Scum (Book 1)

25. Grill

Liam’s POV

I’m terrified to open my eyes because if I see Cheyenne staring at me, I may be tempted to kiss her. I felt her turn to face me, and because I was already on the verge of waking up, I’m alert enough to have the feeling that she’s studying my face.

I could be imagining things, and I probably am, but I refuse to confirm, solely because what I told the girl before is true. Werewolves are primal in nature, and just because we’ve become more human-like through the years, it doesn’t mean that everything has changed.

In the past, wolves would have multiple casual s*x partners up until they found their mate and settled down. Now, with more accessibility to religious texts, and statistics that tell us that ninety percent of wolves have a fated partner, we see less of that.

No one actually knows when the whole ‘wait for your mate’ thing started, but it’s widely believed to have been a sexist move meant to place value on a woman’s body based on the number of partners she’s had.

Just like clothing, werewolves have adopted some human practices, and sl*t shaming is right at the top of the list.

For me, I really don’t care what my fated partner has done before me, unless of course, she made a career of it. There was a she-wolf in a neighboring pack that was a porn actress, and when she found her mate, the man couldn’t take the fact that people could click a button and see everything that was his.

That relationship ended in a rejection, and while a lot of people feel as though he overreacted, some say that the mate bond actually drove him to let her go, tormenting him with the fact that he would never be able to satisfy her alone; I tend to believe that theory.

That is why I respect those who want to wait just as much as I respect those who don’t. Everyone is entitled to their personal belief, including Chey, who has her own set of beliefs instilled in her by a combination of fear and naivety.

It’s not until she sits up and gets out of bed that I release the breath I was holding, and I tell myself that I won’t be foolish enough to switch our sleeping positions again, realizing that the only thing that made the night before less weird was the fact that all I had to look at were her feet.

This time, I had her face, neck, and the shape of her unrestrained breasts pressing against her shirt to feast my eyes on, and if I were less of a man, I would have been tempted to touch.

However, I am more of a man, and Dallas is my friend, one who trusted me with his sister's safety, and I plan to return her in the same condition she was ‘lent’ to me.

“You’re awake.” I’d only just gotten my erection down when Chey exited the restroom, and I’m not sure how to tell the girl that I may need to sneak off to f*ck someone, so I simply nod and go into the shower where I bring myself to a much-needed release, feeling one hundred percent better than before.

Chey showers after me, and I’m fully dressed when my sister arrives with an outfit that I hope isn’t as risqué as hers, especially because I’m already struggling to keep my eyes off my pretend girlfriend.

It hasn’t been this bad in a long time, not even when I was with Porsha, who would literally make me wait weeks in between s*x.

Jenna brings the stuff into the bathroom, then makes herself comfortable on the couch, and seemingly out of nowhere, she asks me if I think that Riker is feeling a pull toward Chey.

I feel a burning sensation in my chest, scared for the girl because Riker is a horrible person, and Chey deserves better; much, much better.

“The only pull he’s feeling is between his legs. If he felt anything real, he would have told me, but the only thing he’s interested in is Chey’s body.”

My mind starts going to Dallas and Nora, remembering that the man promised to do the right thing by her even if she weren’t his mate; I doubt Riker would do the same.

As my sister and I start talking about other things, Chey comes out of the shower wearing what was picked out for her, and I thank every werewolf deity that she’s fully covered.

“No Chey, you don’t button the shirt.” My mouth drops as I feel personally attacked by my own sister.

“I don’t understand. You guys told me that I’m not supposed to lift my shirt in front of men, and now you’re asking me to walk around with my shirt wide open.”

“One: you’re wearing a bikini underneath, and two: we’re at the beach. If you wore this anywhere else, it would be inappropriate.”

“There are too many rules to having boobs.” I was drinking water to distract myself from Chey’s cleavage, but her statement nearly drowned me by making me choke on my drink.

Chey is technically a registered nurse, so she stands behind me and uses the heel of her hand to pound my back, helping me catch my breath before I start laughing again.

I never thought of it in that way, and now I don’t think I’ll ever be able to think of sexism as anything other than ‘boob rules.’

