Harley (Heaven Hill Shorts Book 4) by Laramie Briscoe

Author:Laramie Briscoe [Briscoe, Laramie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Laramie Briscoe Books
Published: 2019-11-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Four

“Do you think we’re gonna win tomorrow?” Justice asks as she and I sit in front of her vanity, each taking turns braiding our hair. We’ve both decided to go for a wavy look for the game.

“I hope so, you know what happens to Bishop if he doesn’t win.”

It’s the thing that no one really talks about. Anyone who knows him well knows what he hides, but no one confronts him about it. No one questions his dad, and they just let his family act like they’re perfect.

“I think you should tell Dad about it,” Justice whispers as she braids the back of my hair.

“Tell Dad what? That I’ve been sneaking around with a guy for almost a year, that we’ve been fucking every Friday after the football games, and oh, by the way, his dad likes to use him as a punching bag when he doesn’t perform the way he’s supposed to. I don’t know, Justice. I feel like that’d be asking a lot of Dad.”

“He’d do something about it.”

“But what would he do? That’s the problem. I don’t know how far he’d go, and if Bishop would even be willing to ask for the help.”

She’s quiet for a few minutes, before we switch places and she sits, letting me braid her hair. “Sometimes we can’t ask for help,” she reminds me. “I didn’t ask for help, Caelin took me to Doc Jones.”

“Bishop and I don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“But you could, if one of you would be willing to let your feelings show. I’ve never met two people who are so unwilling to put a label on something in my life.”

I think about why that is, could it be because we’re young? I’ve wondered that, but I also think it’s because of how we fell into hanging out.

“Son of a bitch,” I kick at the tire on my bike. It’s flat as a fuckin’ pancake and I don’t expect anyone to find me on this desolate stretch of road out in Richardsville. I don’t have cell-phone service and I’m fucking screwed.

Deciding the best thing for me to do is walk until I get a signal, and then call my dad to come help me, I take off walking. For fifteen minutes, I climb a hill, holding my phone up to the sky. I have one bar, but when I pull it back down, I lose it. “Just my damn luck.”

Ten minutes into trying to figure out how to play this, I hear a vehicle. I’m on high alert as they come to a stop beside me. We’ve had enough shit in our lives, that I don’t do well with people who just want to ‘help’.

“You need a lift?”

My eyebrows go to my hairline as I see Bishop Erickson, the star of our high school in every single way. He and I, we’ve never spoken before, but the smile he gives me puts me at ease, and I nod quickly.

“Yeah, flat tire back there.”

“Saw it,” he reaches over, opening the door for me.

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