Page 7 of Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys 4)
That had always been good enough for me.
Dylan hugged Aubrey closer into his chest. Her back pressed up against him with her head tilted to the side, resting on his shoulder. Both of them watched the flames of the fire, lost in their own thoughts.
Dylan had started showing interest in the new girl, Aubrey two years ago, and to be honest, I was still dumbfounded by it. He was a bigger whore than I was. He pretty much chased her down until she finally gave in, challenging him to keep his dick in his pants for a month before she agreed to go on a date with him.
Theyâd been together ever since.
What once was a happy-go-lucky relationship turned into something volatile a few years later. Only proving to me that love was a bunch of fucking bullshit.
And Jacob, well⦠he was another story. One that I would learn soon enough, showing me how much of a hypocritical son of a bitch he really was.
Alex took a sip of her drink.
âTake it easy on that,â Lucas warned, his eyes still intently placed on us.
Alex wanted to forget, she wanted to rebel, she wanted to prove something to us, and thatâs why she was drinking in the first place. As much as I hated to admit it, Lucas was right. But I was the last person that had any right to tell her what to do, so I just grabbed the drink out of her hands and finished it off for her instead.
Yeah, Iâm a fucking hypocrite too.
âUgh,â Alex protested. âIâll just go get another one.â
She stood, losing her balance. Aubrey grabbed ahold of her.
âIâll go with you.â She knowingly winked down at Dylan.
Aubrey loved our Half-Pint, too. Her and Cole were both seventeen like me, and going into their senior year of high school as well. To be honest, I really liked Aubrey. She was good for Dylan, kept him on his toes and put up with all his bullshit. He was lucky to finally find someone who would. Aubrey was the best thing to walk into his life. They were meant to be together.
We watched them leave.
âYou alright over there, McGraw?â I asked Dylan who was gazing at Aubrey with the same yearning that Lucas displayed over Alex.
âJust fuckinâ peachy, brother,â he replied, shaking his head. âHow about you? How you holdinâ up? You ready to run this fuckinâ town without us?â
âBeen doinâ that since the day I was born.â
We all smiled.
âI know. I taught you well,â Jacob chimed in, cracking his neck.
I chuckled. Lucas still hadnât taken his stare off Alex. He wasnât paying us any mind.
âYouâre the last one left, Austin,â Dylan said out of nowhere, catching me off guard.
I turned from the fire to look at him, not sure where he was going with this.
âI know we all give you shit for being the youngest and you used to be the smallest. Come to think of it, there was a time I thought Half-Pint might be bigger than you.â He grinned.
âAsshole,â I muttered, holding back my own grin.
âBut you grew up,â he added with a sudden serious expression. âAnd youâre up, brother. Weâre not goinâ to be around, and Half-Pint is gonna need you now more than ever. Especially since this is her last year before sheâs really alone.â
I nodded, understanding.
âSheâs your responsibility. You watch out and take care of our girl,â Jacob added.
âOf course,â I vowed.
Jacob nudged my shoulder. âWonât be the same without you, bro.â
âAinât that the truth.â Dylan stood. âBut enough of this sappy shit, I feel like kicking someoneâs ass in a game of beer pong.â
âYouâre on, fucker,â Jacob challenged.
Dylan stopped in front of me to do our usual handshake, patting me on the shoulder. Jacob followed his lead and they left.
Lucas and I found ourselves sitting in uncomfortable silence for what seemed like a lifetime, staring at the flames and the sparks soaring up into the dark sky. There were no stars out; there was barely a moon. The wind blew all around us, mimicking the waves of the ocean. I immediately wondered if the boys would miss this.
It was all weâd ever known.
All I knew was that I wanted out of this town.
âYou know theyâre right,â Lucas declared, breaking the silence and bringing my attention back to him.
His intense stare hadnât wavered from Alex, who was giggling like a little girl, hanging all over Cole.
