Having Poster Boy’s eyes on me though makes it really hard to concentrate.
I flip to the second page of the paper and sneak a peek up at him.
His gaze meets mine, hard and cold, and I quickly glance down.
I wish he would just go to the bathroom or something…
Fuck, if only I had some laxatives. I bet that would do the trick.
Sighing, I lift my mug to my lips and take a sip when he suddenly says, “You know, the way you keep lookin’ at me is kinda creepy…”
I nearly choke on my coffee.
The way I’m looking at him is creepy?!
“Excuse me?” I sputter and cough.
Taking my response as an invitation to join me, he walks up to the table, grabs a chair and flips it around. Sitting down and straddling the chair, he rests his arms on the back.
“Yeah,” he drawls out and frowns. “It’s fuckin’ creepy. You keep lookin’ at me like you don’t know me.”
I cough a little more to get the rest of the coffee out of my lungs before I say, “That’s because I don’t know you."
He leans forward, eyes narrowing with disbelief. “Seriously?”
I narrow my eyes right back him, finding his question highly annoying.
How the hell would I know him?
“Seriously,” I say and look back down at the paper, done with this conversation.
“Wow,” he says, surprised, and lets out a low whistle between his teeth. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or not.”
Not caring one bit, I ignore him and flip to the next page.
The kitchen is blissfully quiet for a few moments, and even though I can still feel his eyes on me, my annoyance begins to die back down.
Then he asks, “You really don’t remember me, huh? The names Poster Boy or Luke don’t ring a bell?”
I clench my teeth together, the annoyance rising back up, and flip through to the next page, continuing to ignore him.
“In high school, we were friends. You were a cheerleader and I was on the football team…”
I close my eyes for a moment, my annoyance flaring so hot I can feel a headache growing behind my temples.
After taking a deep breath, I open my eyes and glance up at his face. Even though he’s annoying the hell out of me, there’s no denying the fact that his face is incredibly handsome. He’s not quite as handsome as Coy… But I can definitely see why they call him Poster Boy. All the required pieces that make a man handsome are there. Short blond hair, straight nose, and a bone structure that probably makes most models drool with envy.
I stare into his blue eyes, blue eyes that could melt panties if they weren’t so cold, and don’t feel even a flicker of recognition.
“Let me guess, you were the quarterback for the team?” I ask sarcastically.
“You do remember me!” he grins.
I shake my head and roll my eyes before I drop my attention back down to the paper. “No, actually, I don’t.”
He says, “Fuck…” like I just kicked his favorite puppy. “I’m really insulted now.”
And I could still care less.
“You’re the one who introduced me to Coy. You’re the reason I’m a Royal Bastard. Shit, you’re even the reason they call me Poster Boy.”
I clutch the paper and feel his words stabbing at my brain. What the fuck, does he not take a hint?
“Most people think it’s because of my handsome fuckin’ face,” he goes on. “But it’s not. It’s because of what you called me at the first Royal Bastard party you took me to. You seriously don’t remember?”
“I don’t remember,” I grit out at him, my head tightening with tension.
God, just the sound of his voice is starting to give me a migraine.
“You don’t remember callin’ me the poster boy for retroactive abortion after I said some of those sluts hanging around the clubhouse could benefit from some good ol’ female castration?”
Jesus Christ.
“I wouldn’t say that,” I gasp and look up at him in alarm.
But then again, thinking about it, maybe I would if he actually said that…
“You did,” he grins smugly, like he’s proud of it. “And Grem overheard it. It’s stuck ever since. Well, ever since I came back.”
He frowns and I shake my head in disbelief.
That weird feeling, the one that feels like I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone, starts to creep back in.
Is this real?
“Fuck, Allie, you were a really cool chick,” he sighs. “I missed you, and I know a lot of the other brothers missed you too.”
I roll my eyes again. He missed me? Me? Is he serious? And the other brothers too… Yeah, sure.
Knowing that’s he really pulling my leg now, I start to tune him out and work on finishing the rest of my coffee.
“Sure… you and Coy were kind of a joke at first. Miss Allison Stack, the daughter of Edward and Lorraine Stack, those hypocritical bible-thumpers building that megachurch over in Westport, getting corrupted by the dirty bikers…”
I nearly choke on my coffee again when he says my parent’s names and my heart starts to race.
Is he still messing with me? Is this some kind of sick game? There’s no way the other Allie’s parents had the same names. No fucking way.
“But you were nothin’ like your parents, and it was pretty fucking clear you refused to buy or sell their bullshit. When you kept stickin’ around and everyone started figurin’ out what the two of you had was real, it started to change the club. Fuck, the two of you were breathing new life into it. Watching you two was like watching our future king and queen. We were all just waitin’ for you to turn eighteen and make it legal. Shit, more than half of us were just as fucking excited as Coy. Even Hound, Coy’s old man, was. But then that fucking accident…”
I shove away from the table and stand, my heart racing so fucking fast I think I’m going to puke and have a heart attack at the same time.
What he’s saying is crazy… it’s fucking crazy…
And yet, I’m filled with this intense, almost all-consuming panic that it might be true.
He goes on, not missing a beat, even when my chair hits the floor. “It fucked us up. Fucked us up bad. I was there that night, at the party. I remember when everyone got word, the party fucking stopped and we all headed for the hospital. Horse was already fuckin’ dead, and even though he was a future brother, there was no reason to go for him. We all went there for Hound, for Coy, for you. And when you disappeared…”
I walk away, the buzzing in my ears so loud, I can’t make out whatever else he’s saying.
My head throbs, the pounding pain matching my racing heartbeats. And the panic is no longer almost all-consuming now, it’s completely consuming me.
I have to get out of here.
The walls are closing in on me and the floor is moving under my feet.
My eyes feel like they’ve disconnected from my brain and what they’re showing me is a broadcast on a screen, not what’s actually in front of me.
I have to get out of here.
It feels like I’m moving in slow motion as I walk up to Levi.
When I finally reach the couch, he tips his face up to look at me and smiles.