Page 47 of The Rowdy Ones
I’ve barely been at this clinic long enough to have created rumors.
“My friend Renee, Angelica’s older sister, isn’t blind. She told me she’s seen you twice now in the parking lot with some guy who seemed a little rough with you.”
Heat floods to my cheeks and I wonder if there is anyone around to witness my embarrassment.
“That’s my brother,” I say curtly. “And he’s not rough with me. That’s just how he is.”
But apparently, people have a problem with Rowdy.
“Renee did say he was hot, though. Set me up. I like a good spanking every now and again.”
“Claudia!”
She cackles, the sound raspy and unique. “What? If you’re vouching for him being a good guy, I’m into it. Tell him I’m not a virgin. Iknowthings. Ooh, I can come spend the night with you and then sneak into his bed—”
We’re interrupted when some people walk past us, chattering loudly. I fumble for her and grab whatever part of her I can snag.
“You can meet him if you want, but he’s kind of shy. Plus, I think he has a girlfriend.”
“You think?”
“Uh, yeah. Lila.”
“Boo,” Claudia says with a huff. “Know any more guys? The ones around here are boring.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
We both snort with laughter.
I think we did just become best friends.
“What sort of adventure are we going on?” I ask, once settled in the passenger seat of Weston’s car. “You’re being so vague. Are you luring me out to the woods to kill me?”
The joke falls flat and I realize why as soon as I spit it out.
Someone was actually killed in these woods recently. I even thought it was my brother. Ugh. Awkward.
Weston reaches over and grabs my hand. “You’ll like it. I promise.”
I’m grateful he skips past my stupid joke. My phone alerts me to a text and I instruct it to play it.
Rowdy: why is he bringing you home i can pick you up I dont mind
I dictate what I want it to say and send to him. The only weird thing about having my phone play things out loud for me is that everyone around me can hear, which isn’t always ideal.
Me: I’m good. Talk to you later.
Once I stuff my phone back in my coat, Weston speaks up.
“So,” he says, drawling out the word. “We going to discuss what Mom thinks she upset you about?”
I cringe, not at all wanting to talk about that. Her words caught me off guard and frankly hurt. “She was out of line. I think she knows it.”
He’s quiet for a beat. “Are you going to elaborate or am I supposed to guess?”
“Are you going to defend her because she’s your mom?”
“Hell no. I know she can be overbearing. Figured you would want someone to talk about it with, though.”
