Page 20 of Illicit

Maybe he’s asleep.

But if Mom is going to order pizza, I need to get this done. “I’m Teagan.”

His bandaged arm moves so he can glare up at me through squinted eyes. “What do you want?”

I should ask him if he likes pepperoni or cheese, because that’s all I like, and I’m hungry. Instead, I ask what I really want to know. “What happened to your arm?”

He holds it up in the air and studies the bandage that goes from his elbow all the way to his hand where it threads between his thumb and fingers. “I was taken by the president of my old MC, and he burned my tattoo off with a blow torch.”

It’s all I can do to keep my jaw from hanging open. “Like … fire?”

He looks at me like I’m not the best reader in my class when I am. “That is the definition of a blow torch.”

Despite the temperature of the pavement, I fold at the knees and sit crisscross next to him. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s a third-degree burn. Yeah, it fucking hurts.”

The only time I hear anyone say the F-word is on the school bus. I bite my lip and try not to giggle.

“That’s funny?” he bites.

I shake my head immediately. “No. No way. Sorry, it’s just that my parents don’t allow bad words in our house.”

He looks back up to the sky and mutters, “It’s not like I asked to be here. The MC is a no-go.” He motions to his bandaged arm. “And even though Brax lied to me for months, for some reason I can’t say no to Landyn, so I moved my ass across the country. They’re bouncing me around like a foster kid. I’ve avoided the foster system my entire life, but when I’m finally an adult, someone thinks they give a shit about me. As soon as I get a job, I’m out of here.”

I can’t take my eyes off him. I’ve never met anyone like him before. What I don’t tell him is that I know his parents are dead or what a grump Sammie was about him. “My mom said you’d be here until you start college.”

He shakes his head without looking over at me. “The only reason I agreed to college is because it includes a roof over my head and a meal ticket. I’ll sit in a miserable classroom and catch a ball if it means free food and a bed.”

I want to ask him what happened to his parents, but that’s rude. I’m not like Sammie. But since I ask a lot of questions in general because I’m nosy, I ask, “What’s an MC?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you serious? A motorcycle club. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t know. I haven’t even been here for a full day and can tell you have no idea what the real world looks like.”

“I sort of know what the real world is like. My dad puts drug dealers in prison. I might not be allowed to curse or know anyone in a motorcycle club, but my parents warn me about everything.” My parents do warn us about everything except motorcycle clubs. But if they gave Rocco a third-degree burn with a blow torch, I assume it’s bad.

Like, bad-bad-bad.

“Teagan Coleman.” Rocco mutters my name and closes his eyes as he turns his face back to the sun. “A little girl who knows the ways of the world. Well, I promise not to be a bad influence and corrupt you with my shitty life.”

I bring my thumb up to bite my nail and glance back at the house. My heartbeat skips a beat when I try the word out on my lips for the first time. “The only thing shitty about my life is my grumpy older sister.”

That gets his attention.

His eyes snap open and he looks over at me with a glare. “Thought you weren’t supposed to cuss, little girl.”

I shrug. “I’m not so little. I’m starting middle school this year.”

He shakes his head. “Why are you talking to me? Don’t you have an entire wardrobe to unpack? Dolls and shit?”

I shake my head. “I don’t play with dolls or toys. I read books. And they’re already unpacked. It’s the first thing I did when the movers brought my stuff to my room this morning. I love my books.”

“Great.” Rocco spits that word like he’s half-mad and half-tired. But I was up for hours before he came out of the guest room—he shouldn’t be tired. “I should’ve known Brax would move me in with a bunch of brainiacs. I can’t get out of here fast enough.”

“Don’t leave too fast. Mom’s ordering pizza.”

“I’m fucking starving,” he says. “But then again, I’m always hungry.”

“I’m supposed to ask you what you like.”

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