the fact was, she and I weren’t good people. We needed that shot of toxicity that sleeping together gave us. We knew it wouldn’t ruin our friendship if we just fucked around, but when relationships come into play… neither of us were ready for that, and probably won’t ever be, so we gave ourselves the next best thing. Sex so fucking destructive that we didn’t care who it destroyed as collateral.
All I could see was Meraki in Luca’s fucking arms. Meraki was blinded by Luca. I mean, I couldn’t blame her; we all were at some point. But there had always been something there that was off. I couldn’t peg it. I couldn’t fucking raise the issue of it either, because I’d just look like a jealous best friend that no longer wanted to share with a third wheel. But I knew. I knew there was something off, and I’d be fucking damned if I let her make the worst decision of her life tonight—with him. Because besides the fact that we needed each other like a crackhead did ice, the jealousy and games always came with that same potent allure.
I fired up my bike and inhaled the sound of the rumbling Dyno engine from between my legs before shoving on my helmet and pulling out of the drive. Getting to the river wasn’t an issue. It was hoping that my mom didn’t see me riding. She wasn’t a fan. Even though she knew I bled oil, she always wanted both Ari and me to go to college first, I think. Never knew why. She was in the club for years, but she had always been persistent with us either going back to New Zealand or to Greece. Ari and I weren’t interested in either. We loved our heritage, but America was home.
My bike was fucking loud. Anyone within a one-mile radius would for sure hear the signature sound of hot pipes, and everyone fucking knew it was me. I didn’t wear a patch yet, but the whole town didn’t need me to wear one to know that if they fucked with me, they’d fucked with the club.
Luca included.
I killed the engine and sat for a few seconds, searching through the crowded area to find Meraki and Luca. There was a raging fire burning on the sand, where people from school sat around on large chunks of driftwood. The music was fucking lame, but it always was at these things. I saw her behind the flames, sitting beneath Luca’s arm. He had a shit-eating grin on his face, but Mer looked numb. She had an uncanny way of hiding emotions beneath a blank expression, and I only knew because I knew her. Meraki was by far the most beautiful girl you would ever see, and I meant that. She had the softest olive skin that somehow always glistened, even beneath thunderstorms. Her smile lit up the darkest of rooms, with her straight white teeth and the cute little dimples in each cheek. Then there were her eyes… I could get lost in them for fucking hours and be completely fine with not saying a single word. The brilliant shade of damp moss that demanded to grow from neglected bark, lined with the feathered eyelashes that were as dark as her hair. Her body was full of life, her ass curving in a way that rock stars wrote songs about, and the ends of her hair had a natural wave that no matter how much she brushed, it would never flatten out. The razor cut ends almost bounced right off her ass.
Before I could stop myself, my feet were carrying me to where she and Luca sat on a long piece of wood. They both knew I was here. They would have heard me over the shitty sound of Marilyn Manson, but even if they didn’t, the people who stopped and watched me get off my bike would have been a giveaway.