Page 77 of Bad Boy
His eyes are like twin pools of calm, undisturbed water before you throw a stone in and watch the ripples spread outward. And as soon as that happens, it’s chaos.
“Come on, man!” he shouts. The sound muffled around his mouthpiece. “What are you waiting for?” Remi motions toward himself with his gloves, and the other guy lunges.
It happens in less than three seconds. Remi delivers two quick jabs to his ribs, ending with a hard blow to the face. Probably harder than he should since they’re just sparring.
The guy stumbles back, clearly dazed, and trips into the rope. He gets tangled and bobs there awkwardly.
I can’t help it. That embarrassing, inappropriate laugh makes an appearance, and a huge giggle bubbles out of my throat.
I slap a hand over my mouth, my cheeks burning hot.
Remi’s laugh is a little unhinged as he calls for the next challenger. Ready for more.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Otto reprimands him, but I see the little smile on his face. He’s as impressed as everyone else.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
REMI
It’s Wednesday evening, and I’m standing on Lincoln’s doorstep with Mom and Gramps. I adjust the stupid skinny black tie around my neck, annoyed to be wearing one outside school. Apparently, Richard had a collection of new suits made for me while I was out of town last weekend. I can at least appreciate the fact that most of them are black, and they fit impeccably.
Lincoln’s mother, Diana, answers the door in a navy wrap dress and forced smile. Her hazel eyes track over all three of us, and I guess we pass her inspection.
“Hello. Welcome. Come in, please.” Short and clipped. Just like the tapping noise her stilettos make on the hardwood floor as we follow her into the formal living room.
Robert is pouring what appears to be three fingers of scotch at the bar cart and joins us from across the room.
He immediately shakes my grandfather’s hand with calculated enthusiasm. “Richard. So good to see you. It’s been too long. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No. No. I’m fine until dinner. Thank you.”
He looks to Mom next, who politely shakes her head no.
“I’ll take a scotch,” I chime in, figuring I’d give it a shot. This night would be a lot easier to handle if I could have a drink.
Lincoln’s dad laughs it off like I’m joking, but judging by the slight blush on Grandpa’s cheeks and Mom’s narrowed eyes, they know I’m not.
Gramps steps in, steering the conversation back to pleasantries. “It’s good to see you both, as well. Diana, you look lovely as always.” He hands the bouquet of wildflowers to Lincoln’s mom, who accepts them with another artificial smile.
“I know you’ve already met my grandson, Remington,” he says with a proud grin that makes me a little uncomfortable. Guess no one told him about the mix-up I had with the Andersons when we first met. If they want to move on and pretend it didn’t happen, fine with me.
“I’d also like to introduce my daughter, Raina.”
Apparently, Lincoln and Grady’s families moved into this strange littleneighborhoodfive years after Mom left, so they don’t know her. And I’m hoping that means they don’t know our fucked up family history, either.
Linc’s parents are a lot older than my mom. Let’s be real.Everyone’sparents are older than my Mom. So they politely accept the bottle of wine she gives them and attempt to engage in more small talk. Even though I’m pretty sure she’s feeling just about as out of place here as I am.
While they converse, my eyes scan the room, searching for the object of my obsession. They land on Grady and Sierra instead, perched on the edge of the living room couch. Both are equally dressed up as me—Grady in a charcoal gray fitted suit and Sierra in a simple, knee-length black cocktail dress.
Lincoln told me exactly who would be attending this intimate little dinner. So the tall, handsome man in a bespoke suit with blond hair and hazel eyes is none other than Sean Walker, the twins’ father. Their mother, Kendra, is dressed in a beautiful and respectful red pantsuit, complementing her golden brown skin and diamond jewelry. Her dark hair is pulled tightly into some fancy twist to match her daughter’s. They definitely look like a power couple, standing there casually sipping their drinks.
Lincoln strolls into the room then, looking dapper as ever. He joins me, standing close by my side. His classic navy suit fits him flawlessly. His auburn hair is parted and styled to the side like it was the first morning I met him. And he has the sexy black-framed glasses on again.
He looksgood. Really good.
“Hey,” he whispers, brushing his hand against mine.
“Hey,” I reply, lightly trailing a finger down the center of his palm in response. It’s getting harder and harder to remember why we haven’t moved this friendship into a relationship. But now isn’t exactly the time to figure it out.
