Punk 57(68)

I better get out of here.

Looking down, I see her face resting on the bed, her eyes closed, looking very content. I slip my hand between her and the bed and squeeze her breast, placing one last kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Pom Poms. I’ll see you at school.”

She makes a little growl in her throat, but her eyes remain closed, and I laugh to myself as I clean up and get dressed.





“Do you think anyone will guess we got this shit from the bakery?” Lyla asks, holding up a stack of wrapped cookies.

I take the clear plastic bag from her, tied with a red bow, and set it back down on the long plastic table. “It’s not shit. Because it’s from the bakery.”

School ended four hours ago, but the parking lot is packed full of cars as we stand behind our table, greeting people before they enter the ball park. The sun has already set, and the field lighting overhead shines down, brightening the area as the last of the crowd filters through the gates.

Lyla and I were picked by the coach to work the bake sale tonight, and as a requirement, we have to wear our cheer uniforms. Fundraising is one of our many duties, and since we’re not busy rallying the crowd during the baseball game that’s about to start, we’re trying to earn some money for the team and acclimate some of the new girls coming in next year.

Technically we were supposed to bake the goods we’re selling—with the help of the team moms—but we’d dropped the ball, not planning ahead. It’s spring, school’s almost over, and I’m already swamped as it is. So we raided Lieber’s Bakery during school today and got dismissed from final period to package everything in our own bags with ribbons of the school’s colors.

“Come on, freshmen!” Lyla claps her hands. “Smile. It’s your new thing. I promise.”

I laugh to myself. I don’t envy them at all. The will to plaster a smile I don’t feel on my face has very nearly left the building.

I push the packages of cookies and brownies up to replace what has already been sold. Looking up, I see Masen standing near his truck with a group of guys from school. My stomach somersaults.

He’s watching me with an amused look on his face. I’d told him about the bake sale during Art today, so we agreed to meet afterward to do whatever it is he’s got planned, God help me.

After sneaking into my room this morning, catching me with my vibrator, and damn-near waking up the whole house—because he needed to get laid—the rest of the day passed relatively calmly. Everything else was easy peasy compared to that.

I resist the urge to pull out the huge-ass black bow on top of my head that we’re required to wear as part of the uniform. I can feel the laugh he’s holding back all the way from here.

I see him and his friends approach.

“Jesus, it’s like the Disney channel puked all over this table,” he jokes, scanning the array of polka-dotted plastic bags and the flowery tablecloth.

I put my hands on my hips.

“Nice bow.” He jerks his chin, eyeing the top of my head. “If I pull it, does it have a string that makes you talk and move?”

A snort breaks into a laugh, and I shoot a glare over to Ten, standing behind Lyla. He hunches over just a little, his body shaking.

He glances up at me, sees my stare, and tries to hold it back. “I’m sorry, okay? It was funny.”

I arch an eyebrow and turn my eyes back to Masen. He cocks his head, looking delighted with himself.

I grab the collar of his black hoodie and pull his face close, leaning into his ear and covering my whisper with my hand. “You left bruises all over my tits this morning,” I tell him, “and if you’re not nice, I won’t let you kiss them better later.”

He sucks in a breath.

“Now buy some cookies,” I order, pushing him away.

A smile pulls at his mouth, but I raise my chin, watching him pull out his wallet.

He hands Lyla a hundred-dollar bill, and I blink, trying not to look like I’m taken off guard. Okay. I guess he’s okay on money, after all.

Where’d he get that much cash? An unnerving feeling settles in my gut.

“How much will this buy me?” he asks her but keeps his eyes on me.

She takes the bill and stares at it for a moment. But then she takes a package of ten cookies and shoves it at him. “Here.”

A laugh catches in my throat. That stack of sweets costs five bucks, but I don’t care that she’s hustling him. He deserves it.

He gives the package a look, clearly knowing he’s being swindled, but he keeps quiet and tosses it to a friend behind him. Slipping his wallet back into his pocket, he holds my eyes briefly before walking away, his crew following.

“Nice.” Lyla waves the hundred in front of me. “What did you say to him?”

“I forget.”

I don’t fear Lyla’s judgement about Masen, and part of me wants people to see him touch me, but for some reason, Masen still feels like a fling, and I don’t want to try to explain it to others. I’m still trying to figure him out myself.

And part of me likes the sneaking around. I love having this one thing that makes me happy that I don’t have to share with anyone else.

Kind of like Misha.

Misha. Why do I feel like I’m betraying him? He abandoned me.

After the national anthem and the first pitch, Lyla, Ten, and I call it a night, sending the other girls home and then packing up. Lyla grabs the rest of the snacks, saying we’ll just give them to the baseball team when they’re done, and Ten heads into the game, probably to find J.D. and the rest of our friends.