Page 32 of The Sun
She was never going to give up. “Fine,” I said on my way through the exit that had “Hammerhead Pride” painted above the doorway.
Elias and his brothers were in the parking lot. Smoking. A group of girls circled them like a pack of giggling hyenas. I bit at my lip when Elias glanced in my direction, determined to hold his stare. He squinted when he lifted a cigarette to his mouth and took a deep drag. I’d always found smoking repulsive—until I saw him do it. The smoke seemed to crawl through his lips like a belly dancer, teasing and taunting. The bad-boy look on Elias was undeniably, thigh-clenchingly sexy.
“Earth to Sunny,” Daisy said. “Are you gonna just stand there or get in the car?”
I broke the stare and climbed in just as Daisy settled behind the wheel, pulling her hair into a ponytail. “Why do you look sunburned?”
“It’s just. . .hot,” I said, cranking the AC up to full blast.
It was too hot.
Later that night,I found myself closer than I wanted to Brandon McClure in one of the rickety booths of Captain Ahab’s, a crappy seafood restaurant that reeked of grease and crab legs.
This craphole was popular since every Friday a local band played live music, and underagers didn’t get a big, fatXmarked across the back of their hands.
Daisy was all smiles being on dates with football players.
In her mind, this rendezvous would slingshot us up the social ladder. I had no intentions of being slingshot anywhere, and besides, her date was a known virginity collector. I took this little excursion at face value. Ben wanted another specimen to add to his pinup board, and he had just brought Brandon along for the ride—just like Daisy had me.
The waitress came by to clear the table and then placed a pitcher of beer in the middle. Brandon poured drinks.
When he passed one to me, I just stared at it. “It’s okay. I’m DD,” he said.
By the time Daisy and Ben had chugged half of their drinks, I still hadn’t touched mine.
“What,” Brandon laughed. “Don’t tell me you don’t drink?”
“Beer tastes like week-old piss.”
“She likes vodka,” Daisy said, reaching for the pitcher to pour herself another.
Brandon grinned, dimples popping. “So, you aren’t as innocent as you look then.”
“I’m not screwing you if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Hey!” Brandon held up his hands, palms out. “I wasn’t suggesting that.”
I deadpanned him. “You’re a guy.”
“Sunny!” Daisy gave me a stern look. “Stop being. . .you.”
I flipped the bird to everyone at that table.
“Watch out, McClure. You got a live one.” Ben placed his arm around Daisy, then whispered something in her ear that caused her cheeks to blush, even underneath the pound of foundation she wore.
I knew Daisy better than anyone, and she was the epitome of a hopeless romantic. I was ninety-five percent sure she was planning their wedding at that very second.
Ben—aside from his sexual conquest and his appreciation of beer—was a good guy. And that was the problem.
Girls expect the bad boy to break their heart which is why we don’t let them into anything more than our shirts or beds. It’s the good ones like Ben and Brandon and the person Eliasused to bewho are dangerous because you trust them.
You invite the Trojan horse right through the walls of your heart, and once someone gets in, there’s no salvaging the havoc they’ll eventually reek.
Within an hour,the pitcher was empty, and Daisy had taken it upon herself to finish the beer I had never touched while Brandon and Ben had gone to the front to pay.
“He’s so hot,” she slurred. Her cheeks flushed, and her hair was a mess. “I’m going to screw him.” She gave a curt nod before grabbing my empty glass, turning it up, and patting the bottom in a desperate bid to savor any remaining alcohol.
“Donotsleep with him!” I snatched the glass from her hand and placed it at the end of the table.
