Page 86 of That Pucking New Girl

“I hear you, GPS,” Alastair growls, missing yet another street he needs to turn at.

“Pay attention,” I snark at him. Alastair has Draven walking funny, and it would be amusing if this was about any other girl.

I’m jealous of Noor Agassi. My parents are abusive and narcissistic. They only care about being able to reach for connections outside of their tax bracket, and my dad’s favorite hobby lately is telling me how much I suck at life. My dad got a better paying job last month and we don’t have to struggle as hard, but it feels like nothing is good enough for him.

“I know that car,” I mutter, finding that we’re driving behind an SUV that I recognize. My stalking also extends to watching who drops Noor off and picks her up. This deep blue is something I remember.

“Since I’m already lost, should I follow it?” Alastair snorts.

“Fuck it, why not?” I sigh, clearing out my GPS app.

“You really don’t want to go home, huh?” Draven asks sympathetically, watching me from the back seat. I glance behind me, admiring the way his ear piercings seem to twinkle with the street lights as we pass them.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous, but I hate the pity reflecting in his blue eyes.

“It’s the same shit, different day,” I shrug. “Don’t lose them, Alastair.”

The drive takes us into a swanky area full of houses that sit behind fences and wrought iron gates.

“Holy shit,” Draven mutters. The street lights are even fancy as Alastair slows down, watching the gates that open for the SUV as it zips into the safety of the fenced off area.

Frowning, I pull up a note on my phone, working off another feeling.

“This is the Denton home,” I tell them. “The SUV belongs to one of Nope’s foster parents. They tend to drop her off in it when Mrs. Denton doesn’t take her to school.”

The silence is loud as we watch the gates close again, and I wince as I realize how badly I just exposed my obsession.

“I guess she’s under your skin too,” Alastair grunts.

“I can’t fucking help it,” I groan. “You’re the one who’s fucking her in secret.”

“Shit,” Alastair curses. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you guys, but things have been busy.”

“Yeah, okay,” I mutter. “Your dick just fell into her?”

“Pretty much,” he says. “Dad is still on my ass about finding a way to get Mrs. Denton out of his business. I don’t know what else to do.”

Alastair is deflecting, and I decide to let him this one time.

“We could get her expelled,” Draven offers. “I’m not sure if that would shift the attention though.”

“Nah, that would make it worse. The woman would go on a crusade,” I grunt. “Let’s lie low for a little while to see if that helps. We can tell the student body to pretend she doesn’t exist. Completely ice her out.”

Hoping not to get lost, I plug my address into the GPS.

“That could work. It’ll at least give me a chance to detox from her,” Alastair sighs, finding a way to turn around on the road. Otherwise, my map says he’ll end up driving down to a dead end.

“I think we might be beyond that,” Draven mutters.

The drive to my house is quiet after that. I left my shit in the trunk so I wouldn’t have to worry about forgetting it later. I’m unfortunately very sober after our drive, and I make a face as I close the trunk door. Hefting my shit onto my shoulder I raise a hand in goodbye as I walk up the well maintained lawn of my modest home.

While we aren’t poor anymore, we aren’t in the Denton’s tax bracket by a long shot.

I quietly walk around the back of the house instead of going through the front door to avoid waking anyone up. It’ll just cause a fight, and I’m exhausted. We have a few back to back away games coming up, which will hopefully help to “detox” us as Alistair said.

It’ll also ensure that I’m away from home more often, which is exactly what I need.

Unlocking the kitchen back door, I ease it open. I shouldn’t be worried because I just added WD40 to the hinges of this door for this exact reason. I did the same thing to the front door, but it’s closer to my parents’ bedroom. He’s not exactly the most well adjusted person, which is why I tread carefully.