Page 97 of Monstrous Serpent

Who the fuck does he think he is, dismissing us like that?

Atlas blows out a loud, overexaggerated breath as he tucks his phone into his pocket. “I thought we were supposed to hang out. Celebrate the win and all.”

I fucking swear I’m going to beat his ass if Jenkins doesn’t.

“If you boys would like to come over for dinner, you are more than welcome to,” Mrs. Jenkins says.

Atlas beams, batting his fucking eyes. “That would be amazing, ma’am. My family lives in Minnesota, and I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since August.”

Not exactly a lie.

The Trembley household is chaotic. And the last meal we had there was one I made. Not sure Hamburger Helper counts as home-cooked.

Jenkins snatches his bag off the ground, then throws it over his shoulder. “I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.”

My brows furrow as he storms off toward the parking lot.

What the fuck happened after the game?

Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins exchange a look—one I’ve seen the Trembleys do when it came to Atlas on his bad days. Then Mrs. Jenkins turns to me. “Do you need our address?”

“No, ma’am. Cody gave it to us.”

Atlas snorts, and I elbow him.

“See you boys soon.” She walks off with her family.

Atlas practically runs to his bike. “Damn, family dinner. Didn’t think that was happening.”

“What are you doing?”

He pulls on his helmet. “You telling me you don’t want to spend time with him? And we get to figure out what's eating at him. No way he's opening up over text. The little shit would probably block us again. Then we’d have to break into his dorm—or house again—so going to dinner saves us the trouble. And we won’t be breaking the law.”

Asshole has a point.

The drive is quick, and we pull our bikes into the driveway. Davis gawks at our motorcycles while Jenkins just rolls his eyes and makes his way inside, not bothering to wait for us.

If he keeps going with that attitude, I’m going to fuck it out of him.

We barely step inside when Atlas drops to his knees, opening his arms wide to the large pit bull bounding over. “Mr. Smooshy! I missed you so much!”

God-fucking-dammit.

My gaze cuts between Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins as one foot slides back, my stance widening.

Mr. Jenkins looks at Atlas, brows furrowed. “How do you know our dog?”

Atlas freezes as the dog licks his face. “Shit.”

Jenkins smirks, eyes narrowing. “Because he’s the asshole who stole him.”

Wrong move.

I step forward, but Atlas springs up, putting his back against my chest as he cuts me off.

He stares at Jenkins, grinning like he's about to annihilate our little Titan. “Only because you smashed the windshield of our truck.” He turns to Jenkins's parents, shaking his head. “Half the school recorded it. Some even posted online.”

The videos came down real fast after we broke some wrists.