Chapter 6: What Kind Of Fool Misses Curfew?

JAX

I killed time until seven o’clock. My phone buzzed non-stop on the passenger seat... dozens of texts and missed calls from Eugene. I ignored every single one.

I knew this completely ruined my plan of becoming his best buddy, but there was no way I was going to sit in a boring library. Not when I had the perfect excuse to show up at his house and see his hot father again.

Just the memory of Marcus’s heavy, rough hands on me made my jeans feel way too tight. A low groan tore from my throat. I ran a hand through my silver hair, gripped the steering wheel, and sped toward the quiet, boring neighborhood where the Grants lived.

I parked my green sports car two blocks away, stepping out into the cool night air. I adjusted my jacket, a cocky smirk pulling at my lips as I walked up the driveway to their red front door. I couldn't wait to see the look on Eugene’s face when I pushed my way inside.

I pressed the doorbell.

The lock clicked and the door swung open.

"It's way past your curfew, boy—" a deep voice growled, cutting off abruptly. "...You?"

My breath hitched.

Officer Marcus Grant stood in the doorway. I wasn't expecting him to be home yet. He was out of his uniform, wearing a tight grey t-shirt that gripped his chest, and his jaw was clenched tight.

Wait. Past your curfew?

My stomach dropped. Did that mean Eugene wasn't home? Oh, fuck. There was no way that nerd was still waiting for me at the library, right?

"What the hell are you doing here, Whitfield?" Marcus glared at me, his icy grey eyes filled with pure disgust.

"Ah..." I rubbed my lower lip, suddenly feeling exposed. "You see, your son and I are partners for a class project. I came to... work with him."

Marcus let out a harsh scoff, grabbing his phone from the entryway table. "What kind of fool pairs my son with someone like you?"

Like father, like son. They both loved insulting me.

"Eugene has been unreachable for hours. I don't even know where he is," Marcus muttered, staring at his screen, completely ignoring my presence.

If I told him I knew exactly where his son was, he’d know I stood him up. I just shrugged my shoulders, leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Well, if he isn't home, I can just wait inside for you while you go find him."

Marcus finally looked up, his eyes freezing me in place. "You must be out of your mind if you think I'd let a punk like you inside my house."

He grabbed his keys and a dark jacket, brushing right past me as he walked toward his cruiser in the driveway. "I'm going to find my son. Don't even think about coming back here. If you have a project, do it at school."

He slammed the car door shut and sped off into the night.

A sharp, annoying pinch hit my chest. Guilt. I actually felt guilty for abandoning the little nerd.

"Fuck," I grumbled, jogging back to my car. I pulled up the text with the library address and slammed my foot on the gas.

When I pushed through the library doors, the suffocating smell of old paper and ink almost made me turn back around. The place was massive... three floors of endless bookshelves. Where the hell was I supposed to find him?

I pulled out my phone and called him. No answer.

"Eugene!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

Every single head in the room snapped toward me. The girls immediately flushed red and looked away, while the ugly guys glared at me for ruining their peace. I just glared right back.

"Eugene!" I yelled again.

A short, older woman with tiny framed glasses marched straight up to me.

"Excuse me! Do you think this is the right place to be shouting like a hooligan?" she hissed in a thick British accent.

I wanted to snap at her, but if she threw me out, I’d never find him. I forced a soft, panicked look onto my face.

"I sincerely apologize, ma'am," I whispered, faking a shaky breath. "But I'm looking for my younger brother. If he doesn't get home on time, our father gets... very furious. I'm just so worried."

The woman’s hard face instantly softened. "Oh, dear," she gasped, glancing around. "I believe I know a Eugene. The handsome blonde boy? He spends hours here. He's up on the second floor. But please, approach him quietly, child."

"I will. Thank you, ma'am," I smiled sweetly.

I took the stairs two at a time. I didn't even have to search. Eugene was slumped over a corner desk, completely passed out on top of his open textbooks, his laptop screen glowing against his face.

I walked up to him. His phone was sitting on the wood, vibrating silently.

The caller ID flashed: Mr. Grant.

Who the hell saves their own father's name as Mr. Grant?

I picked up the phone and swiped the green button.

"My God! Eugene, where the hell are you?!" Marcus's voice boomed through the speaker.

"Hello, Mr. Grant," I murmured softly.

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. I could practically hear his heart stop.

"Wh... why is it always you?" Marcus finally rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, furious growl. "What the fuck did you do to my son?!"

A hot rush of blood flooded my cheeks. Just hearing that stern, proper officer curse at me sent a wild thrill straight down to my stomach. What the hell is wrong with me?

"Eugene is at the City Library, second floor," I whispered into the mic. "Come get him. And remember... be quiet."

"You little—"

I hung up.

I dropped the phone back onto the desk. Pulling out my own phone, I snapped a quick picture of Eugene drooling on his notes. I grabbed his pen, scribbled on a sticky note, and slapped it onto his textbook.

'Goodnight, sleeping beauty. See you tomorrow.'

I slipped out of the library long before Officer Grant's cruiser could pull up.

By the time I drove back to my massive, empty house, I was exhausted. But the moment I stepped through the front doors, my butler was standing right in the foyer waiting for me.

Poor old man. I always told him to go to bed if I wasn't home by seven. If he was standing here, it meant he had a message from my parents.

"Greetings, Young Master," he bowed.

"What kind of news is it this time?" I frowned, tossing my keys onto the table. "Good or bad?"

"Ah..." The butler shifted nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Your father called to inform you that your aunt will be coming to stay here for a few days."

My blood ran cold. "My aunt? Which one?"

"The third one. Millicent Grant."

My jaw locked so hard my teeth ached.

What a fucking nightmare this week was turning out to be. The exact same woman who made my entire childhood a living hell was coming to stay in my house.

Fuck me.