There was something about him that drew women in. Maybe the edge to his personality. Maybe the fact that he always looked like he had just got out of a caged fight, and was more than capable of coming out the winner of any fight.
I don’t know what it is, but women just love him.
I was not one of those women. Sure, I had wondered why he bothered attending school and sure, I had wondered how he kept his body in such great shape.
But, never once had I asked either question.
Nor would I ever.
Because, when it came to him, I wanted nothing to do with him. He knowing my brothers only made me want to stay away from him more.
I walked down the stairs quickly, passed him, and walked through the open front doors.
“Wait up!’ he yelled behind me.
Did he honestly expect me to ride with him?
Was he that stupid?
Surely not.
“You coming with me or not?” he snapped.
Yep, he was that stupid.
I turned to glare at him. Why I felt so much rage towards him I didn’t know.
“I would rather ride the bus with the junkies, than get in a car with you,” I continued to walk up the drive way.
“Whatever, don’t complain to me if you catch something,” he yelled after me.
“Complain to you? Fuck, I don’t even want to talk to you,” I snapped over my shoulder.
I heard his car door slam, and, then, within a few seconds, I could hear him approaching me.
He drove through a puddle close to me, deliberately I’m sure, and splashed water up my legs.
I glared at the back of his Hummer.
I picked up a rock from the ground and threw it in the direction of his car, missing it by centimeters.
I groaned to myself as I walked up our long drive way.
Why me?
And what the hell was with my aim? I really needed to go for some target practice. If Blake even thought for a second my aim was off, well, he would be pulling me from jobs.
He expected me to always be in control. He expected me to always have his back, which meant I had to be able to shoot straight, and right now I couldn’t even throw something straight.
I groaned. Not only did I have to get a bus, but I was more than positive I would have to spend more time at the shooting range.
***
I glanced up at the clock. I was about 45 minutes late for class.
Stupid bus. Never runs on time.
On the up side though, I had missed forty five minutes of Mr Wood’s class, which meant less time with that pinhead, Jackson Johnston.