The Complete Arrogant Series(34)

The liquor is cheap and burns like fire going down, but it doesn’t take long before my body is warm and numb. The room spins, but I welcome it. I’m on a fucking merry-go-round anyway, so what’s the difference?

Waverly shouldn’t have thrown herself at me. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into. She deserves rainbows and hearts and flowers and shit like that. She deserves a boyfriend with a letterman’s jacket and a Camaro, not me. I’d fuck her over without even trying. I’m not sure I’m capable of feeling any of those saccharine, disgusting, lovesick emotions, anyway. It’s just not how I’m built.

She needs to get laid, just not by me. Not that I don’t want that. I’d fuck the hell out of that. But my cock does better buried in something it doesn’t give two shits about.

She’s gorgeous. She’s smart. She’s sweet and kind, if slightly confused. She’s a good girl, and she was better off before I opened my big, fat mouth all because I was bored. This would probably be the one time in my life I’d ever agree with Josiah Mackey—I don’t deserve someone like her. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to see her married off to some polygamist asshole, but I had no business fucking with her and opening that can of worms.

I hope she doesn’t stir shit up with her dad. He’s going to want to know why she doesn’t want to talk to me all of a sudden, and I’m pretty sure it’s only a matter of time before he starts piecing things together.

If he hasn’t already.

It would’ve been fun to fuck her, though. Those round, untouched tits begging to be fondled. That perky ass in desperate need of grabbing. I’m sure her pussy’s just as tightly wound as her personality.

I close my eyes and imagine her tongue running the length of my cock, her hand gently massaging my balls. My dick swells, filling my boxers, and I know there’s only one remedy.

I won’t fuck Waverly in real life, but I’ll fuck the shit out of her in my fantasies.

Whatever helps me sleep, right?



***



Breakfast is rough. I sit at the end of the table across from Bellamy and Waverly. I keep sneaking looks at Bellamy, trying to see if I can get a read on her. She sits there with her slacks and blouse and pearls, everything covered up. Not a single blonde hair out of place or a single bag under her eyes. No indication whatsoever that she was out all night doing God-knows-what.

She’s good. She’s fucking good.

Bellamy catches my glance and doesn’t make a face or shoot me a look. For all intents and purposes, I may as well have been dreaming about catching her hiding in the bushes.

Waverly eats in silence. At the opposite end of the table Mark is deep in conversation with his three brides. By the looks of it, they’re clinging to his every word like he’s preaching the gospel.

All the younger kids sit in the middle of the table, laughing and telling knock-knock jokes. They’re carefree, those kids. They have no clue how hard life’s about to get for them in the near future. It’s a miracle the Millers have been able to keep their lifestyle under wraps for so long.

Bellamy is the first to rise. She dabs her mouth on a napkin, runs her hand over her hair, waves bye to her family, and flits out the door, her heels clicking on the tile. Waverly is next. Then me. We walk outside a few feet apart, saying nothing to one another.

Her hair’s piled on top of her head and two diamond studs adorn her ears. She’s dressed down today, a University of Utah hoodie and a pair of dark jeans. I’m guessing she was too tired to dress in her usual twin-set uniform, but she still looks damn good.

We drive to class, me following her the same way but not intentionally. I give her space when she heads inside, sitting out in my truck until she disappears in the building.

I’m bombarded by Claire Fahnlander the second I reach my locker. Last I knew, hers was in a different hallway in the opposite side of the building.

Stalker.

“Hey, Jensen.” She twirls her long dark hair around her finger and smiles. I can almost see my reflection in her lip-gloss. “So… that party tonight at my place. Are you coming?”

I switch my books out and hang up my bag. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

She swats my arm and laughs, dropping her jaw like she thinks I’m flirting with her. I’m not.

“What could you possibly be doing tonight that’s going to be more fun than my party?” She bats her thick, spidery eyelashes.

I glance up at the clock. Two minutes until class. “Not sure.”

“Please tell me you’re not hanging out with Waverly.” She rolls her eyes clear into the back of her head. It’s slightly over the top. There’s obviously some bad blood between them, but I don’t give two shits about the details.