Bradford Bastard (Bradford Bastard 1)

Familiar faces linger around the house, and out in the garden, some poor girl is already throwing up in the bushes. Rookie error. If you want to drink and have a good night, then you can’t hit it hard too fast. You need to know your sweet spot, need to know how much you can have before you start acting like a fucking idiot and embarrassing yourself. For me, it’s four shots and five raspberry Cruisers. After that, I end up wearing someone else’s bra, stealing watches, and sleeping in Harden Tully’s mom’s freshly planted garden while snuggling a gnome with his pants down.

Erica’s arm loops through mine and together we step through the open door. Bodies fill every available space as the smell of sweat, alcohol, and stale cigarettes linger in the air.

It’s dark inside and nearly impossible to see where we’re going. If it weren’t for the cheap fairy lights strung from the ceilings, we’d be up shit creek without a paddle. The bare minimum effort was put forward for tonight’s party, but I didn’t expect much else. Around here, all you need are four walls and a bathroom to throw a party.

Erica’s excitement is contagious as she drags me through the front part of the house, squeezing past dancing bodies and trying to ignore the couple who have barricaded themselves up against the wall, trying to be discreet about the girl’s hand down the front of his pants.

We barely get a few feet into the living room when a loud, piercing sound cracks through the room. “RICCA!”

“Oh, fuck,” Erica says, her eyes going wide, trying to find the face through the crowd that belongs to that voice.

There’s only one person around here who calls her Ricca and despite Erica’s attempts to get her to stop, it just seems to keep happening. She hates it, and I hate it simply on principle, simply because I can’t stand the vile creature who decided it was a thing.

Jordy Fucking Livingston.

The bane of my existence pushes her way through the crowd, practically demanding a path to clear for her. She’s the kind of girl who believes a crown belongs on her head. Her opinion of herself is outrageous while the rest of the world spends their time dodging her presence in the hopes of just a mere moment of peace.

Jordy is vile and mean and lives off the excitement of exposing others’ secrets—the darker the better. When she’s coming for you, the only thing you should do is run.

Erica and I have made it our sole obsession to avoid Jordy, and so far, we’ve been doing an alright job of it, until now. I suppose I couldn’t get out of Hope Falls without falling victim to her bullshit one more time. It’s almost like a rite of passage. Once someone has suffered at the hands of Jordy Livingston and made it out alive, they may forever more be dubbed with the title of badass, motherfucking survivor bitch.

Jordy barrels toward us, and before we get a chance to fade into the crowd, she’s right there, throwing her arms wide and slamming into Erica’s chest as though she were her best friend. She gives Erica a tight squeeze. “Ohemgee,” she squeals, reminding me far too much of the rich girls from Bradford. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

My brows furrow as I watch the scene unfold before me. There are a lot of things I can handle, but Jordy Livingston creeping on my best friend ain’t one of them. Jordy refuses to release Erica from her clutches, and as Erica meets my stare over Jordy’s shoulder, her expression tells me everything I need to know—this feeling definitely isn’t mutual, and no matter how much she tries to poach my best friend while I’ve been away, nothing is going to change.

Erica puts her hands up between them and shoves against Jordy’s shoulders, pushing her away. “Ummm … what the hell was that?” she asks, the disgust loud and clear on her face.

Jordy laughs it off as though it’s some kind of secret between friends. “Oh, girl. You’re too cute,” she says, hovering close to Erica before glancing toward me, her expression faltering. “Oh,” she sighs. “You’re here.”

“Well, someone has to be here to keep the vultures away.”

Jordy rolls her eyes. “Don’t you have a whole new pool of cocks to be sucking? We don’t want you here.”

A smirk pulls at my lips. If this bitch wants to throw down and start firing insults, then I’m all in. “You’re right, but would you believe that after only one week, I’ve already sucked off every last one of them. You know these bruises on my knees aren’t from praying.” I pause, watching as she scoffs and rolls her eyes before glancing toward Erica as if she’s about to back her up, only to get a scowl in return. “What about you? Found anyone to dust out those cobwebs? You know the way I hear it, Colby is more than available. I know how you like to go after my dirty leftovers.”