CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE 

"Ready for school?" He suddenly asked while I swallowed before nodding my head. Then he released my mom, his hands still resting lazily over my mother's butt cheeks, squeezing slightly while... Looking at me, this time, with more intensity. "I will see you later love." He kissed my mother and then hugged her, still looking at me. I clutched the rims of my bag, daring not to look away. 

"Did you do something to my dad?" Drake asked, "He has been looking at you a little over five minutes." 

"Just shut up." I replied and he frowned at me. 

"You must have forgotten that I can still tell on you." 

"And I remember telling you that I don't care if you did tell him or my mother." 

"What if I don't tell either of them and told your friends in school." He replied and blood drained from my extremities, leaving my fingers cold. Drake watched the color fade from my cheeks, his satisfaction visible in the way he straightened his posture.

 

"Exactly why I said that you have to do my bidding this weekend if you don't want me to tell anyone." 

I clenched my fist, a little rough that I could feel my nails breaking into my palm. 

"What are you waiting for? Get in!" My mother called out. Thomas was already behind the wheel, staring at us through the windshield.

"We'll finish this later," I hissed, brushing past Drake to climb into the back seat.

As the car pulled away, the silence was suffocating. Thomas’s eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. He wasn't looking at the road; he was looking at the reflection of my lap, his gaze resting on the sliver of skin where my skirt met my thighs.

"I’m not coaching you today, Drake," Thomas said, his voice level, though his eyes never moved from the mirror.

"I know. I can handle it."

"What time should I pick you up?" Thomas asked. He didn't say my name, but the question was aimed straight at me.

"You don't have to. I'll walk."

"That wasn't the deal I made with your mother," he countered, his voice dropping an octave. "I promised her I’d look after you."

"Seven," I whispered. "Seven pm."

He gave a sharp, single nod as he pulled up to the college gates. 

"I will pick you up by 7pm," he said as I got down from the car. Drake followed suit, his car sped away. 

"My father is just trying to open up to you." 

"Just shut up." 

"Watch your tone," Drake warned, "I hold your entire reputation in my hand right now."

"Your grades are a joke and your social life is a train wreck, Drake," I shot back, rolling my eyes. "If you weren't a biker, nobody would even know you exist."

"And that’s where you come in." He pointed a finger at me. "You’re going to fix my grades."

"Not happening."

"I need those marks for nationals. If I fail, I'm out."

"How is that my problem?"

Drake leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, making my skin crawl. "Then how about I tell everyone how much you like to watch? How you get wet watching our parents through the door?"

"Keep your voice down!" I hissed, the lie burning in my throat. "I never did that."

"Liars don't blush that hard." He moved closer, his shoulder brushing mine. "Do you touch yourself too? I wonder how many times it takes. I’d love to watch you do it... see how hard I get just listening to you."

A shudder of pure revulsion went through me. "You've lost your mind."

"No," he grinned. "You’re the one who lost yours."

"Fine," I surrendered, the word tasting like ash. "I'll do it. Just stop."

Before I could breathe, he dumped his heavy gear and his overstuffed bag into my arms. The weight nearly sent me to my knees. "Good girl," he cooed, kissing my forehead with mocking affection. "Being a slave is much easier when you don't fight it."

I watched him walk away, the word hate echoing in my mind with every step I dragged toward his locker.

"Slave duty again?"

I spun around to see Brendan standing there. With his golden hair catching the hall light and that effortless, model-scouted jawline, he looked like he belonged on a billboard, not in a drafty high school hallway. 

No wonder he was the nation's fashion model and a base ball player. 

He was also Drake’s best friend, which usually made him off-limits for my sanity.

  

"Yeah," I muttered, struggling to shift the weight of the gear. "He’s a disaster. If I don't help him, he’ll get kicked off the team."

Brendan let out a soft, melodic laugh. "You're actually funny when you're mad."

I stared at him, caught off guard by the genuine warmth in his face. Before I could respond, Drake appeared again, sliding an arm around Brendan’s shoulder.

"She loves being my little helper," Drake joked, winking at me.

"Don't be a dick to your sister, Drake," Brendan said, though his eyes stayed on me.

I rolled my eyes and began to walk away, but a hand caught my arm gently, but firm enough to make me stop. I turned to find Brendan looking at me with an uncharacteristic shyness.

"Are you free tomorrow?" he asked.

"It’s Saturday. So... yeah."

"Would you want to go out with me? A real date?"

The air seemed to leave the hallway. My heart didn't just beat; it thudded against my ribs. Brendan, the school’s golden boy was waiting for an answer.

"Sure," I said, a small, genuine smile breaking through my frustration. A faint streak of pink surfaced on his cheeks.

"Great. I’ll pick you up at your place."

I was still nodding when Stephanie appeared out of thin air, screaming into my ear. "What just happened?! Brendan? A date?!"

"He just asked, Steph. It’s just a date."

"A date with Brendan is never 'just' a date! He’s obsessed!"

"Well..." I looked  past her, searching for the exit, but my breath caught again. Standing by the far lockers was Thomas. 

He was taller than the crowd, his presence cutting through the teenage chaos like a blade. 

His eyes were locked on mine, dark and unreadable, watching me stand there with the glow of another man's invitation still fresh on my face.

I sucked in a breath as his eyes found mine.