Bad Ride, Dani Wyatt [chromebook ebook reader .TXT] 📗

It all felt very Andy Griffith scripted, but I was too tired and distracted by the distinct feeling of Chewy’s cum dripping out of me. My panties were M.I.A. so I sat there listening to my dad chastise me, knowing I’d just taken the walk of shame commando style. He reiterated that he needed to be able to trust me. He has an educational conference tonight that will keep him overnight and he wants to be sure he can count on me to make good decisions while he’s gone.

There’s not enough Earl Gray tea in the world to make this all go away.

I gave most of my classes busy work through the day, staring out the window or grading the tests and essays from earlier in the week. When the final bell rung for the day, instead of spending a couple more hours on lesson plans and one-on-one student help, I packed up my purse, knowing at some point I had to stop by Chewy’s garage and both pay him for the work on my car as well as retrieve my backpack which I’d skated out without retrieving last night.

And, for whatever crazy reason, after my dad reading me the manifesto on staying away from Chewy—or anyone from the club for that matter—I want to come clean. I’ll tell my dad what happened, that I left something there at the garage, and also that I need to settle things with Chewy.

It’s not a conversation a want to have with my father but I also don’t want to lie. That’s never been in my wheelhouse before and steering away from my own core values, as uncomfortable as the conversation may be, would hurt my soul and it’s already pretty achy.

I know he’s here at the high school because he stopped by my classroom at lunch, letting me know he was working out of one of the conference rooms here today, and I had to believe it had something to do with keeping an eye on me.

I take the last few steps toward the door where I know he’s been throughout the day, a figure moving behind the white blinds, and I lean in, listening as I hear his voice. He’s on edge and I’m sure it’s because of me until I crouch down and hold my breath.

“I’ll be there by eight. I’ll be in my van, the parts will follow me in a yellow box truck. Two guys driving. You follow directions, black duffel bag, everyone walks away happy.”

I don’t know any educational conference where you organize rendezvous with a box van and a duffel bag.

“No, I haven’t gotten the new guy on board yet, he was a no-show last night, but I will. I have something he wants now, so he’ll come along. I just need a little more time. It’s all falling into place. I knew what he wanted, arranged for it to be dangled in front of him. He took the bait hard and now I’m just reeling him in.”

A chill traces down my spine as I scoot back against the solid cinder block wall and sidestep back around the corner into the hall.

Each breath takes effort as my dad’s words swim around in my head. I must be reading too much into it. I’m tired, I’m stressed, I’m sad.

No, not sad. My heart feels like it’s breaking and that makes me mad. How could I feel so much for someone I barely know? One quick wham bam and I’m pining away for the bad boy from the other side of the tracks?

Besides, he knows where I work, he could have sent flowers or an edible arrangement for goodness’ sake. Maybe just dropped off my backpack with a note, saying it’s not me, it’s him.

Fuck. This is getting messy.

I head toward the back hallway and into the parking lot. Looking at my mustang, I’m reminded of who I’ve tried to be my whole life for my father. Conservative, quiet, obedient, a hard worker.

He about lost his nut when I drove home in the car for spring break my junior year away at college. I’d saved for it since I was fourteen and started babysitting, dog sitting, fish sitting, then working at the local hair salon sweeping up and washing towels.

It was my visible statement of rebellion and it was in my name so he had no power and it fed me in a way I’d not experienced before.

As I start the engine, the low roar and rumble makes me feel powerful like I did last night when I let that rebellious part of me fly free with Chewy. But, the glow of the moment doesn’t last long as my eyelids burn, I drop my forehead to the steering wheel and my chest clenches as sobs choke and burst out of me, no matter how hard I try to fight them off.

My phone buzzes and I see the message from my dad making sure I’m headed home. I ignore it, put the car in drive and head in the opposite direction, out of town toward the Valor Club.

I don’t get far when I see a single headlight, flashing in my rearview. Then, the glint of chrome and vibrant cherry-red paint as the Harley pulls up next to my driver’s window pointed in the wrong direction in the oncoming lane of traffic.

He looks even bigger on his bike next to the car, and I see the way the muscles in his arms are tight as his jaw looks like it’s going to pop. At the stop light I roll down my window.

“You’re driving the wrong way. You’re going to hurt someone.”

“Yeah?” He brushes his hand down his beard his dark eyes hidden behind black sunglasses. “You should know something about hurting someone.”

My heart patters around as rocks tumble around in my gut. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I