“What happened?” I can’t stay serious long enough to answer Chey, and because the girl is confused, she shrugs, walks away, puts on her sandals, and leaves our hotel room.

“I think you offended her,” Jenna says, but I don’t know what I did wrong, so I brush my sister's comment off. It’s not until we’re in the car that I realize that she was probably right, but Chey has on a headset, and hasn’t made eye contact with me once.

“What did you do?” Royce mind-links, reading the atmosphere.

“I don’t know. She just stormed out of the room.”

“Did you ask her?” I did not ask, but since Royce mentioned it, I have Jenna pull the headset out of Chey’s ears so that she can hear me.

“What’s the problem? You’ve been acting weird since we left.”

“There is no problem.” Chey tries to put her headset back on, but my sister pulls it away again, angering the already angry girl.

“Chey… we’re supposed to be a happy couple, remember?”

“I’ll smile when we get to the party.” Royce stifles a laugh, and I notice that Chey’s face goes even darker before she puts her headset back in.

We get to the party at a decent time, and true to her word, Chey smiles at me when I help her out of the car, makes a disgusted face, and after sniffing the air, her eyes go dark. I don’t know what the problem is, but she goes straight to the grill wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

She’s clearly upset, but the guy at the grill is just staring at her as though he’s looking at a goddess.

“Chey,” I whisper, but the girl straight up ignores me, likely still angry from before.

“Hello, my name is Cheyenne, what’s yours?”

“Curtis.”

“Hi Curtis, did you know that you’re burning the meat?” I start laughing, realizing that Chey’s new attitude is because she’s angry about wasting food.

“Sorry; I don’t know sh*t about grilling. I pulled the short straw and Alpha Phoebe is forcing me.” I believe that story. Phoebe can be a bully to men who make advances to her, specifically because she’s not interested in men.

As she puts it, as long as they want something from her, she might as well get all she can out of them, being that they don’t respect her preferences.

Chey has already moved to the other side of the grill, bumping Curtis out of the way as she stands in front of the flames, trying to get her bearings. Unlike Curtis, she knows what she’s doing and when we have barbecues on pack territory, Chey’s grill is the most popular.

“For starters, there’s too much charcoal.” Chey moves all the meat off the grill, then uses a piece of wet cardboard to scoop the excess charcoal up, but she doesn’t dump it in the sand, telling Curtis that they will use it later.

She’s still ignoring me, so I find a place to sit, not too far away of course, and I watch the woman work, confused when I see her start working with spices that she must have brought from the hotel.

At some point, she removes her shirt, and I hear a series of sounds that make me look around.

Chey is literally being gawked at, and I’m extremely annoyed, especially because she’s been laughing and giggling with Curtis, who she has cutting meat into smaller sections, and using extra skewers that someone brought to cook hotdogs over an open flame that she set in the foil pan.

Everyone seems amazed that she even knows how to grill, but I’m more focused on the fact that she isn’t talking to me.

“Trouble in paradise?” I roll my eyes at Riker, knowing that he’s likely been watching me and Chey From the moment we arrived, so there is no point in lying.

“She isn’t trying to make me jealous if that’s what you’re asking.” The man hands me a cold beer, clicking bottles with me before sitting.

“Oh, I can tell. Teaching Curtis how to cook hotdogs isn’t sexy at all, but Im curious as to how-.”

“It’s ready!” Chey shouts out, and Riker and I playfully push one another as we scramble to our feet.

Fortunately, Chey is the one who said that we should bring plates, so no one can take anything without first talking to either Royce or Jenna.

“That’s cheating,” Riker says after my sister chucks the bag of plates to the far side of where we’re standing, but I’m not that much of an ass, so I reveal that I took an extra plate with him in mind.

It’s no surprise that Chey’s kabobs were the hit of the night, and I’m still watching her as she shuts down the grill, picks up a remaining plate, and goes to serve herself, but after turning over several sheets of foil paper, the woman frowns, clearly unable to find anything left.

Now is my time to shine, and while the woman dejectedly walks toward the ocean, I follow, holding the food I packed specifically because I knew this would happen to her.