“Okay, so wait.” Brady snaps me out of my thoughts. “Why is Grayson being back a bad thing?”
I lie down on the floor and stare at the ceiling. “Because he hates me.”
“How could anyone hate you? Especially someone you used to be so close with. Are you sure you’re not just misreading the situation? Maybe he’s just shy.”
Snorting, I shake my head. “No, B. He’s anything but shy. He literally hates me. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under with him pissing on my grave by now—and he’s only been back a couple days. I just don’t get it. I don’t know what I did.”
He sighs. “I don’t know, babes. If I know you as well as I think I do though, I’m sure you’ll find out. You’re Savannah Montgomery. Since when do you take shit from anyone?”
“Grayson’s different. He’s like the definition of every good childhood memory I have. My own personal kryptonite. He has the ability to ruin me, and he knows it. It’s dangerous.”
Brady looks down at me and smiles. “Well then it’s a good thing danger stopped scaring you years ago.” He gets up and offers me his hand. “Now, come on. We’ve got a routine to nail.”
LATER THAT EVENING, BRADY drives me home. As we pull up in front of the house, I notice all the bikes and crappy cars parked outside—Dad has “friends” over. I cringe, knowing how drunk he gets when he has people drinking with him. Last time he had them here, I damn near broke a guy’s fingers for trying to slip his hand up my uniform skirt.
“Do you want to sleep at my place? Jake won’t mind,” he offers, but I shake my head.
“Thank you, but no. I have an essay to write, so I’m going to lock myself in my bedroom and focus on that.”
He nods in understanding. “Okay, well, remember the self-defense moves I taught you, and call me if you need anything. I can get here in ten minutes if I ignore all traffic laws.”
I smile. “And that’s why I love you.” Reaching over, I give him a tight hug. “Bye, B.”
“Later, Rocky.” Just as I’m climbing out of the car, he stops me. “And Sav? I’m sure everything with Grayson will work itself out in time.”
“Thanks. I hope so.”
As soon as I open the front door, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke is so strong I nearly choke on it. My father and a bunch of his scumbag friends fill the living room. They’re watching some stupid show on TV that’s meant to be funny, but isn’t. Bottles of booze are already covering the coffee table.
The second I walk in, all eyes turn toward me. I’m thankful I wore yoga pants over my leotard today instead of the booty shorts I’m usually in. My father perks up at the sight of me, then instantly starts digging in his pocket.
“Savannah! Good you’re home.” He takes $40 out of his wallet. “Be a good girl and run down to the liquor store for me. I need more vodka.”
I roll my eyes. “Dad, I’m seventeen.”
“Oh.” His face drops, then he waves me off and shoves the cash in my hand anyway. “Well, go anyway. You look old enough to drink. Show a little skin if you have to.”
Instead of arguing, I slip my hands into my sweatshirt pocket and head out the door. I go a couple doors down, to a house I really don’t like coming to unless absolutely necessary, and knock. A few seconds later, Knox comes to the door. He’s completely shirtless, with all his tattoos full on display. I notice the hickeys on his neck and chuckle as a girl slips past us to leave.
“Classy,” I say with an eye roll.
He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”
“I’m sure you are.” I smirk and slip inside. “I need a couple empty bottles of vodka. You got some?”
He looks confused, but goes over to his recycling bin and pulls out two. I take them from him and head to the sink, filling each one to the brim with water. My father is too drunk to know the difference anyway, and maybe it’ll hydrate him some. Knox watches my actions with amusement.
“You don’t think he’s going to notice that’s not really alcohol?”
“Nope. I could convince him sugar is cocaine right now. He’s too drunk to tell.”
He nods. “Sounds like a party.”
Not wanting to stay and make small talk, I make my way back toward the front door. “Thanks for the bottles, shithead.”
“No problem, Princess.”
It only takes a couple minutes to get back and as soon as I walk in, my father grabs the bottles from my hands. “See? You are good for something.”
One of his friends looks me up and down. “I’m sure she’d be good for something else, too.”
My dad laughs, despite the fact that this creep is hitting on his underage daughter. I ignore them completely and go straight to my room, locking the door behind me and barricading it with a chair against the knob, just in case those perverts get any sick ideas while I’m sleeping.
I take the money out of my pocket and slip it in the envelope labeled “bills.” Then, I put headphones on and drown them out with the beautiful sound of Ed Sheeran. Placing my school-issued laptop on my bed, I place my fingers on the keys and get to work on my essay.
THE NEXT MORNING, I’M already in a bad mood. My father and his idiotic friends managed to break a window last night, and there were two major altercations where bottles were shattered. Needless to say, I got practically no sleep at all.
I’m quiet as Brady drives me to school, drifting in and out of sleep in the passenger seat. He tells me to have a good day, like a caring big brother, and I make my way into the building. When I get to my locker, Carter looks me up and down.
“Late night with the boy toy?” he inquires, only half joking, but I don’t give him an answer. If they want to think that’s why I’m so exhausted, so be it. It’s better than the truth.
The bell rings, but as I go to walk to class, Grayson steps in front of me, blocking my way. Some of our friends stop to wait, but he gives them a look that makes them all walk away. So much for loyalty.
I watch him expectantly, too tired to argue, but he doesn’t say anything. Once the hallways are empty, he spins us and pins me to the lockers. My back slams against the cold, hard metal as his hand wraps around my neck.
“Does your boyfriend know what a fucking liar you are?” he spits. The anger seeping out of him is evident as I pull at his wrist.
“I’m not a liar, and I haven’t done anything to you. Get off me!”
A low growl emits from the back of his throat. “Sweet Savi, always playing the victim.”
“Don’t call me that.” I try to maintain my composure, but everything coming out of his mouth has the potential to break me. “If you don’t like me, fine. Just leave me alone.”
He laughs darkly. “That’s the thing, I don’t just not like you. I despise you, and I’m going to make sure you know just how much.”
Putting a little more pressure on my neck, he pushes himself away from me and walks toward the classroom, leaving me panting, and for the first time in my life, wondering if Grayson Hayworth has the potential to literally kill me.