Culver:A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel(3)

By: Meg Jackson




“Umm…seriously, Alicia?” I asked, eyebrows cocked. Okay, maybe Alicia DID go overboard, I thought to myself. She looked back at me, her green eyes puzzled.



“You so totally did. Last night. Don’t you remember? On the roof?” Becky said, grinning from ear to ear. Alicia blushed bright red, bringing her hand up to her mouth.



“Oh my God! You guys, I totally forgot! Oh my god! I don’t even remember what it was like! Oh, well, you know, that doesn’t count, then,” she said, taking a long sip of her drink and waving her hand in the air dismissively.



“What? What do you mean it doesn’t count? You did it. You totally smoked weed last night,” I said with a snicker.



“Well, did I seem like I got high? Was I acting weird?” Alicia asked, looking somewhat embarrassed now that we were calling her out.



“No, actually. I remember pretty well – you didn’t seem different at all. In fact, I’m pretty sure you went on a little rant to those guys about how it must have been fake…” Becky said thoughtfully, looking into her own drink as though it was a crystal ball telling her about the past.



“Oh, those guys…I nearly forgot all about them…” Alicia said, sighing. Of the three of us, Alicia had the most experience with guys, and she was also the most likely to ditch the rest of us for a date. We loved her for it, though, because she never got bothered when we teased her about her boy-crazy ways.



Becky, on the other hand, liked to have steady boyfriends, and had dated two guys throughout all of high school: one in freshman and sophomore year, one in junior and senior year. Scott, who was her current boyfriend, would be going to Washington for college in the fall, and they’d decided to break up right before summer vacation so that neither would feel pressured into a long-distance relationship. That was a very Becky sort of thing to do: play it safe. She was the one we all believed would get married and have kids before the rest of us.



Me? I guess I was kind of a wild card. That’s a lie; I was really more like a joker, because I wasn’t even in the game. I’d dated guys, had a few boyfriends from time to time, but I wasn’t really about the whole relationship thing. It seemed dumb to me, to date someone in high school when you knew everyone was just going to wind up leaving sooner rather than later. That wasn’t supposed to sound so depressing, it just seemed to be the truth.



Besides, I wasn’t so much like other girls, who saw a hot guy and got all flustered about it. I thought guys were cute, or handsome, or whatever, but I wasn’t really the sort of girl who spent homeroom doodling the class cutie’s name into her spiral-bound notebook, you know? The few times I’d allowed a boy to go farther than just kissing, it wasn’t anything worth writing home about, and I usually didn’t let them do it again. I wasn’t prudish, more like selfish. If it wasn’t going to do anything for me, why should I bother letting some guy paw at me?



So we all had our own missions, and they were pretty clear-cut reflections of ourselves. Alicia, flighty and easily amused, looking for a fun drug to experiment with just like she experimented with different cute boys. Becky, always on the straight and narrow and never willing to take a chance, wanted to take a risk and possibly lose it all. Me, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, and thought it would be a lot easier to enjoy myself with someone that I knew I didn’t have to impress, or even ever see again.



As boys – and full-grown men – passed by the three of us, we were all well aware of the looks they were giving us behind their sunglasses. Some of them weren’t even trying to hide behind sunglasses, and others actually drew attention to themselves by physically lifting their sunglasses. I couldn’t blame any of them: we were three young, gorgeous, healthy young women in bikinis. Plus, we were kind of like the Powerpuff Girls: orderly, raven-haired Becky, feisty and carrot-topped Alicia, blonde, baby-faced me.

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