Chapter 2-2
1207 Words
Cole
“Seriously, I can’t believe you made the human take your quiz for you.” Wilde, our team captain, punches my shoulder in the locker room after showers. “That was so Gucci.”
“Shut up with the Gucci thing, dude,” Bo says. “You wouldn’t know Gucci from Fruit of the Loom, asshole.”
There’s a chorus of snorts from the underclassmen, evidence of their continuous suck-up.
“Yeah, I figure Bailey Sanchez owes me a lot more than a passing grade on a pop quiz,” I say.
Austin makes a dissenting sound beside me.
“What?” I demand.
He shrugs but looks away, acknowledging I’m alpha of this team and our group of friends, even if I’m not captain. Even if I’m not the biggest.
I’m definitely the meanest, and everyone knows it.
“Why is she even here?” Bo asks. “Brewery HR should’ve encouraged her mom to send her to Cave Hills with the rest of the humans.”
I shake my head, the misery of the past few months washing over me. My dad’s increased drinking. The way he picks fights with me and Casey. The progressive spiral of s**t-tasticness. Things were bad before Bailey Sanchez arrived, but her moving in next door made them infinitely worse.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to make her sorry for it.”
“I don’t know, I think she’s kind of hot,” Slade leers.
“Shut up, Slade,” Austin warns. Slade’s the oblivious one in our group. He’s somehow missed that despite my intense dislike for Bailey, I also have a thing for her.
He goes on, though, oblivious to the warning, too. “Nice t**s and those little dresses. And those big eyes make her look just like a little Mexican doll—”
“Don’t talk about her tits.” I whirl and headbutt his face. There’s a loud crunch of cartilage and bone.
He covers his nose. “Aw, f**k!”
Wilde and Bo jump between us in case there’s more. Coach Jamison has a strict no fighting rule—one I’ve had a hard time with this year.
Like father, like son, I guess.
I lean to the left to look around Wilde’s bulky frame and point a finger at Slade. “Don’t mention her again. She’s mine.”
“What?” Slade still doesn’t follow. “I thought you hated her.”
“She’s mine,” I repeat firmly. “Mine to torment, and I’m going to enjoy the f**k out of it.”
All four of my friends shake their heads like they’re sorry for me.
“That’s f****d up, dude,” Austin says.
Slade finally realized he needs to keep his mouth shut. He shrugs and clicks the bones of his nose back in place. It will be healed by tomorrow; that’s the glory of being a shifter.
“Speaking of HILFs”—humans I’d like to f**k—“you should see this chick from Cave Hills who showed up at the body shop yesterday.” Bo whistles low, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. “Bangin’ body with the attitude to match. She’s trouble, though. I think the car she brought in to get painted was hot.”
“Wait…” Slade says, finally coming up to speed and ignoring Bo’s far more interesting opener. “So you do want to f**k Bailey?”
It’s a simple question. I’m not sure why the answer seems so complicated.
When I don’t answer, Bo pipes in, “Why don’t you just bone her if she’s under your skin so bad? Get it out of your system.”
Is that what I need? To hate-f**k the girl next door until she’s out of my system?
Truth is, I never jacked off thinking about a human female. That is, until Bailey and her nerdy-hot body showed up.
She’s got curves in all the right places, and that wide pink streak of hair she has does something to me. She acts like the straight A’s goodie goodie, but that streak tells me she’s a rebel at heart.
And Slade is right. The big dark eyes against smooth pale skin does make her look like a doll. A doll I want to do bad things to.
Maybe getting my hands on that juicy body of hers would be the cure for this s**t. I can put her in her place while we both enjoy it.
I don’t need her to move away; I need to get her beneath me. Need to hear her beg. Need her on her knees, mouth stuffed with my c**k. Or tied up, face-down on my bed. Maybe on her back, my hand around her throat as I bang into that tight little cunt.
I guarantee she’s a virgin.
She’s way too perfect good-girl not to be.
Hmm. Ruining the daughter might be the perfect punishment for the human who took my dad’s self-respect.
It’s not a bad plan. I adjust my c**k as the thought takes root and starts to spin.
“Hello? Cole?” Wilde waves a hand in front of my eyes. I guess I’ve been staring off.
“He’s already boning her in his mind,” Bo snorts.
“Yeah.” I push my shoulder off the lockers. “I’m definitely planning on it.”
“Just make it legal, dude, or Alpha Green will have your nuts. You know the rules,” Austin warns.
Bile hits my throat. “Are you suggesting I’d r**e her?” Anger makes my vision dome, my wolf showing his colors. I may be a d**k, but do my own friends think I’d actually stoop that low?
There’s no f*****g way I stand for r**e. Not ever. I have a little sister. I’d kill any fucker who forced himself on her. On any girl in this school. I may hate the girl, but s**t. Wolves are protective by nature and there’s a code of honor even I wouldn’t ever stray from.
Austin takes a step back. So does Wilde. Bo jumps up off the bench and gives me wide berth, too.
“Whoa, sorry. Good. I just wanted to be sure.” Austin has his hands up.
I turn away and yank my clothes on, still pissed.
“I’m sorry, dude. I definitely didn’t mean—” Austin tries.
“Go f**k yourself.”
“Yeah, okay. f*****g off. I’m still your best friend.”
I flip him the bird over my shoulder. I know, very mature.
But calling BFF when we’re seniors in high school is pretty juvenile, too. It’s true. Austin’s been my partner in crime since we were pups and our moms taught at the elementary school together. And really, what he’s saying is that he still has my back. No matter how dickish I get.
They all do. Because they know what’s going down at my house.
And that’s the only redeeming thing about pack living.
I grab my bag and head outside.
Casey’s waiting for me, even though her practice is over an hour before mine. As a sophomore, my little sister is already star of the volleyball team, leading the school to what will be another state championship.
No cheerleader w****s in this family, my dad likes to say. Which is a dig at our mom, who was cheer captain back when he was Wolf Ridge’s defense star.
Casey climbs into the cab of the truck and slumps back, staring out the window. I start the truck and drive. We don’t speak. We hardly acknowledge each other. This is our routine.
Casey could have caught a ride with any one of her friends. She doesn’t have to wait for me to drive her home. But she does. And it’s not because she wants to spend extra time with her big bro. Or because she just really likes to hang out after practice.
It’s because she doesn’t want to go home without me there to protect her.
- Writer
