No Prince

by Stevie J. Cole

I made a blatant show of looking over her long legs. And damn, that skirt was short. “Nice skirt,” I said. “Eat shit.” She stepped around me without missing a beat. I faltered. That was not how this shit went. Ever. I complimented a girl—she swooned. I spun around. I wanted to call her a bitch, but she was headed straight toward Bellamy. So I swallowed my pride for a second and started after her. “You should learn to take a compliment, you know?” “You should learn to fuck off.” My jaw clenched. She was a row over from the damned Hurst. God, I did not need to be dealing with this right now.

My fave girl right here. 😂😂😂😂😂

I heard the jingle of keys before the car door opened and slammed shut. Not even two seconds later, the engine growled to life, shaking the ground. “What the hell, man?” Bellamy shouted, running up behind me when the reverse lights came on. The tires spun, kicking gravel everywhere before she shot off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in the glow of the taillights. “Did she just take the car?” Bellamy snatched the bag from the patch of grass.

Not only had Monroe stolen a car out from under me, but she had also just taken a blowtorch to my ego.