dash

It’s the middle of December. It’s freezing outside and everyone’s back in town for the holidays, infiltrating the local spots. That explains why I’ve been sitting in this shitty corner booth instead of my regular spot at the bar. I’m not here because I’m working tonight. No, I’m here because I’m waiting for my best friend, Mason, to finish his shift so I can drive him to the airport.

His kid sister, Evie, is due in tonight for winter break. Since Mason wrapped his truck around a tree last week, I’m on the hook to pick her up. It might make me a douche, but I never would have agreed if his mom hadn’t been the one to ask.

Evie’s a pain in my ass and has been since I was twelve.

My mom and I moved here after my dad went to prison. Once she knew he wasn’t getting out, she wanted a fresh start so we moved here to do just that. Mason’s mom was one of my teachers my first day. Noticing I had a hard time with my work, she talked me into staying after school for tutoring and that’s how I met Mason.

We’d become friends in his mom’s classroom, her tutoring me and him waiting for her to finish so they could go home. Later, he’d begun tutoring me in math as well, which his mom still swears is what drove him to become a teacher.

I’m not sure I believe my trouble with fractions was the life-altering reason for his career path, but I do know there’s not much I wouldn’t do for Mason and his mom.

Which explains why I’m stuck grumbling in the corner booth of the bar waiting on his longtime takin’ ass to go pick up my nemesis from the airport.

Because of the long hours my mom spent supporting me, I’d spent more nights at Mason’s house than my own over the last decade and a half. Our mothers were close and quickly, our family became an extension of theirs. Holidays, weekends, they were all spent with the Kings and never once did we feel out of place.

For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a family and it was almost perfect.

Almost.

The only dark spot in my time with them was Mason’s sister, Evie. From the first time I met her, she’d left a bad taste in my mouth. She was loud, complained constantly and a spoiled little brat.

Granted, I haven’t seen her in a couple of years. Last year, she spent her break with some loser and the year before, I was up north with my ex, but the fact remains that Evie and me? We’re not cool. Never have been, never will be.

I only put up with her shit for Mason’s sake.

Speaking of Mason, he was due off an hour ago, yet here I sit while he makes googly eyes at some blonde who looks like she’s got the IQ of my ex-girlfriend’s poodle. My phone vibrates in my hand and I glance down to find a message from his mom, Donna, who’s become like a surrogate to me since mine passed a couple years ago.

Have you boys left to get Evie yet? Mason won’t answer me. -Donna

Fuck.

Draining the last of my club soda from the glass, I stand and make my way over to where he’s leaned over the bar, his bottom lip jutting out for sympathy.

“It hurts real bad,” he whines toward the blonde, making me roll my eyes. “You gonna fix me up, sweetheart?”

“Oh, yeah, baby,” she croons, her eyes flitting over the bandage on his forehead as she leans in closer, smacking obnoxiously on her gum. “I’ll make it all better for you.”

“Come on, man. We gotta go,” I interject, earning a deadpan from Blondie and a dopey grin from Mason. “Donna’s texting me.”

“Wait, Donna?” Blondie pulls away, looking between us before the scowl settles over her face. “Baby, who the hell is Donna?”

“His mommy,” I grin, pulling at his elbow and moving to haul him away. “Say goodnight, lover boy.”

“Dude,” he cuts me off, pulling away. “Do you not see me talking to someone?”

“Yeah,” I nod, unimpressed. “She seems like a real winner.”

“Whatever,” he shakes his head, releasing a sigh of frustration. “That girl’s hot and you know it. You’re just pissy ‘cause you’ve been fuckin’ your hand for a month.” He’s not wrong. I’m considering that much when his hushed voice breaks my frustrated thoughts. “Come on. This chick is stacked and I’m about ten minutes away from closing the deal. Don’t be a cockblocker, dude.”

“There’s that fancy education paying off,” I smirk. “I’m not being a cockblocker, but your mom’s texting me and she’s trippin’ the hell out. We were supposed to leave like twenty minutes ago to pick up Satan.”

“Fuck. I forgot about Evie,” he hisses, glancing down at his feet while I throw a couple bucks down on my table. “Dash…”

“What?” I ask, turning to find him smirking up at me, his lip jutting out again and making me shake my head. “No. No fuckin’ way…”

“Dashy Boy,” he cuts me off. “Come on, man. I’d do it for you.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” I counter. “I asked you last weekend to cover my shift when I was sick and you told me to eat your nuts.”

“Which I now regret,” he says solemnly, making me laugh. “Come on, dude. Seriously. I swear I’ll owe you one,” he continues, reaching for his wallet. “Here, I’ll even pay for the gas.”

“You already said you were giving me gas money.”

“Oh, Dash. You’re adorable,” he smirks, pulling a twenty out. “We both know that was never going to happen.”

