Page 70 of Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 2)
“Sounds like you’re still asking,” I manage to choke out. Aaron wraps an arm around my waist and scoops the other underneath my knees, lifting me up into his arms like I weigh nothing at all. My breath escapes in a rush as I weave my arms around his neck.
“Stay out of the bathroom for a while,” he announces, loudly enough that everyone in that room hears him. “And if you think you can quite literally catch me with my pants down, I’m packing a .22 in my boot.” Aaron sweeps me toward the bathroom, kicking the swinging door in and setting me down on the counter.
My heart throbs painfully in my chest as he sweeps the stalls, checking to see if there’s anyone else in here besides us.
There’s not.
And there’s no lock on the door, but you’d have to be a total idiot to disobey a direct order from Havoc. You know, like Kali Rose or something. Queen of the morons.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask, and Aaron shakes his head.
“Luckily, we’re not far from South Prescott,” he teases, grinning at me and running his hand over his beautiful chestnut hair. “No condoms on me—I’m not goddamn Hael or anything—but I do have quarters.” He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his faded leather wallet and dumping several quarters into his palm. Aaron puts them into the dispenser on the wall, twisting the knob until a single condom falls out into the tray. Usually, you only see this sort of shit at, like, truck stops in the middle of nowhere or something, but like Aaron said: we’re close to South Prescott, the worst neighborhood in the city of Springfield, Oregon.
For once, I’m a little excited about that.
“If you really are pregnant,” Aaron says, pausing in front of me and leaning forward to put his face near mine. He puts a hand on either side of me, pressing our foreheads together, just like we did the other day, just like we did when we were kids … just like we did when we fucked in tenth grade that one time. “Then we’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you, if that’s what you want.”
“You’d raise another man’s kid?” I ask, certain that I’d visit a Planned Parenthood before I’d become a teen mom, but still …
“Well, this wouldn’t be another man’s kid,” Aaron says with a cocksure smirk. “It’d be a Havoc kid.” He kisses me hard on the mouth and I spread my legs to welcome him close. We press our bodies together, and this surge of need takes over me. It clings to my skin, heavy and sticky, as I frantically tear at Aaron’s shirt, trying to get it over his head. “Bern,” he groans, biting my lower lip and reaching over his shoulder with one hand. Aaron grabs the white tee in his fingers, breaking our kiss just long enough to rip it off and toss it aside.
My fingers play with his belt as our tongues slide together, like two slashes of heat, probing, digging, trying to stir up memories and create new ones, all at the same time.
“Aaron …” His name slips from my lips without my even meaning it to. Tears sting my eyes, and I do my best to swipe them away before he can see. Aaron stops me by grabbing my arm with gentle fingers. With his other hand, he reaches up to swipe away a single teardrop with his thumb. “Cut the sentimental crap,” I snap, but … that’s because my anger is a defense mechanism.
We all have them, me and the Havoc Boys.
“I can’t decide if I’d rather taste your cunt or look into your eyes,” he murmurs, putting his forehead to mine. It’s a racy statement, but it’s said with such affection that I’m not really sure what to do. “I could spend all day worshipping your body, Bern. I want to get to know you all over again, search you until I could map every inch, every tattoo, every scar.”
I suck in a sharp breath as he drops his hands to my jeans, popping the button and unzipping the fly.
“I’d like that,” I start, feeling that strange rawness in my soul again. Aaron is like an antidote for bullshit. He looks at me like I’m not wearing a leather jacket, like I’m not tattooed, like my tough-as-nails persona isn’t a shield against him the way it is for everyone else. He can see past it all, right into the soul of his first love, his first time, his … girl. “Just maybe not in a public restroom, okay?”
Aaron laughs, and the sound is easily the most genuine of all the boys. His girls have given him that gift, allowed him to keep true joy in his heart somewhere. It might be just a pinprick in the black cavern that makes up his chest, but it’s there nonetheless.