âSheâs drunk,â he stated, taking the words right out of my mouth.
I shook my head, taking a deep, long breath, not knowing how to reply.
âFuck,â he whispered to himself, bowing his head and running his hands roughly through his hair.
âLucasââ
âI didnât think it was going to be this fucking hard⦠leaving her. With you.â
âWe all love her. Just as much as you do.â
He peered up at me with a look I recognized and understood all too well.
I didnât falter. âIt was your choice to go away to college. No one put a fuckinâ gun to your head, ordering you to move to Ohio. Youâre leaving her⦠with me, because you chose to. So if thatâs eating away at your conscience, itâs no oneâs fuckinâ fault but your own.â
He scoffed. âThat girl over there," he gestured toward Alex, who was still draped over Cole, "is my fucking world, and donât you ever forget that," he roared through gritted teeth.
I chuckled, shrugging. âIâm not the one leaving her, Bo," I declared, adding fuel to the fire.
He jerked back like I had hit him. âTread carefully, Austin,â he sneered, standing, taking a step closer to me.
I stood too. We were a foot apart. It didn't matter that there were people everywhere around us, neither one of us backed down. For a few seconds in time we forgot that we were brothers, best friends, playing on the same damn team.
âGet the fuck out of my face, Lucas,â I cautioned through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, ready to knock him on his ass if needed. âSheâs better off without you here, but donât you worry, Bo. Iâll take care of our girl.â
âYou, son ofââ
âHeyâ¦â Alex wobbled, stepping in between us. âWhatâs going on?â she slightly slurred with a lazy smile.
I pulled her toward me before she fell, bringing her into my arms. She rested her head on my chest and wrapped her arms around me, sighing contently.
Lucas glared at me one last time before stepping back, surrendering his hands, placing some much-needed distance between us.
âWhere you going, Bo? Youâs not supposed to leave until tomorrows. I donât want you to leaves,â she jumbled; completely oblivious to what was going on with us.
âIâll always come back, Half-Pint.â Lucas backed away, pointed his finger in my direction and warned, âDonât fuck it up.â
Alex peered up at me, distracting me from Lucas. She had glossy eyes, rosy cheeks, and a sluggish smile. Obviously, having a hard time focusing on my face.
âYou changed, Austin,â she said out of nowhere, catching me off guard.
âHalf-Pintââ
âYou used to be such a nice boy. A very, very, very nice boy. Youâs not that boy anymore and that makes me sad.â
âAlex, youâre drunk.â
She slowly nodded. âI donât like new Austinâs. He uses girls and causes troubles. Thatâs not you. Not my boy. Brings him back.â She hugged me closer, her face pressed into my chest. âMmm kay?â
I kissed the top of her head. Looking over at Lucas who hadnât moved from the place he stood. Only confirming her boy was gone.
And he wasnât coming back.
Briggs
âOh, come on, Esteban! Just watch the movie with me," I coaxed, patting the couch next to me. âItâs Friday night, and we both know you donât have any friends,â I teased. âWhat are you going to do? Go hide out in your room? Come on, I know you want to. What guy wouldn't want to watch The Shining?â
He
raised his eyebrows.
âItâs almost Halloween. Iâm trying to get into the spirit. Hang your gun up and take a load off. See what I did there? Gun, load?â I wiggled my eyebrows.
He chuckled, shaking his head.
âMy uncleâs gone and who the hell knows when heâll be back this time. So, you donât have to play guard dog for me tonight. I ordered a pizza. I have popcorn, gummy bears, and snow caps,â I said, pointing to the assortment of snacks on the coffee table. âAll food groups. Plus, we donât have to go anywhere. Now sit down and watch the damn movie with me.â
He looked at me skeptically and then sat down on the other couch.
âWhen did you become so bossy?â
âPeer pressure. Iâm around my uncle all the time. Iâm far too sensitive," I stated, pulling my blanket over me and popping a gummy bear in my mouth.
