No Prince

by Stevie J. Cole

Zepp was like a predator; all the little birds stopped tittering when he was near. Maybe that was why I felt him before the guy’s gaze slid past me, and the color drained from his face. “Give her, her fucking books.” The low growl came over my shoulder.

“I don’t have sex, Monroe.” I leaned over, gripping the edge of the mattress while I inched close to her reddening face. “I fuck.”

“Because a guy like that doesn’t deserve your fucking time.”

This was not a fairytale. I was no damsel, and Zeppelin Hunt was certainly no prince.

“I’m gonna go to jail for something, Roe. Might as well be you.”

“You came for me,” I finally said. “Yeah.”

“Do I look like a guy who drinks milkshakes, Monroe?” “Who doesn’t drink milkshakes? You really are a psychopath.”

“And you really are hot.”

Zepp was insane, but I couldn’t help the smile or the little flutter in my chest as I watched Zepp Hunt do exactly what he did best: Be bad. For me.

“It’s tenser than my dick in here,” he said.

Hendrix barked out a laugh. “You two are so bumping uglies.” He did a little dance in his seat while singing: “Bow-chica-wow-wow.”

“The first time I noticed you was two summers ago when you were washing some shit car in your drive. I told the guys you were off-limits.” He nudged me. “You’re welcome. Hendrix would have tried to screw you.”

“You’re the only girl I’ve ever given a shit about.” I grabbed her hips and pulled her on top of me. Her hands went to my face. “Good.” And then she kissed me.

Her hand brushed my shoulder before her arms wrapped around my waist, her chin pressing to my shoulder. And goddamn, that broke me. I buried my face in her neck. Monroe was making herself a lifeline, and I was fucked. “That’s shit, Zepp.” “It’s just life, Monroe.”

Then it hit me like an eighteen-wheeler barreling down a road: She was a stripper and a virgin. How messed up was that, that we lived the kind of life where she was rubbing her tits in men’s faces and straddling their laps when she hadn’t even had sex. Something about that was downright tragic. Monroe James wasn’t at all what I had thought she was—what anyone thought she was. And she was so much better than I deserved.

I had never given a shit about a girl before, and somehow, this girl had managed to break me apart without even trying. Because I was pretty damn sure I was in love with her.

“A little shart never killed anyone,” he grunted.

He felt like home when I’d never truly had one, and I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“If he finds out you had anything to do with it, you’ll be dead, and—” “Because I fucking love you. Okay?” I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, panic winding through me at the abrupt confession. “I love you, and I’m terrified of losing you. I hoped Dizzy would kill his ass because you wouldn’t let me do it, and I can’t lose you.”

he loved me, but he didn’t try to stop me from leaving. He had just let me go. He let me go…

“Told you I was gonna go to jail for something, Roe. Might as well be you.”

“It wasn’t your problem.”

“You’ll always be my problem, Roe.”

“I’ll never love anybody the way I love you, Roe. That I promise.”

Zeppelin Hunt would always be the boy who had shown me what love was, even when he couldn’t love himself.

“I’m not a knight in shining armor. I’m an asshole. Don’t know if you remember that or not.” He was right, but I’d never cared. “But you were mine!” My voice broke. “And you left me when you said you never would.”

“I meant it when I told you I would never love anyone the way I loved you. Because I won’t love anyone but you.”