Page 41 of Wicked Nasty

I quickly retreat back into the shadows before she spots me. But it's too late. The moment our eyes meet, her expression hardens into a glare that could cut steel. The trucker also turns his fierce gaze towards me, clearly ready to defend Becca at all costs. And suddenly, all eyes in the room are on me - judging, glaring, and questioning why I'm here and what I want from Becca.

I turn around and leave without saying a word. The weight of their collective glares burning into my back as I walk away.

As I sit in my car, my mind racing with confusion and fear, the door suddenly swings open. That burly trucker looms over me, his eyes blazing with anger. Before I can react, he shoves me back into my seat.

"You stay away from Becca," he growls through gritted teeth. I try to speak, but he cuts me off. "Shut your fucking mouth. That girl is already hurting, and she doesn't need your mind games on top of it."

With a final slam of my door, he stalks off, leaving me reeling and trying to make sense of what just happened. But before I can even begin to process, there's a knock on my window. It's Becca. I open my door and she steps right up to me.

"Why were you following me?" she demands.

My heart races as I try to come up with an answer. "You skipped class.”

Becca scoffs. "Yeah, so what?"

"We have to work on the project together."

She rolls her eyes, clearly upset. "That doesn't give you the right to stalk me."

Frustration and anger bubble up inside me. “We need to talk about last night.”

But Becca shuts me down immediately. "I don't want to talk about it. It happened, whatever. Happy fucking birthday to me, right?"

Now I'm even more confused and angry. "What? What the fuck does that mean?"

Becca's voice turns cold as ice. "It was my fucking eighteenth birthday yesterday, you fucking idiot. But don't worry, I'll never let that happen again."

Without thinking, I reach out to grab her arm. "Becca, that's not-"

But she yanks her arm away and slams the door shut before storming off into the distance, leaving me alone with my swirling emotions and unanswered questions.

Frantic thoughts race through my mind.

Fuck, fuck!

I reach for my phone and call Ryan, hoping he can help me out of this mess.

"You home, bro?" I ask, as the call is connected.

"Yeah, come through," Ryan's voice comes through the speaker.

I quickly drive to his house, feeling nervous and unsure of what to expect.

As I walk into his living room, I see Ryan sitting with Ally, and wince, knowing I interrupted something.

"Uhhh, hey."

Ally stands and looks at Ryan before glancing over at me. "Nice to see you." She turns and walks out, leaving Ryan and me alone.

"So...?" I trail off, unsure of where to begin.

Ryan looks at me with concern in his eyes. "She was upset."

"Gotcha," I respond, sinking onto the couch and reaching for the joint Ryan has already rolled.

"I fucked Becca last night. It was... I think I made a mistake," I confess, taking a drag from the joint and exhaling slowly. "One minute we were fighting, the next thing I know, I'm shoving my dick down her throat like an asshole."

Ryan's expression turns serious. "Did you... force her?"

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