In which Lucas Sinclair's older sister spends her whole summer trying to tame Billy Hargrove.
NSFW: 18+ only
Contains Dark themes and sexual content that may not be suitable for people under the age of 18.
Read at your own risk-this essentially is...
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Chapter Seventeen: Ad(dick)ted
"That'll be three dollars," Erica Sinclair declared earnestly to her big sister as she forced one of her dolls into a new hairstyle. It was late, nearly eleven-thirty and the youngest Sinclair was already bathed and dressed in her pajamas, her pretty hair protected by the silk of the bright pink bonnet Zara had bought her forever ago. "Where were you anyway?"
Zara hadn't returned home until the sun had set and her parents had already tucked themselves into bed—if she hadn't called earlier, bribing Erica for the umpteenth time to convince their parents that she'd actually returned much earlier and wanted to be left alone. "I pay you so you don't ask questions."
"Is it a boy?" Her sister prodded further, the mini brush in her hand raking through tufts of blonde barbie hairs. She'd waited patiently as Zara shuffled through her purse until she'd found her wallet, fishing out her fee and paying the price. Erica was quick to swipe her earnings, leaning back to loss it in the drawer that held perfectly neat stacks of money she'd accumulated overtime—fucking hustler that kid.
"Pleasure doing business with you, nugget."
Zara could hear Erica's sigh as she closed her bedroom door, bare feet padding gently against the hardwood floor as she crossed the hall and entered her own bedroom. The door closed with a gentle click, a breath of relief escaping her parted lips as she allowed her purse to tumble from her grasp and onto the floor.
What a day.
"Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting in your room for three hours."
"Don't you have a home, Harrington?"
Steve was perched comfortably in her bed, his shoes left in a forgotten heap near her window with his glasses rested at the bridge of his nose—he looked like a dad; his dad. Which was probably why Steve didn't wear them out much, opting to use the prescription lenses in the safety of his home—or around Zara. "I do, but your bed is comfier and you hide snacks under the mattress."
"Stop stealing from my stash," Zara reprimanded with hands shuffling through her dresser drawers until she'd carried a full pajama set in her grasp. She'd disappeared into the darkness of her closet—too lazy to make the journey down the hall to the bathroom. It only took a minute either way, her skirt falling to the floor in a pastel heap; a blush forming as she remembered why she wasn't wearing her underwear.
Billy insisted he keep them—for memorabilia purposes.
"Lucas said you were out with Billy."
She didn't want to acknowledge the little pang until her chest at the unabashed disgust that seeped from his words—she'd felt a little pathetic that Steve's opinion meant so much to her but he was her best friend and she'd be lying if she said she didn't look forward to his approval at least a little.
