Page 4 of Grease Monkey
Guess we’re done here, then.
I nod, head spinning, and tug at the zipper of the gray overalls covering my jeans and black t-shirt, letting them pool at my feet and then kicking them up, catching them mid-air. Dad watches as I grab Brittany’s keys, threading my finger through the metal hoop and twirling the pink pompom around. Crossing the small office, I hang my overalls on my designated peg before opening the small locker to grab my phone and wallet, shoving them into my pocket. My hand is on the office door handle, just about to pull it open, when Dad calls my name.
“Teddy?” I turn just as the metallic nail file soars through the air. I catch it and roll it around in my palm. “Don’t be that dickhead who leads girls on and fucks around on them.”
I pocket the file and stare back at my dad. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not fu—”
“I might have had a three-year-old by the time I was your age, but that didn’t stop me from getting out there, Son.” I close my eyes and shudder. The thought of my old man with anyone who is not my mom is... in fact, picturing my dad withanyoneis an image I never want in my brain. When I reopen my eyes, his have darkened as he continues. “But after what Cassandra did, I made sure I never treated anyone the same way. Your mom and I brought you up to be better than that.”
I nod, and suddenly the file in my pocket feels like a lead brick. I tilt my chin and knock against the door, signaling I’m heading out. Dad nods and gets back to work as I pull my phone out and shoot a quick text to the girl I have beenfucking aroundwith for the past few weeks. I need to end it with her. Especially now that it seems like she’s purposely damaging her car to see me. This was never part of the deal.
Me:Your car is ready for drop off. I will be at your place in fifteen, twenty minutes tops.
Brittany:My dad’s home. I’ll come to you. Text me your address so I can show my appreciation for all your hard work.
So maybe one more time won’t hurt.
Chapter Two
Teddy
Thick curls shining in the winter sun capture my attention as soon as I drive onto the street. Bringing the car to a crawl, I roll the window down, shivering as a blast of cold air hits my bare arms, and I let out a long, obnoxious wolf whistle.
“Hey, Ana Banana,” I call out with a laugh as she stumbles at the sound of my voice. She blinks, pushing back the mass of curls from her face.
“That’s not my name, Teddy,” she says, her words surrounded by plumes of white as she tugs her huge scarf tighter around her face. Between that and her hair, I’m surprised she can see where she’s going.
“I know,” I say, smiling when I’m rewarded with a scowl, and she tilts her chin to side-eye me while resuming walking. “But how can I resist when you blush so sweetly whenever I call you it?”
She stops abruptly, and I quickly stomp on the brakes. Putting her hands on her hips, she takes in the obscenely bright pink Evoke.
“Nice wheels,” she deadpans, and I grin, letting my eyes drift over her puffer jacket, hating that it’s winter, because Ana has a banging body hidden under all those layers. She shifts under my stare as I linger on the edges of her skirt that’s poking out from under her coat.
“Nice ass,” I tease.
She glares at me.
There it is.
One look, and my dick’s awake. I move in my seat, her intense gaze heating my blood and filling my head with all sorts of weird teacher-student fantasies. Her bent over a desk, that short, plaited skirt bunched up around her hips, me diving into her tight…
Fucking fuck. What the hell was that? I’ve never thought about her likethatbefore. So maybe I have had some less than PG-13 thoughts about her, but none where we’re actually fucking.
She inhales, her nostrils flaring, jaw tight, then continues walking. I lightly step on the accelerator, keeping up with her pace as she tries to ignore me.
“How was school?” I ask, glancing at the road, then back at Ana.
“Fine,” she replies, but it’s more of a question than a statement. She peers over her shoulder skeptically, something she seems to do more frequently during our short conversations, like she’s looking for the hidden meaning in everything I say. That, however, doesn’t stop her eyes from wandering up the length of the arm I have hanging out the window, along my bicep that I purposely flex, and up to my shoulder before finally meeting my gaze.
“Aren’t you cold?”
Fucking freezing. “Nah, babe. When I look at you, you’re so hot I could get a tan.”
She buries her chin into her scarf, hiding what I hope is a smile.
When she picks her head back up, she narrows her eyes playfully. “Do those lines actually work?”
“You tell me.” I wink. “You were the one still blushing for me.”
