CRUDE: Breaker Heights (Book 1)

Chapter 2

After my aunt Cora took me around the house and showed me all the fancy things it had to offer, we made our way out to the pool house.

My new humble abode.

We spent the afternoon putting my things away and catching up. I confronted her about the fact I would be attending BHA, Breaker Heights Academy, instead of the local public school. She said when she approached Mr. Conway about her taking me in that he suggested it, or more like demanded it. He said that it would offer me a better education for my future and open more doors for me later on. Realistically, he just doesn’t want his reputation shot, because of some kid living in his home attending public school. I may be a lot of things, but a fool is not one of them. It benefits him just as much as it does me.

Aunt Cora had a few things she needed to finish up for Conway's evening dinner. With the time alone, I called the boys and checked in with them. They ended up having to cut the call short for a crew meeting at the club house. I finished putting all my things away about an hour ago and decided hanging by the pool would be a great way to pass the time. So, here I sit now with the sun’s rays beating down on my pasty skin, and my drug store sunglasses perched on my nose. Journey is blasting through my earbuds because there isn’t anything like classic rock to soothe the soul. I guess this place isn’t so bad after all. I would have only dreamed of spending an afternoon like this back home. Absolutely no distractions.

I start to doze off when suddenly an overcast appears and the sun is gone.

Of freaking course there would be rain the one time I can enjoy this.

I pull my earbuds out of my ears, preparing to pack up my things and make a run for it back to the pool house. I twist quickly getting out of the sunbed to make a race for it. Until I smack face first into a brick wall.

With an “hmph” I tumble to the ground, my things scatter all over the concert floor.

“What the f**k?!” With my glasses twisted on my face, I slowly bring my glare up.

Two long, thick legs. One, two, three, four–six washboard abs. My tongue slips out and runs along my bottom lip. Damn. Moving up, two biceps that are clearly worked out on the daily, defined broad shoulders, and delicious olive skin.

Dear lord, please let this tempting body have a yummy face. Please, please, please.

Finally, forcing my eyes up to the top, I notice the full set of blush lips, causing me to bite down on my lower one when I imagine all the things those lips could do to me. A jawline that could cut glass. Alluring hazel eyes, and auburn hair tousled perfectly for s*x appeal. This guy has the potential to be my kryptonite, he’s hot as hell. s**t–not good.

“Who the f**k are you?” a rich, striking voice laced with distaste.

Well damn, it f*****g speaks. That was fun while it lasted. I remove my glasses and adjust my small top to make sure the girls didn’t fall from their designated areas. Brushing myself up to stand, I meet the gaze of this impressive creature, except I can’t because he seems to be taking in my appearance. A scowl spreads across his face as his eyes roam all over, scoffing when he notices my tattoos. I huff back at him. Normally, I would rip douchebags like this a new asshole for gawking too long. I’ll let it slide this once. I mean, I just practically eye r***d the dude. When his eyes finally land on mine I raise an eyebrow at him. “Get a good look?”

Rolling his eyes, “Why are you in my pool?”

“Your po-” I start to say and cut myself off. I squish my lips together in thought. Now that I think about it, I do recognize that auburn hair, the jawline, and those broad shoulders. My face turns into a cocky smile. “Ryder Conway.” I bend to pick up my things and once I have them I right myself again. This time squaring my shoulders and standing a little taller. “Funny, I thought it was your father's pool.”

His eyes show his disgust while his voice is filled with repulsion. “Funny, I thought they took the trash out on Friday’s.” Trash? Pff. I’ve been called so much worse. This guy clearly has a problem. Lucky for me, I don’t give a s**t what it is.

Move on, pretty boy. I eat guys like you for breakfast where I come from.

“Why are you here, Southside? You're not welcome.”

“I may not be welcomed by you, but your daddy surely had no problem welcoming me into my new home today.” What the hell Ray, why are you egging him on? Why am I even entertaining this prick? I end up smirking when I notice his jaw tighten. Did I hit a nerve? Good.

I move around him and start walking away from this pathetic squabble.

“Don’t think this is finished southside.”

I open my door and just before I step inside I look back toward the rich t**t.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” then step through the entrance, slamming the door behind me.

................................

“What’s that sound?” Deacon asks, squinting at me through the phone.

I grunt, “Rich boy is having a party. Some sort of ‘end of the summer bash’ before we start school on Monday.”

Coop gasps with horror, throwing his hand over his heart. “And you aren’t out there partying? Why?”

“Because boozing it up with a bunch of cocky pricks doesn’t really seem appealing.” I roll my eyes at him.

“One, I saw that eye roll. Two, it's free booze babe. You don’t turn down free s**t where we come from.” Coop lectures me.

“You do when it's considering fraternizing with the enemy.” I mumbled.

“News flash babe, you're already fraternizing, you're living with them.”

“Shut the hell up, Coop.” I glare at him through my screen.

A smile takes over his face. “There's my girl. Good to know she hasn’t lost her touch.”

I huff at him while I watch Deacon's hand smack across the back of his head. “Again, she’s not your girl.”

“Funny Deac, since I’m not yours either.”

I hear Cooper whisper something along the lines of ‘great here we go.’ While Deacon, gets his face close to the camera with a sexy as sin smirk, “Oh, but baby, you will always be my girl… even when you aren’t”

“You continue to think that, Deacon. Coop–always a pleasure. I got to get off here. I’m completely beat from today. I’m gonna go light one and then crash for the night. You two, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I grin knowing that leaves them to do anything beyond the stars practically. “I love you guys, I’ll call soon.”

“We love you too, Ray Ray. Call if you need us.” Coop instructs me.

“Talk soon.” I hit the end button on my phone.

