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Chapter 8

Fi

My palms tap away on the steering wheel in sync with my bouncing knee, my restlessness and anxiety showing their telltale signs of being in uncharted waters, something that I’m not exactly thrilled about.

I should have probably waited for Stone inside the bar. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do, especially considering she came on my lap just this morning. It’s not like I didn’t try to be chivalrous and shit. I mean, I did go inside. The thing is, when I looked around the dump, filled to the brim with guys eye-fucking her, there was no way I was going to handle it well. Besides, the lingering smell of puke and cum had my ass wanting to hightail it out of there anyway.

So I did the cowardly thing and just texted that I was outside waiting for her in my car. Good thing too, since last time I was here it was in Easton’s truck, instead of my precious baby like tonight.

Easton could replace his truck easily enough if some Southie fucker decided to take it for a spin. My Porsche, however, is a whole other story. My father would crack my skull in if he found out it was stolen because I decided to slum it out in the worst part of town on a Friday night. Yeah, that conversation wouldn’t go down so well with my old man.

‘You’re being a conceited, pompous prick,’ I hear Easton’s voice bellow in my ear. Not that he’s here to give me his opinion on the matter, but it’s a safe assumption that’s what the asshole would say if he were. And maybe he’s right. Just because some criminals live on the other side of the tracks doesn’t mean that everyone here is a felon. I mean, look at Stone. She’s hardworking, keeps her nose clean, and she’s a Southie through and through. If I think about it, the Northside has plenty of bad apples, even though we play it off like our shit doesn’t stink. Take me, for example, no one would ever think I was involved in a fucking double homicide, but here we are.

Here we fucking are.

I stare at my phone for the umpteenth time and see it’s well past midnight. Stone said her shift ended at midnight on the dot—like a misfit Cinderella of sorts—so what is taking so long for her to get her fine ass out of that pigsty and into the leather seat of my car?

Hmm.

She’s probably freshening up and making herself beautiful for our first date.

I feel a pull of my lip curve upward with the thought of her taking all this time just to look good for me, but that idiotic notion is quickly crushed into smithereens. When I hear her voice holler goodnight to some drunkards slouching on the wall outside of the bar, I establish she looks exactly the same as she did when I saw her inside earlier.

Not that she doesn’t look good. Fuck, in those short shorts, it’s impossible for her not to. But still…

I don’t know why I’m disappointed, though. Maybe I thought she was going to put on a sexy-ass dress for me or something. I roll my eyes at myself in a

“Nice ride,” she says with a sarcastic, over-the-top whistle, before slamming the car door like a garden gate.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“So? Where are we going?”

“Hmm. I thought you’d have an idea.” I shrug.

“You’re kidding me, right?” She snaps her neck to me in outrage.

“Hey, its midnight. No. Hold up. It’s actually a quarter to one.” I poke at the time on my phone screen for good measure. “Not many places I can take you, sweetheart.”

Furious with my reply, Stone looms her open palm right over my face, and I sink in my seat, ready for the tongue lashing she’s going to give me.

“First things first, don’t ever call me sweetheart again without expecting me to kick your junk in return. Secondly, this hanging out thing was your brilliant idea. The least you could have done was think of a place to take me, asshole,” she lashes out, unamused with my lack of plans.

She’s right. I know this is all for show, but I should have had a game plan for tonight. I mean, something that will be fun for her while putting up with my sorry ass. Lord knows, when all this goes to shit, she’ll be left with a bad aftertaste thinking about the time she spent with me. The least I could do is make a genuine effort for her to be entertained. Maybe even give Stone some good memories to remember me by, since I’m positive she’ll have plenty of bad ones in the near future.

Not that I care about that.

Stone is a mark. A hot, sexy-as-sin mark, but a mark just the same. Still, it wouldn’t kill me to show up as she deserves, now would it?

I lean my head on the headrest and stare into her pissed-off silhouette.

“I’m sorry, Stone. You’re right to be mad. But I told you this morning that I’m not good at these things. It’s not like I do this all the time. Just be patient with me while I try to work out the kinks, okay?”

I watch her fury lose a little bit of its steam, her cute nose scrunching in contemplation. She turns her whole body in my direction, those soft, red lips creating the most beautiful frown that could ever have graced her face.

“What do you mean? Like date?” Her brows pinch together suspiciously.

“Yeah, date. It’s not like I’m known for taking girls to the movies or fancy di

She tilts her head, scrutinizing my every feature, as well as each honest-to-God word that just spilled from my lips. Once she comes to terms that I’m telling her the gospel’s truth, she slumps back into her seat with her eyes fixed on the hood of the car.

“You curse too much,” she finally says after an infernal, pregnant pause.

“Sorry,” I mumble in defeat, turning my own body forward in my seat.

“No, Fi

“Oh.”

I poke my tongue to my i

Fuck it. Here goes nothing.

“It’s from being with guys all the time. The cursing, I mean. You know… football banter, locker room talk, and all that nonsense. Plus it doesn’t help I’m also the youngest of three boys. There has always been a lot of cursing at my house. It’s all the testosterone, I guess.”

“I bet your momma loves that,” she chimes in, and a flicker of hope springs free when I see her lip twitch in amusement.

“No, Ma’am. I wouldn’t dare cuss in front of my momma. Not if I didn’t want to get slapped upside the head for it. Or worse, have her clean my mouth with a bar of soap. I’ve seen her do it, too. My brother Calvin was burping soap suds for weeks after blurting out ‘shit’ in front of her, and he was already married at the time.”

The melodic laugh that ensues from the girl next to me makes my heart skip a few beats. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Stone laugh, and surprisingly enough, it gives her such a youthful glow that it takes me by surprise a little. I don’t know if it’s her hard, mean exterior or the piercings and tattoos, but her laugh reminds me that she’s just a girl, barely in her twenties, on the brink of starting her life. There’s still so much i