Break Me (Brayshaw High 5)

“What’s wrong?”

I swear he tenses though he hides it well, and I know the girls’ heads have snapped this way, but I don’t look. I stare at the boy in the back.

The tiniest of creases frame his eyes when I’m positive he tries for blank and bleak. “Not a damn thing.”

“Liar.”

Silence.

A long, creepy beat of it.

Royce licks his lips and looks away.

I face forward. “Who’s SUV is this one?”

Raven studies me. “It’s Pacman’s, why?”

Pacman must be Captain considering her hand fell on his shoulder as she said it.

He meets my eyes in the mirror.

“Are you finicky about your car?”

He gives a slow shake of his head, his smirk returning to the road. “Go for it, Bishop.”

Awe, look. He gets it.

I unbuckle and climb into the back row, plopping down right beside Royce and refasten my seat belt.

I look up, meeting Royce’s frown, and reach past him.

He trails my hand over his shoulder and past his neck. I grab his seat belt, tug it over his body and click it into place.

I smile. “Playboys should always wrap it up, right?”

His side grin’s so wide it has his lips parting, he flashes a hint of his perfect whites, but he faces forward, unwilling to give it to me completely. His hand lifts to help wipe it away and he kicks a leg out a little farther.

It’s the perfect reaction really, because he’s settling into the seat more, his frown officially turned upside down.

Objective met.

A raspy chuckle slips from Raven in the front seat, and when I face forward, she meets my eyes.

She nods and faces forward.

Later that morning, when I walk into my second period class, the teacher hands me a summer school ballot, the first class listed to start six weeks from now, check marked, and circled in red?

Swimming.

I smile, an unexpected warmth blooming in my chest, sign where the highlighted section tells me to, and hand it back.

I make my way to my seat, a sigh escaping as I take it.

The light Maybell was talking about, a sliver of it shines through, and not for the first time, and it has everything to do with the stubborn, bighearted, Brayshaw.

Thank you, Playboy.Chapter 18RoyceBrielle steps around the corner of the living room and into the kitchen, squinting when she spots me standing outside the screen door.

I wait for her to reach me, shove the thing open and come outside, but she doesn’t. She wraps her hand around the frame and pokes her head out, the rest of her still tucked inside.

“What are you doing here?”

What am I doing here?

That’s what she comes at me with?

For real?

My face must give me away because she laughs and slips the rest of the way onto the porch. “I only meant I didn’t expect to see you after school. I mean, I didn’t expect to see you this morning either, after you ditched me in the pool last night and—”

“I get it.”

She laughs again and fuck, man. I shouldn’t be here.

Why am I here?

I don’t realize I’m walking backward until suddenly she’s eye level.

She has no makeup on today, and there’s no sign of puffiness on her face, which is good.

I like her face like this, clear and smooth.

Nothing but her.

I kinda like her.

Wait, no. Not like her like her, but I like her.

I mean, she’s what I like.

Wait! No.

I mean she’s cool, as in not annoying.

She’s a pain in my ass but not the kind I want to run over with my 22’s.

The kind I want to do naughty ass things to.

WHOA.

Bro... chill.

“Where you going?” she asks.

My eyes dart up to hers.

Virgin.

“What?”

She fights a smile, and I notice I’m standing in the dirt in a brand-new pair of Nike throwbacks.

For real? Now I’m a full three feet from the porch steps?

Fuck this.

I shake my shoulders out and make a mental note to ask Maybell about that shoe cleaner she uses.

“Put a suit on. I’ll wait.”

Her brows lift. “Like a blazer?”

“Like a swimsuit.”

“Now?”

“I said I’ll wait.” I frown, turn away, and head back for my ride.

The girl laughs her way back into the house.

She’s buckling into the passenger seat and we’re pulling away from the property within five minutes.

“So, where we going?” She pulls a bottle of lotion from her bag, and squirts some in her hand.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

In my peripheral, her palms flatten against her thighs and start to rub.

I squeeze the wheel a little tighter, my dick twitching in my trunks.

Fuck, man, what am I, twelve?!

She’s putting lotion on. And? Who cares!

I’m not even looking, touching or rubbing and the hot dog printed over my groin is about to be a jumbo dog.

“Royce.”

My head snaps her way.

She tilts hers. “You okay?”

I quickly focus on the road. “Huh. Yeah. I’m good. Fine. Put that shit away, yeah?” I jerk my chin toward her.