Page 22 of When You Stayed
“Any reason it would suddenly be popping up on club members’ algorithms?”
She yanked her cell from her back pocket, a confused expression stamped on her face. “Seriously… What the hell are you talking about?”
She must have been truly confused because she didn’t even snap at me when I moved next to her shoulder to see what she was pulling up. In the search bar of her app, she typed a few ideas, which included terms for the underwear ad, and “girl in underwear” but she never came up. She tried again using the brand she’d done the ad for, and again, she was nowhere to be found.
I gently took the phone from her and typed in the search bar “biker babe underwear.”
And the first video was her.
Fuck me, this video would be ingrained in my head forever. In the video Royce looked sun-kissed, which complemented her bright eyes and blond hair so nicely that she practically glowed. Her makeup was a bit heavy, but they’d made her lips this pinkish color that I would unfortunately imagine smeared all over my cock when I gripped it at night.
“I don’t get it,” Royce mused, clicking on the video and watching it play.
I most certainly got it. I wished so badly I didn’t, but my God, I did.
She wore a pink thong that stretched high up on her hips, with a low-cut cropped shirt. It was more of a bra with ample cleavage, and it was see-through, showing peaked, rosy nipples. Below her breasts, the pink fabric went to just above her belly button, showcasing her ribs and abs. She did a little jump in the video which madeher tits bob and then the video transitioned so she was standing in front of the camera with her ass bouncing.
Her manicured nails, which were painted the same color as her thong, lightly pulled up on the fabric that slid up through her crack and spread into a T across her lower back. Her hair bounced in soft, glossy curls against her tan skin, but my eyes fell to her ass. Her perfectly smooth, round?—
“What the fuck is that?” My voice was practically gravel as I stared at the black tattoo on her right cheek. Even though I’d heard them mention it, it was different actually seeing the skull with roses budding from the eyes that made up our patch.
Royce probably rolled her eyes based on how blasé her tone was when she replied, “It’s a tattoo.”
“Royce, it’s not just a tattoo, it’s the Stone Rider patch. You didn’t think that might be a bad idea when shooting this ad? Since when do you get real tattoos? I thought you only did the temporary ones.”
She lowered her phone to glare at me. “First of all, this was never supposed to go anywhere but their website. I never agreed to them sharing on their socials. Second, the team loved that I had it along with a few other tattoos. They thought it would make my modeling stand out. Third…what the hell are you talking about? It sort of sounds like you don’t really know me very well, Ford. Which tracks since you’ve barely said two words to me over the past ten years.”
Something sharp stabbed at my chest, nearly making me inspect the truth in what she’d just said. Instead of giving into it, I brushed past it. “Well, you certainly stand out, Royce, but that’s never been a problem for you, has it?”
Her brows tugged in closer as she tucked her phone back into her jeans. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I wasn’t even really angry with her. I was angry at the fact that she’d always been this person so elusive and out of reach to me, and yet the whole damn world seemed to access her so easily. “Weren’t you all worried about me causing drama for the club by stepping into the president’s role? Yet, you’re out here, literally showing your ass for the whole fucking world to see, and on it you have a neon sign pointing toour goddamn club. Jesus, Royce, do you ever think through a single situation?”
Her lip wobbled the smallest amount, but she lowered her chin almost as if she didn’t want me to see it.
“Again, you don’t fucking know me, Ford. You’re referencing things that happened when I was a teenager. You’re assuming I don’t get tattoos and talking about how I don’t want to grow up. Get a grip, Ford. I am grown, you just weren’t invited to be a part of it any of it, so you made up all these assumptions about me.”
Humiliation was that thing poking at my chest, I could see that now. She was right, but her comment about how I’d not been invited to be apart of her growing up was too painful for me to humble myself. “You expect me to believe that? You do float around life in a bubble, Royce. No real consequences. Daddy will clean up every mess you make. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it will always be. You don’t deserve that promotion but I’m sure you’ll get it because you’re Royce Quinn and you get whatever the fuck you want.”
Despite feeling I had gone too far, I couldn’t seem to stop. I knew it for certain though when her hand came up swift and firm as it flew across my face. I’d missed that she’d started crying, and fuck, that actually hurt to see.
“Fuck you, Ford.”
Her head shook back and forth, but she said nothing else.
That hidden, jagged chunk in my heart tugged and tugged, trying to pull out that guilt and the concern I’d once had for her. They were feelings I had battled with my entire life—ones she so carelessly toyed with. I’d care that I hurt her now if she cared how badly she hurt me back then.
What mattered now was keeping her safe, and at this juncture there was only one way to do that. “I need you to stay away from the club.”
Her chin wobbled the smallest amount before her face finally fell and her hair slid in front of her. She remained like that for a few seconds before she lifted it again, as if she’d become determined.
“Maybe I’ll become a bunk bunny or a Sweetbutt.” Her shoulder lifted. “I like them. They’ve always been nice to me. I’ll stick withthem. I can be here, and I don’t care if they talk about my video, those women will protect me. They watch out for their own.”
The image of her waking up in Johnson’s or Kody’s bed, with tousled hair, smudged eyeliner from being fucked all night…it practically ripped that buried chest out of its proverbial grave, and whatever I’d been so careful to conceal was now exploding inside my chest.
“You’ll just start sleeping with random members?” My eyes narrowed, hoping to intimidate her, but she smiled in return like what I had said was a great idea.
“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet, but the point is, you can’t tell me what to do. Neither can my dad or anyone else. I don’t think I should have to stay away simply because men can’t control themselves. What happened when I was seventeen wasn’t my fault. That man was at fault. I should be allowed to exist in these spaces without fearing that I’ll be abused or harmed. Sorry if that creates work for all of you, but I’m going to do what I want to do because I don’t cater to men or their needs. I cater to my own.”
