You’re Mine

Chapter 47

Easton

Blake’s hands clench into fists as he glares at me from the end of the hallway, his nostrils flaring like a bull. “Why the hell were your lips all over my girl?” He nods toward the closed door of Harper’s bedroom.

“Your girl?”

I want to laugh.

I’ve known the guy since I was a kid, but suddenly he feels almost like a stranger. And someone I want to knock the fuck out and never set eyes on again.

“That’s right, asshole. My girl.”

“So, you’re telling me, you’ve claimed her? You and Harper are dating now?”

“It doesn’t matter what the hell our title is. I like her and I’ve made that clear to you. But obviously, you have no boundaries when it comes to your friends.”

He made it clear to me?

I would hardly call it that.

When I mentioned to him that they seemed to be getting close, he asked if I felt threatened. I then asked if he was going to pursue her, and he shrugged.

And Harper’s the one who kissed him in the hallway-the visual, once again, making me fucking crazy- not the other way around.

One thing I do know is I don’t want him to tell Ryan about what he just witnessed.

I’m not ready for him to find out about us.

How the hell can I get myself out of this mess?

Before I even get the chance to respond, Harper’s bedroom door opens and she pops her head out, peeking into the hallway.

Her eyes widen when glances from me to Blake. “What’s going on out here?” Panic covers her face.

I’m not surprised, not when she knows Blake has a hard-on for her, and her pussy is still wet from my tongue.

I don’t want her to get sucked into this, this is between me and Blake.

I lower my voice and say, “Nothing, go back inside-”

“No,” Blake interrupts, “why don’t you stay and tell us which mouth you prefer.” He glares at me. “Mine or his.”

Nice try, dickhead, but we’re not going down that road.

“Harper, don’t answer that motherfucker’s question.”

“I’m the motherfucker?” Blake snaps. “Because, from what I just saw, that role is all yours.”

“Harper, get back inside,” I order.

She disappears and shuts the door behind her, leaving us alone in the hallway.

“For someone who cares about her, you have a real shitty way of showing it,” I tell him. “Putting her in the middle, that’s real classy.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, more anger seeping into his expression. “You’re just afraid she’s going to choose me.”

I laugh.

And I draw out the sound and movement, making sure he knows how funny he is. “If that’s what you want to believe, be my guest.”

“It’s not what I believe, it’s fact.”

I’m not going to sit around and waste my time getting nowhere with him, not when I

know he’s not going to say anything to Ryan when I can come back and tell Ryan about their make out session at school.

“You’re ridiculous,” I bark and rush down the stairs.

“Run away, Easton, like a real fucking pussy.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

I stop in the living room, seeing the guys through the patio door. I can’t return to the backyard and pretend nothing has happened between Blake and me. Ryan will know within a second and every secret will come tumbling out.

My only option is to get out of here.

I catch Blake’s stare one last time, my lips tightening the moment I see his smugness. “Have fun lying to Ryan, you pathetic piece of shit.”

He chuckles. “I’m the pathetic one?”

I don’t respond and I hear him following me to the door. With my hand on the knob, I turn around. The hairs of his bun are loosening, and I want to take a pair of scissors and cut the fucking thing off.

I can deny what he saw upstairs and try to smooth things over, or I can confess what he already knows.

I’m going to do something even better.

“It’s on, Blake. It’s fucking on.” I smile. “There’s only one man who’s going to win that girl … and it’s me.”

I flip him off and leave through the front door, climbing into the driver’s seat of my Jeep. I pull out of the driveaway and shoot Ryan a quick text, letting him know something came up and I had to go.

The message sends and my phone starts ringing, Aisha’s name on the screen. If I don’t answer, she’ll just keep calling.

| straighten the wheel and hit the gas, holding the phone to my face. “What’s up?”

“Why do you sound so out of breath?”

Because I’m fighting off friends who are after my mystery girl and it’s making me

crazy.

“I’m not. I’m driving.”

“Come over.”NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

I slow as I approach the red light. “Now?”

“Julia is on her way, and she’s offered to write your history paper.”

I wrack my brain, trying to figure out what she’s talking about. “I have history homework?”

“Seriously, Easton, are you really that dense? You and Julie have history class together and she told me you have a paper due tomorrow and, knowing you, you haven’t written it. Looks like I’m right.”

I spent the entire class fuming, watching Blake like every single one of Harper’s pictures on Instagram. Of course, I missed the teacher giving us an assignment.

There’s no way I’ll get it done by morning, not when the only thing I can think about is how badly I want to be in Harper’s bed right now, my mouth tasting her wetness again.

“All right, I’ll come over,” I reply. “But I can’t stay long.”

“Why, you have somewhere else you need to be?”

There are so many things I can say, and none will lead to anywhere good.

“See you soon,” I respond and hang up.

I place the phone into the cupholder, and it immediately lights up with a text.

Ryan: I thought we were hanging tonight? What the fuck, man?

Just in case Blake makes any kind of reference to Ryan about Harper and me, I have to protect myself.

Luckily, the perfect excuse just fell in my lap.

Me: Aisha asked me to come over and I bounced. You know how it is-you’ve got to hit it when you can.

It fucking pains me to send that message.

The last thing I want is for anyone to think I’m hooking up with Aisha, but that’s certainly better than telling Ryan I just ate his sister’s pussy and that Blake and I are about to go twelve rounds over her.

Ryan: Staying the night at her place?

Me: Nah, I’ll be home later. Why?

Ryan: Text me on your way home, I’ve got a story to tell you.

A .. story?

I can’t imagine what this one could be about.

Me: You got it.