Read Online The Bad Boy's Dance by Vera Calloway - Free Book Online Page B

awakening.
                  I started the engine, buckled my seat belt and pressed the gas pedal. Not two feet, and a dark shape flung itself in front of my car. Shrieking, I stomped on the brakes, nearly flying through the window.
                  Wear your seatbelt, children. It saves lives.
                  My headlights shed light- I can even make puns without trying, woot!- on the identity of the shadow. Asher had his hands on the hood of my car and he grinned at my astounded expression. “What the flapjacks was that? I could have killed you!” I hollered. He was even more devil-may-care than I’d thought!
                  Coming to the passenger seat, I didn’t realize his intent until it was too late. Where was the lock? Too many buttons!
                  By the time I’d located the button to lock the door, Asher was buckling himself in my passenger seat. He flicked a lock of midnight hair from his forehead and gave me a roguish smirk.
                  “I need a ride.”
                  And thus began a very long night.
    Chapter Seven
    Welcome to Fear Street, How May I Kill You?
     
                 
     
    Asher Grayson was the spawn of the devil.
                  He’d threatened to sue me for almost running him over- despite the fact that he’d jumped in front of my car!- unless I dropped him off somewhere. Apparently, his car was in the shop after some motorist blew out the engine. I didn’t understand car lingo, so I’d nodded along.
                  Why had I agreed?
                  Oh yeah. Because the idea of being in a courtroom ever again scared the bejeezus out of me.
                  “Left here,” Asher spoke. Complying, I fiddled with the radio. Asher snorted at my choice of music, but didn’t say anything else. He was tense, that much was obvious, but I had no clue why. Where exactly was I taking him?
                  “Right here, and go straight till you reach the end of the street.”
                  The street was dark and gloomy, and the empty windows seemed to glare at me as we drove by. I shivered.  This was not a neighborhood I would ever trick- or- treat in. R.L Stine probably based Fear Street on here.
                  Parking, I assessed the low, run-down warehouse Asher had forced me to drive to. It was covered in graffiti and littered with cigarette butts, and the peeling walls chipped paint onto the ground.
                  “Thanks for the ride,” Asher said shortly, unlocking his door.
                  “Wait!” I called. He swiveled back warily.
                  “What?”
                  “It’s not safe to be in a place like this at night,” I cautioned. “There are hooligans here.”
                  “Hooligans?” he snickered.
                  “Yes, hooligans. Also known as careless troublemakers. It went with the flow of the sentence, okay? I stand by my word choice.” Rambling defensively, I snuck another peek at Asher, who was checking his watch tensely.
                  He opened the car door, allowing a cold breeze to brush along my arm, sprouting goose bumps on my skin. “Wait!” I whisper-shouted as he strolled towards the warehouse, seemingly at ease with the creepy desolation of the neighborhood. “How long will you be?”
                  “Go home. Your services are no longer needed. Goodnight,” he replied casually, as if he was telling me tomorrow was sweatshirt weather.
                  “Wha-I’m not leaving you alone in this place!” I hissed, glancing around to check that we weren’t being stalked by creatures of the night or anything. Of all the times for me to forget my pepper spray!
                  “You don’t need to worry. Seriously, go home