He laughed, big and throaty. I smiled, biting my lip.
âWhy do you pretend you donât like to hang out with me? Iâm kind of a big deal.â
âIâm not your friââ
âYes, I know. Weâre not friends. You work for my uncle⦠yada, yada, yada, I got it. But," I paused for effect, âyouâre my bodyguard-slash-driver, so that means you work for me, too.â I grinned all proud of myself.
âWhen did you get so smart?â
âIt comes with age.â
âYouâre fourteen.â
I shrugged. âYeah, but Iâve been through a lot. Itâs kind of like dog years, so Iâm really like a hundred and something,â I explained, counting on my fingers.
âNinety-eight,â he answered.
âThatâs what I said."
The last few years had been uneventful, weâd all fallen into a comfortable routine, and I was thankful for that. God knows I had enough drama to last me a lifetime when I first moved in. I guess Esteban was right. Things did get easier as more time went by, I just hadnât figured out if that was a good or bad thing.
It had been two years since Iâd last changed schools. I wish I could tell you that I was happy staying in one place, but it didnât change the fact that I was alone. I hated school. I hated my teachers. I hated the students. Nothing about my life was normal. I had no parents, no friends, no one to talk to. I was around men and adults all the time, and I began to think that was maybe the reason I stopped trying to make any friends.
It was pointless.
I still read and wrote a lot. I spent most of my time with the fictional characters Iâd grown to love from the pages of my books.
But with age came wisdom or however the hell you say that⦠I knew my uncle was involved in some sort of shady-ass shit. I had a bodyguard who hardly let me out of his sight for more than a few minutes, and that was only when I had to use the bathroom or we were in the penthouse. There was also the fact that every man my uncle brought around, which seemed to be few and far between, were all packing heat.
Every. Last. One.
The pizza arrived shortly after I ordered it and Esteban insisted heâd go get it from the door. He set the pizza on the coffee table while I went and grabbed us some sodas. I smirked, nudging him with my shoulder when he moved to sit beside me, so that he was closer to the food.
No one warned me that The Shining wasnât your typical horror movie with a killer who was an actor dressed in costume and made up like Freddy Kruger or Jason. I was prepared for that. The storyline in this movie could actually happen in real life and that scared the absolute living shit out of me.
At one point, I jumped and screamed so loud that I pretty much ended up in Estebanâs lap. To tell you the truth, I wasnât even embarrassed about it. I even considered staying in his strong arms. Iâd known Esteban for eight years. As much as he reminded me that he wasnât my friend, a part of me knew that he was. It was just part of his job to tell me that he wasnât.
At least thatâs what I hoped for.
I was a young girl, a teenager well on my way to becoming a woman. It was easy to get lost in the romance fantasy that I read in my books and imagine real life being that way. Over the last few months, Iâd found myself thinking about Esteban in ways that I never had before, in ways that I probably shouldnât have.
But that still didnât stop me.
You couldnât blame me. Itâs not like I was around guys my own age. They steered clear of me as much as my uncle did. Esteban was handsome with blue eyes, tan skin, and dark brown hair. He was as tall, built, and muscular like my uncle and only wore suits like him too.
âWhat are you thinking about over there?â he asked, startling me away from my thoughts.
âMmm?â I replied, tearing my eyes away from the movie to look over at him, heat spreading across my checks.
âYou went from being scared to lost in thought.â
I narrowed my eyes at him and blurted, âShouldnât you be watching the movie instead of me?â
He cleared his throat and peered back at the TV.
âI donât know why I said that,â I whispered, loud enough for him to hear.
Esteban suddenly stood to leave. I knew what he was doing. He wanted to put some distance between us.
I shocked us both when I shouted, âNo!â Gripping his wrist, I held him in place.
He looked down at my grasp.
âPlease donât leave.â
Our eyes locked and I immediately let go.
