Bad Habit (Bad Love 1)

As we get closer, I notice a huge gate surrounding the perimeter of the building. I reach the entrance and tug on the padlock.

“Guess they’re cracking down.”

“That’s always locked. This way, amateur,” Jackson says, peeling back a break in the chain link fence. “Everyone else is already inside. We just came out to get you guys.”

Nat giggles, totally getting off on this creepy shit, skips over to where he’s crouched, and slips through the hole. I hand my beer to Brett and follow her, but my belt loop gets stuck on a rogue piece of metal protruding from the fence. A warm hand lands on the small of my back, and my head snaps around.

“You’re stuck,” Jackson smirks and gives an innocent shrug. I’m on my knees, halfway through the fence with my ass on display, but Jackson holds my gaze as he reaches to free my belt loop with his fingertip. I wonder if he’s thinking of that night. Does he regret it? Does he know I do? Not that it was his fault. I was on a mission to self-destruct that night, and I was lucky I ended up with someone halfway decent.

“Thanks.” I’m not really sure what to say, or how to feel. I have a tendency to overanalyze things, so it’s probably best that I don’t try to decipher anything just yet. I stand up and brush the dirt off my knees and tighten the mess on my head. Brett passes me my beer and shoves his way through while Jackson opts to scale the fence like a fucking ninja. He lands in front of my feet, looking smug as hell, and I arch a brow in return.

“Am I supposed to be impressed or something?”

“Only if you don’t want to wound my precious ego,” Jackson says, clapping a hand to his heart dramatically. He really is gorgeous—in that all-American, golden boy way—with his light brown hair, high cheekbones, and strong jaw. He’s tall and broad and clearly doesn’t take himself too seriously. Maybe I misjudged him.

As we all approach the massive, formidable building, nerves and excitement tangle in my stomach, and the baby hairs stand up on the back of my neck. The hot August air is suffocating, and a bead of sweat rolls down the small of my back. I head for the rusty, decayed turnstile, but stop short when I notice the razor wire coiled in the old entrance. Jackson hooks an arm around my shoulders and jerks his head to the right with that Ken-doll smile. He leads us to a different gate, this one with vertical bars. At first, I’m confused as to why we’re going this way, but then I notice that one of the bars has been pried apart, leaving enough room to squeeze through. Razor wire and double fences…makes you wonder what happened here and why they’re so determined to keep people out.

Before I can ask how we’re getting inside the building, Brett darts toward a ditch with steep walls. He skids down the sides like he’s surfing on concrete, and Nat—never one to give a shit about consequences—downs her beer, then slides down on her butt after him.

“Nuh-uh.” I shake my head when Jackson looks to me expectantly.

“Mhm.” He grins.

“Nope. No fucking way. I’m wearing shorts!”

“I guess I’ll just have to carry you then.”

“You wouldn’t.” I call his bluff, backing away slowly.

Nat yells something along the lines of, “Just do it, you stupid jock!” before slipping through the gap and disappearing into the abandoned building.

Jackson charges for me and I screech, losing my grip on my beer when he drops a shoulder and scoops me up over it. One arm bands around the back of my thighs, and he chuckles when I grip his waist for dear life. I know what’s coming next. Jackson effortlessly skids down the side of the ditch, his white Nikes crunching over the loose dirt and gravel.

“Don’t mess up your pretty shoes, golden boy.”

“Brave words from a girl who’s at my mercy.”

Instead of putting me down, he carries me inside the narrow opening. I’m hanging upside down, and that, coupled with the fact that it’s dark as hell, makes it hard to see much except beer cans littering the concrete floor and an endless amount of graffiti splashed on every surface. I hear muffled voices and laughter, so I know we’re getting closer.

“You can put me down now,” I say, using my hands ag

ainst his lower back as leverage to swing myself upwards. But Jackson’s grip on my thighs only tightens.

“Why would I do that when I have such a nice view?” He smacks my ass, and a laugh tumbles from my lips. I don’t even know if I like Jackson, but it feels…liberating. Like I’m finally starting to break free of the curse Asher unknowingly cast upon me the day he left. Or maybe it was the day he landed at my feet on my brother’s bedroom floor. But my freedom is short-lived, because mid-laugh, I hear an all-too familiar voice.

“What the fuck.”

Dash. He’s here? Jackson finally sets me on my feet, and I right myself just in time to see my brother storming toward us, looking positively murderous.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, tucking my hair behind my ear, aiming for casual.

“You wanna tell me why you just had your hands all over my baby sister’s ass?” Dash asks, ignoring my question, shooting daggers at Jackson over my head.

“Whoa, dude. You have a sister?” Jackson throws his hands up in surrender. “I swear I didn’t know.”

I scrunch my nose at that. Everyone knows Dash, and I mean everyone. In fact, I’m known as “Dash’s little sister” to most people. But why would he lie?

“You didn’t know, or you didn’t realize I’d be here?”