Possessive Best Friend

And finally take what I’ve wanted for so fucking long.

I don’t know why I held back when I was younger. Maybe I was just stupid, or maybe I just wasn’t ready.

But I’m older and wiser now. I know when I want something, I need to have it, no matter what. That’s the only way to get ahead in this world.

And after seeing Lora last night, I want her.3LoraI’ve never been more nervous or more excited for something in my life. Right at three, I’m outside and down at the end of our stupidly long driveway. I don’t want to make Dean have to ring the bell and talk to Archie, who will inevitably tell my parents that I’m seeing a local boy, and that’s a whole thing.

Better to keep the butler out of the loop.

I lean up against the fence and look at my phone. Two minutes past three, a truck comes rolling up and parks right in front of me.

I frown at the thing. It’s red, rusty, and the engine smells like gasoline. There are mud stains on the tires and two hubcaps are missing. Unless there are just no hubcaps, I can’t tell from my angle. I’m honestly surprised it can even move, let alone move at a normal speed.

The window closest to me rolls down and Dean leans over the passenger seat. “Hey, girl,” he says. “You need a ride?”

I frown. “In that piece of crap? No thanks. I’m waiting for a nice, handsome boy to come get me.”

He laughs. “Well, he’s here, and he’s offended that you don’t love his truck.”

I walk over and tilt my head. “I thought your dad owned a car dealership.”

“Ah, yeah, we do. This is my off-roading truck.”

I frown. “What?”

“Get inside. I’ll explain on the way.”

I hesitate. I think I should turn around and run back inside. I’m a rich girl from a nice family. I don’t go off-roading.

But Dean’s handsome smile and the idea of spending time with him makes me rip open the door and jump inside.

He laughs as I shut the door and the truck lurches forward.

“Seriously, what is this thing?”

“It’s an old Ford,” he says. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Engine’s in good shape. Probably needs new tires, but all in all, she looks worse than she drives.”

“She?”

“Her name is Lucille.”

“Oh, god. You named your beat-up truck.”

“I did indeed. Lucille is a good truck name.”

“How’d you come up with it?”

“BB King’s guitar is named Lucille. This truck is an homage to that guitar.”

I laugh and watch him for a second. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You named your truck after a guitar? It’s just inanimate objects all the way down?”

“Yep, that about sums it up.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Glad to see you haven’t changed.” Dean always had a weird little sense of humor that most people didn’t get into, but I loved it from the first time we met. Even his dad jokes are still somehow funny to me.

We drive away from town and pull down a few back roads. “Where are you taking me?” I ask.

“There’s this spot, it’s really good for off-roading,” he says.

“We’re doing… what?”

“We’re driving my truck through mud and dirt.” He grins and hits the gas. The truck lurches forward. “It’s actually a lot of fun.”

I gape at him. “Since when did you get so country?”

“I’ve always been country, girl. You just weren’t looking.”

I roll my eyes. “Please, Dean. We went to the same private prep school.”

“I only went there because your family paid for my tuition.”

“Yeah, but—”

He shakes his head. “No, I get you. I mean, I did have better grades, right?”

“You were a nerd,” I say, smiling. “You just studied all the time.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. We take a right turn off the main road and go down a bumpy dirt path. I’m not sure if we’re off-roading yet or not, but it’s not all that fun, really.

“I had to work harder,” he said. “You know I didn’t belong there.”

“What do you mean?”

“My dad is… you know, he’s middle class. Maybe upper middle class now, but not back then.”

“So what? There were plenty of scholarship students.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Exactly,” he says. “You knew who those scholarship kids were, right? Because we were different.”

I’m quiet for a long moment. “I never thought about it before,” I admit.

“I know you didn’t,” he says. “That’s because you never cared about that stuff. You’re one of the good ones, Lora. But not everyone at West was like you.”

“Nobody bullied you though, right?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. I would’ve beaten some douchey prep school ass if they’d tried.”

I laugh. “You weren’t so big and bad back then, you know.”

“I know,” he admits. “But even still. Can you imagine someone like Valtteri Haldeman trying to push me around?”