Vincent (Made Men Book 2)(17)

But Adalyn was trying to force her into going to Vincent’s graduation. She was certain it was going to be an absolute nightmare since graduations lasted a million years and were completely boring. She pretended the fact that she hadn’t seen Vincent since she had gotten out of his car didn’t play a role into why she didn’t want to see him walk or go to Nero’s party. Lake knew, without a doubt, Vincent was going to be there, and the last place she wanted to see him was at a party.

She had been successful in pretending Vincent was dead, choosing to only remember him up until the day he had kissed her. Truthfully, Lake was scared of seeing him again, and she planned to avoid what it felt like to be in his presence forever. Okay, now quit thinking about him already.

Lake drew her attention back up to the clock, not able to believe it was real. Any second, she should hear…

Tinng.

That was it, the victory bell she had been waiting for. She had imagined the sound to be way better than that. But who cares!

“So, Lake, how does it feel to officially be a high school graduate?” Adalyn asked, getting up from her desk.

Smiling, Lake stood up. “Pretty damn good.”

Lake was determined it was going to be a new beginning and a happily ever after from there on out.

* * *

Would they fucking hurry already?

Vincent waited down the hall from the art room with Amo and Chloe. The two were arguing about God only knew what.

“I’m going to hurry their asses up,” Vincent mumbled, knowing they wouldn’t hear him.

He started the walk down the hallway, wondering how the fuck one semester could change everything. All throughout high school, he had fucked almost every girl in Legacy Prep, but he hadn’t fucked one in months. Vincent had one girl to blame all that on, too. Elle Buchanan.

Honestly, it was a whole other story, but the short version was she happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Then the boss had given Nero the job of finding out what she knew. Along the way, Nero had needed his and Amo’s help and lucky for them, Elle had come with a best friend. Chloe Masters. They had found out the two friends were sickeningly bullied at school, and instead of fucking all the girls his last months in high school, he had been paying them back for every fucking thing they had ever done to the two girls. Admittedly, he had enjoyed it, a lot.

It wasn’t like his balls were blue; he merely started proudly fucking public school girls, instead. Despite his lack of blue-balls, he definitely wasn’t getting off like he used to. Vincent fucked longer and harder, and still he was hard. He began to fuck more and more girls, trying to satiate his appetite, but sleep ended up coming before satisfaction. Then Vincent had begun to prefer fucking them from behind so he didn’t have to look at their face. He decided to blame Elle for ruining all high school girls for him. One thing was for sure—his last semester had taught him something: high school girls are fucking bitches.

Vincent went into the art room to find it empty. Looking at the door in the back, he began to smile. He quietly started walking toward it, hearing noises coming from behind the door. Leaning against a table facing the door, he decided to wait.

It wasn’t much longer before the door flew open.

“I’m upset I wasn’t invited,” Vincent said, watching Nero come out of the art supply closet, zipping up his pants as Elle buttoned her shirt.

The strawberry-blonde tried to run back inside the closet, but Nero caught her hand and pulled her toward him.

Vincent winked at her. “No need to be shy, sweetheart.”

Elle covered her face with her hand. “I can’t believe you talked me into that, Nero. I won’t let you do that again.”

“I swear to God, Vincent, I’m going to pay you back for all your bad timing,” Nero said.

He started laughing. “Come on, man; it’s the last day of school. You two aren’t going to see that closet again. There’s a million other closets you two can—”

Nero held up his hand. “Vincent, shut the fuck up. Right now.”

“I will if you two are done so I can get the fuck out of here.”

“Oh, my God,” Elle whispered into Nero’s shoulder as he pulled her along.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart; you weren’t the closet’s first. I was in there freshman year.”

“You’re not helping,” Nero hissed.

Vincent laughed, deciding to stop giving Elle such a hard time. He didn’t have a choice, really. If he kept going, Nero was going to kick his ass.

They had all grown fond of her and Chloe. Hell, because of them, he, Nero, and Amo had all become soldiers. Being a soldier in the Caruso mob was the best and last thing which had changed that semester.