Leaving those two behind at home was the worst part about coming to this place. They’re my home, my rock. For as long as I can remember, it’s just been us three. Almost like the musketeers but from the hood, and maybe not saving lives. More like causing trouble. Pushing myself up off the couch, I snag the joint sitting in front of me and make my way out the door. I pad over to the concrete wall that lines the back of the house. Noting the way it sits in the dark, away from prying eyes. Still giving me the best view to people-watch.

One thing you learn in the Southside–know your enemy. I didn’t come here without doing my research. These people may think they know who I am based on where I come from, but in all honesty, they have no clue. They have an image that people from the southside just run drugs or p********e themselves out. They could never understand the struggle of not knowing when or where your next meal would be. Getting to school early to use the locker showers because your water got shut off at home. How the sounds of sirens and gunshots in the night are a lullaby, because that’s the normal sound on the street. When it comes to protecting yourself, you shoot first and ask questions later. Something tells me these kids don’t know the first thing about surviving.

They live, while I survive.

I light my rollo and bring it to my lips and take a long drag. It definitely hits the spot. At my exhale, I bring my attention to the people in front of me. Some splashing around in the pool, some dancing to the beat of the music while grinding themselves on the person beside them. Others scattered around in conversation with each other. I take another drag and hold it. All of them are wearing their fancy designer clothing. I glance down and take a look at the boxers I am wearing as pants and an old tank top I’ve probably had since I started to develop t**s. I laugh my exhale. I go to bring the joint back to my lips again when it's plucked from my fingers.

“You must be the new girl.” I look over at my visitor. Short blonde hair, dark blue eyes. Standing about six foot and wearing a goofy ass smile on his face. Not bad. He's hot but not my type. His body is impeccable but more on the leaner side. Weston Wright. One of the three ‘Breaker Boys’, the name of Ryder Conway’s posse.

“What makes you say that?” It’s really obvious to everyone that I am in fact the new girl. I don’t fit in here. Most of these girls have fake tans and bleach blonde hair. The few that don’t have hair that needs to be bleached every week still look absolutely flawless. Hair styled perfectly, manicures that cost as much as tuition back home, and outfits that they probably went and bought just for tonight. Skin that’s a blank canvas because their parents would probably cut them off if they came home with some ink. It was a dumb question to ask, but let's see if the guy has balls to tell the truth.

He tilts his head to study me, like he knows I just put him on the spot. “Really? That’s the game we're playing? What? You want me to tell you I know you're the new girl because your hair is practically begging for help. Your attitude asks for trouble, your clothes look like they got hand picked at the thrift store 8 years ago, and let’s not comment on the branding all over you.”

I give him a small grin and yanked the joint back from his fingers. “So I’m trash?”

He laughs, “Nope, I’m smart enough to know not to play into that trap. I just think you're different… a breath of fresh air around here.” He leans his hip against the wall and faces me.

Hmm. I studied him for a second. Chewing on the inside of my cheek. “Fresh air, huh?”

Nodding, “Yeah, all these girls here-” he waves a hand around “are predictable. They flirt and say all the right things to get exactly what they want–a rich husband. They dress and do whatever is expected of them. The biggest thrill they get is when Chanel releases a new handbag. Of course though, it goes without saying, as a man, we give in to them because p***y is pussy.” He shrugs his shoulders as if not a big deal. “But something tells me, that’s not you, and you falling in line with any of that would mean the start of a zombie apocalypse.” His gaze meets mine.

I smile, “Smart man.” I stick my hand out to him “Ray.”

He takes my hand, kissing the top of it. “I know.” A cocky smirk turned up. “Weston Wright.”

My turn, “I know.” I smirked.

We both laugh before the rich prick from earlier has to interrupt.

“Wes! The f**k are you doing man? We don’t hang with scum.”

I scoff. Weston looks like he wants to say something, but I pat his chest with my hand, telling him, ‘it’s okay, I got this big guy’, before he can. Weston's eyes light up, intrigued. Clearly interested in whatever is about to go down here.

I jump down off the wall and lift my chin to Ryder. For a second my breath catches, the damn guy is sexy as heck. “Trash? Is that the best you got? Let me make this clear, rich boy. Where I come from we chew up cocky fuckers like you and spit you back out. You want me gone? Good luck. I’m not going anywhere. You may be able to bark and all your pathetic groupies fall in line, but the difference between you and I? You bark, but I bite.”

His jaw ticks with annoyment while I hear Weston chuckle behind me, which makes the cocky smirk I wear shine a little brighter. Something fires in Ryder's eyes though. Amusement? It can’t be because everything radiating off of him screams hate.

He takes a step into me where I have to lift my head a little higher to look him in the eye.

“I don’t know why my father allowed you here, and I don’t really care. I will tell you, leaving here would be in your best interest; because even if I have to break, you to make it happen…you will be gone. You don’t belong here and you never will. Your tough act may work for you back home, but this isn’t home–you're on my side of town now, and I see through your bluff.” His hand comes up and brushes my hair behind my shoulder. He leans down so his lips graze ever so lightly across my cheek. Air hisses through my clenched teeth at the contact before his whispered breath hits my ear. “It’s going to be so much fun watching you break.”

He immediately steps back, returning to the party. My hand clenched at my side. Pissed off that my body betrayed me like that. Screw this guy.

Weston mumbles something along the lines of ‘this is going to be interesting’ before he looks back at me filled with delight. “Have a good night Ray.”

I lifted my chin in acknowledgement. Still bothered by my interaction with Ryder.

What the hell is that guy's problem, and why the hell does he get under my skin so badly?

If he doesn't want me here, then he needs to take it up with his father. I didn’t ask for this. I’m also not stupid and realize this is my only option. I march back inside and head to bed, praying Ryder Conway stays out of my way.