“You’re the worst best friend ever,” I shake my head, yanking the twenty from his hand and pulling my jacket on. “I hate your fuckin’ guts, Mase.”

“You love the fuck outta me.”

“Shut up. You owe me five favors for this shit.”

“Fine.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious, Mason,” I insist. “She’s gonna bitch the whole fuckin’ way back. You owe me five favors. Evie sucks.”

“Hey, watch it!” he warns. “That’s my sister, man. Don’t say she sucks.”

“Whatever. You better hope Blondie does,” I gesture toward his date with a smirk. “You’re gonna be paying me back for this shit for a while.”

 

 

evie

I should have known when my mom said Mason was picking me up, I’d be left standing in the cold for at least an extra forty-five minutes. As a teacher, he’s great. As a brother, he’s amazing, but his timing has never been either.

Checking the clock on my phone again, I roll my eyes and quickly exit the screen, cringing at the picture for the third time today as I take a seat on the top of my luggage.

“May as well nip this in the bud while I’m good and bitter,” I whisper to myself, searching my gallery for anything that doesn’t remind me of the lying douchebag I’d just wasted the better part of a year on.

Between my full course load and my blindness to the ridiculous excuse for a relationship, I’m quickly reminded of just how lame my social life had been all year as I flip through the images. They’re all of me and Mike, the guy who only hours ago became my ex after I found him fucking my best friend and roommate when I went back to grab the forgotten boarding pass I’d left on my nightstand.

I’d only been gone half an hour.

After a ten-minute tongue lashing filled with vengeful threats directed toward them both, I swallowed my heartache and humiliation, gripping the handle on my rolling luggage and slamming the door behind me.

I hadn’t even made it to the still waiting cab before the tears began to fall.

Thanks to my recent twenty-first birthday and the in-flight drink service, I was all cried out before the seatbelt sign was turned off.

Thank God I’ve only got one semester left before I graduate.

I shake my thoughts clear, deleting images in my phone faster than you can say cheating fucker. I’d just replaced my background with an old picture of my daddy, the only man aside from my brother Mason who’d never broken my heart, when the sound of a blazing horn pulls my attention.

“Oh, fuck my life!” I groan.

Just when I thought today couldn’t get much worse, I look up to see the top of his head disappearing as he jumps down from the driver’s side of his truck.

I haven’t even seen his face yet and already, I want to punch it.

Dash. Fucking. Hunter.

I can’t stand that prick.

“Door’s unlocked,” he calls out, not bothering to look at me as he hits the latch on the tailgate, releasing it and reaching for my bag.

I’m in the process of sliding my bag towards him when a glance into the bed of his truck halts my movements.

“I’m not putting my bag back there,” I shake my head, looking at the tarp covering God knows what.

“Y’ know, I told that douchebag brother of yours you were gonna bitch the whole fuckin’ time,” he gripes low, his voice filled with irritation pulling my gaze toward his. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because,” I say, turning to face him fully for the first time, surprised at the man looking back.

Last time I’d seen him, he was the same old boring Dash Hunter he’d always been. He was still many things, but boring was no longer one of them.

He’d never been bad looking. In fact, his undeniable attractiveness had always been one of the things that irritated me most about him. When his boring haircut and sloppy attire hadn’t made it easy enough to overlook him, his obnoxious attitude problem never failed to crush any of his redeeming physical qualities. He was always nice to everyone else, but I was the exception.

To be fair, he could say the same of me. I’m sweet as sugar to everyone else, but somehow, Dash always found a way to locate my last nerve and just dry hump the fuck out of it.

He’s driven me crazy since I was eight.

Stupid jerk.

Who the hell wears a tight, white t-shirt in the dead of winter? It’s like you want people to stare at your tattoos and nipples.

Pervert.

My mouth goes dry as I think about how ridiculous his thick, muscled neck looks as his annoyingly tight jaw starts clenching in frustration at my resistance to his stupid storage solution when his voice cuts me off.

“What’s wrong with putting your bag in the back of my truck?”

Jesus Christ, that fucker looks delicious.

“Um…” I shake my head, righting myself as I square my shoulders. “You have a huge ass tarp covering what looks like a deformed animal carcass.”

“It’s a Christmas tree, dumbass,” he says, wiping out my newfound attraction as he lifts the corner of the tarp before shaking his head and taking the bag from me. “If you’re waiting for me to get the door for your uppity little ass, you’d better hope that jacket of yours is thicker than it looks, princess,” he smirks, shaking his head and focusing on his stupid tree. “It’s unlocked.”

I pull myself up onto the bench seat, savoring in the warmth of the heater as I listen to him close the tailgate, murmuring a string of curse words as I roll my eyes, settling in.

“I don’t care how pretty you got, you’re still an asshole,” I sigh almost silently as I pull my phone out once more, texting my mom. “And I hope my bag rolls onto your ugly ass tree.”