Page 19 of Flock
I can’t help my bite.
“What happened to her?”
“No one really knows, and no one has heard from her in months. That boy broke her heart so bad she rarely comes home anymore.”
She pulls her cell phone from her pocket, darting her eyes around because phones are forbidden on the plant floor. She scrolls through before she lifts up a picture. It’s from a social media profile, and the girl displayed on the screen is gorgeous. I tell her as much.
“She was the pride of my cousin, but once he got his hooks into her, she changed. I don’t know.” She glances over her shoulder. “Those boys, pretty as they are, I think might have the devil inside them.”
From my first and second impressions, I find it hard to believe that’s true of Sean, but Dominic might be a different story.
As wrong as it may be, I sidle up to Melinda for the rest of the shift, suddenly in the mood for conversation.
Chapter Seven
Back aching from long hours on my feet, I unlock my car and practically fall into the seat, turning on the AC to get out some of the humidity in the interior. Tilting the vents my way, I let the warm sticky air dry on my face before I pull my phone from my purse and see I missed a text from Christy. I can’t help my smile when I see I also missed one from Sean.
Sean: Come to the garage. I’ll ping you.
It’s been a long day. I think I’ll just go home.
Sean: Bullshit. You can sleep in tomorrow. Pizza’s on
me.
Sean pings me the location and I weigh my fatigue against the rush of seeing him again. Decision made, it takes me ten minutes to get there, and when I pull up, I’m shocked by the size of the garage. Next to a glass-enclosed lobby are six bay doors, the largest at the end, I assume for commercial machine repairs. It’s nothing like I imagined. A few of the cars I saw at the party sit outside in a large lot. Stepping out of my car, I hear music blaring from the other side of the dented bay doors. Clearly, business hours are over, with little sign of life inside aside from a dim light in the lobby. As I approach, an unmistakable smell invades my nose.
These devil boys are smoking “the weed”.
I giggle as I take down my hair and run my fingers through it. There’s absolutely nothing to be done about my uniform. I approach the door to knock and see Dominic on the other side of the double-paned window with a King’s Automotive logo in bold, shielding much of the glass. The sight of him stops my curious footing as I drink him in. A lock of dark hair cascades over his forehead as he furiously clicks the side of the mouse on his computer underneath a stuttering yellow light, a lit joint between his perfect lips, and an open beer next to his monitor.
His lashes are so thick. I can see them dancing over his high cheekbones from feet away. He’s a fucking marvel to look at. His broad chest is cloaked in a grey T-shirt with the brand logo along with a few grease spots that trail down to his dark jeans. I can’t see this man looking bad in anything. Studying his hands, I imagine the damage they could do or the pleasure they could give. As if he can sense me watching, he looks up, and our eyes meet.
Bang.
It’s a shot right to the chest, and my blood pumps overtime to keep up with the oxygen I’m now deprived of.
He studies me just as intensely for a few seconds before he moves toward the door. Jerking it open, he stares down at me, his expression unreadable, the joint hanging loosely from his lips when he speaks.
“What are you doing here?” His voice is slightly raw, as if he’s been yelling all day and then had a hot shot of whiskey after.
“I was invited.”
“Allow me to uninvite you.”
“Why?”
He blows a plume of smoke from his lips, and I turn my head to avoid it.
“You don’t belong here.”
I’m not leaving. That much I know. Thinking on my feet, I pluck the joint from his lips and pinch it between my fingers. His eyes deaden as I take a timid pull on it, fanning my hand repeatedly to get the rest of the smoke away from me as quickly as possible.
“This tastes ...” I inhale, “fucking awful.” I choke, and cough on my exhale.
His lips quirk slightly before the smile is gone. “That’s because you’re trying to be someone you’re not. You can’t stay, Cecelia.”
“I won’t drink.”
