Under Locke(148)

Repeatedly.



When the heck had I become this person? This girl that had to grit her teeth because jealousy threatened to make her pop a few blood vessels. The smile on my face felt forced, fake, unnatural.



And the worst part was that we'd only been at his house for fifteen minutes tops.



Why hadn’t I pushed harder to stay at Dex’s house instead? I’d told Dex I didn’t want to go. It wasn’t necessarily that I never wanted to see Luther or other Widowmakers again. I just didn’t want to see them any time soon. The whole crap in Dex’s office had been mortifying. The last thing I wanted was for them to look at me with “Poor Ris” on their faces.



I hated that damn look.



Dex had simply looked at me with those thoughtful eyes and stroked the line of my nose. “You told me to go fuck myself in front of club members. You, who says friggin’ and ef, babe.” He blinked. “Think you called me a dickface, too. Didn’t ya?”



Whoops. That was a positive.



The tip of his finger tapped my nose as he exhaled loudly. “Trust me, honey. I’m sorry I said that to you but the only thing anybody is gonna remember from that day is what you called me, not the other way around.”



I had supposed in that moment that Dex had a point. Hadn’t he gotten into a fight after that?



I finally relented and agreed to go to Luther’s place. The possibility that there might be people there that knew Dex more intimately than I did never even occurred to me.



Based on the number of bodies at his house, the "get together" Dex had told me about that morning, was going to be an all day event. It wasn't like I could complain. I didn't have any right to judge him for the people he'd been with...I couldn't even finish the thought without nausea clawing its way up my throat.



I was that jealous bitch.



I bumped into a short blonde as I shuffled out of the kitchen with my friggin' quinoa patty and fruit salad in hand. The girl looked in my direction and gave me a slow, apprising smile. In jeans that looked painted on and a tank top that barely held in her huge boobs, she was all confidence. And gigantic boobies.



"Sorry," she said in a soft voice that wasn't entirely convincing.



Oh boy. Had Dex slept with her too?



You don't want to know.



Oh hell.



I flashed her a strained smile. "Sorry about that."



And then I fled.



Wuss.



Luther's massive backyard was packed with Widowmakers and their families. There was a pretty big pool right smack in the middle of the property with quite a bit of kids splashing around, screaming. Adults littered the folding tables and chairs that had been set up around the perimeter as classic rock blasted through the speakers mounted on the back patio.



It was nice. Really friggin' nice.



But just like at Dex's niece's party, I felt out of place without my brother and the black-haired man I'd slept under last night. The only way to change that was by making friends, right?



But I could make friends later. When I wasn't standing awkwardly by the door like my freshman year of high school in the cafeteria.



There was a cluster of black vests and different shades of white and black t-shirts by one of the tables all the way in the back. Of friggin' course. I side-stepped my way through the screaming kids running around their moms, and spotted Dex's dark hair. He was sitting down, elbows to his knees, watching one of the other members with a disinterested expression on his face.



One of the men, an older one I hadn't seen much of during my stay in Austin, hit him with the back of his hand, tilting his chin up. Immediately, those pure blue eyes shot up and around the chairs surrounding him. He gaze shifted and drifted past the men, past the women, until finally landing on me.



I waggled my eyebrows, circling the chairs the Widows had grouped together. The side of Dex's full, pink mouth quirked up at my gesture.



"Hi guys," I said loudly enough for the dozen other members to hear me.



Ten different variations of "What's goin' on, Ris," came back to me as I came to stand in front of Dex, waving at the Club members in return.



I lifted up my plate. "Can I sit with you?" I asked him. The idea that he would say no wasn't even a figment of a possibility in my brain.



Dex sat back in his chair spreading his legs wide, his bright white t-shirt popped even more against the colorful figures of his sleeves. The corner of his lips stayed tipped up. "’Course you can, honey."



The obvious choice was probably to sit in his lap but instead, I turned around and crossed my legs before sinking to the ground between Dex's feet. I felt him shift behind me, his thighs closing in around my arms. Fingers sifted through my hair, pulling the strands over one of my shoulders.