âIâm tired of being alone, Esteban,â I admitted out loud for the first time. âI donât have any friends. I barely see my uncle. I have no one.â I shifted on the couch to face him. âI know you said youâre not my friend, but⦠that doesnât mean that I donât see you as one. Youâre the only person I have.â
He frowned. Esteban wore his emotions on his sleeve. I could physically see his heart breaking for me. I hardly knew anything about him, but for some reason I felt like I knew everything.
âDaisyââ
âBriggs. Why do you insist on calling me Daisy?â I questioned, surprised with the turn in events.
âItâs your name,â he simply stated.
âDaisy died the day she killed my parents. She doesnât exist anymore.â
He jerked back, stunned. âIt was a car accident. You had nothing to do with that.â
âI caused it.â
âThe driver in the other car caused it.â
I shook my head no. âThatâs not how I remember it.â
âYou had nothing to do with your parentsâ death. Do you understand me? Nothing,â he argued in a stern tone Iâd never heard before.
I stood, looking deep into his eyes, and spoke with conviction, âHave you ever killed anyone?â
Chapter 7
Austin
I had been staring at the letter on my desk all morning. It didnât look as pristine as it did three months ago. I donât know how many times I had folded and unfolded it. Reading the same lines over and over again, still not finding the courage to bring it up to my parents.
âIt is our pleasure to inform you that your application for admission to the School of Art and Design at Pratt Institute for the Fall Semester has been approved. We congratulate you on your acceptance and look forward to having you begin your professional studies at Pratt.â
I never in my wildest dreams thought I would get in. Not a chance in hell they would accept my application. I had known about Pratt, School of Art and Design, since I was a kid. Anyone with the kind of passion I had for drawing knew that this was the school to attend if you wanted a career in arts. They were the number one art school in the US, receiving thousands of applications. Getting in was a miracle itself.
My parents had been on my ass about college and applying to schools for months. I finally applied to a few, including Ohio State, just to get them off my ass. The truth was I didnât even want to go to fucking college, but Prattâ¦
That was different.
Being the number one art school, I thought maybe that bit of information would sway my parentsâ opinion on the subject. So I applied.
My GPA was decent, even though school wasnât really my thing. I had already started a portfolio of my drawings, years of adding sketches upon sketches into it. All I was required to do was send in my application with a few sketches, some letters of recommendation which my art teachers were more than happy to provide, and an application fee. I shoved my packet into the mailbox one morning before school and didnât give it a second thought.
I started to check the mailbox on a daily basis so I could intercept the mail from the schools I had no interest in attending. I would throw away the response letters without even opening them. I didnât care if I got in, I wasnât going to Stanford or Florida State or whatever other fucking school they made me apply to. I tried to voice my opinion, but I could never get a word in, and if I did, it went in one ear and out the other.
My parents werenât bad people, but they were overachievers. Always needing the best of the best and wouldnât settle for anything less. Out of all of our families, mine was the best off financially. My parentsâ had to have nice things. We lived in a big house in a high-end, gated community. They were VIP members at the country club. They had new cars every year. We went on expensive vacations.
The whole nine yards.
To me, they were just keeping up with the Jonesâ.
I couldnât tell you how many times the boys and Half-Pintâs parents fucked with my parents. Saying that they worked too much, that we didnât own our things, they owned us.
I knew at the end of the day they wanted what was best for me. Not thinking that maybe I already knew what that was. They were suffocating me and they didnât even realize it. In their eyes, everything was the way it was supposed to be.
Which was why I had been holding onto the acceptance letter for the last three months, debating on telling them. Praying every day that they would be supportive of my decision, even though I knew in my heart that they would shut it down. All my life I felt like my parents, the boys, and maybe even Alex, were all trying to mold me into something I wasnât.
Something they wanted me to be.
I never felt accepted, I never felt good enough, and thatâs what killed me the most. Thatâs what ate away at me, piece by piece.