Chapter 47: His Baby-1

"He's a keeper," Brandon chuckles. I pull my bag on properly and head for the door. I guess i'll just walk. I wanted to anyway, but what Zeke said is just annoying. When I get outside, I see Zeke driving off in his car. Asshole. "Come on," Brandon says. I didn't even realise he was standing beside me. He begins walking though the parking lot. "Come where?" I follow him. "On my face, if you'd like." What? "What?" Wait. Oh. "Gross," I grimace and he laughs, walking backwards as he looks at me. "I'm taking you home," he finally says. I come to a stop. "No, thanks. I'm fine with walking." He stops too. "Marnie, I ain't gonna rape you. I'm a nice person doing a good deed. Plus, if Blakely knows I drove his baby home, he'll be pissed." Baby? I'm not his baby. Crap, why am I smiling so big. "You like him," he smiles at my expression. "I do not." "You know, he don't deserve a chick like you, but the dudes changed a lot. Probably because of you. Which people are pissed about, by the way." I know Zeke has stopped smoking and drinking, but he's still the same person. "Who is people?" He raises an eyebrow and starts walking again. "Just some dudes; Jordan. Zeke's friends. They're not really friends anymore though." "Because of me?" "No, because of some shit that happened." "What happened?" "Ask Blakely." "He won't tell me." "Then I shouldn't." He comes to a stop in front of a motorbike. "No way," I shake my head. "Don't be a little girl," he gets on and hands me a helmet. "We could die." "Baby, I've been riding this thing for long enough and i've never died." It worries me that i've come so used to hearing people call me baby since I started hanging out with Zeke. "If I go on, will you tell me about Zeke and Jordan?" He sighs, "Okay. You're so manipulative." I shrug, not denying it, and climb onto the back of his bike and put the helmet on. He revs the engine. "You better hold on." I feel uncomfortable putting my arms around Brandon. As if I'm betraying Zeke. "Go slow," I tell him. "I like it fast, baby." "Shut up." I can't talk to any of these people without them throwing innuendos around. I tell him my address and as he pulls out of the parking lot, I hold onto him for dear life and close my eyes shut. The wind from the ride is making my hair fly everywhere, and every time we turn a corner I feel like I am going to die. But I make it home alive, and he parks his motorcycle in my driveway. I get off the bike, stumbling as my legs feel like jelly. Brandon studies the outside of my house and I hand him his helmet back. "Well, see you later," he checks behind him, ready to drive off. "No, no, no. You said you'd tell me about Zeke and Jordan." He runs a hand through his tousled hair, "You're gonna get me in some shit." "With Jordan? Why?" "No, with Blakely. He'll kill me for tellin' you." "Well now I need to know." "Right. You gonna invite me in then?" He nods towards my house. I shake my head, "No guys are allowed in my house." "What'd you wanna do then? Sit at the side of the road?" He jokes. "Yes, actually," I walk over to the pavement and sit on the curb. Brandon follows and sits beside me, shaking his head while smiling. "You're weird." "So are you." "How does Blakely put up with you?" "How does your mother put up with you?" "Touché." "Tell me what happened," I say, feeling impatient. "Okay, okay," he lets out a breath. "So you know about Blakely dealing with Jordan, right?" "What?" My eyes widen and I try to process what Brandon just said. Zeke has dealt drugs. He can't have, I don't believe him. I've heard the rumours about him doing it, but now that I know him I know he'd never do something as bad as that. He must mean he dealt something else. Like potatoes or something. "Guessing you didn't," Brandon laughs. "He dealt drugs?" "Yep." "Are you sure?" "Pretty sure since I was one of his best customers," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter and a cigarette. I watch him light it as I think about Zeke doing that. Why would he? For money? His dad sends him money though and pays for everything, so why would he need it? "Why would he-" I struggle to come out with the words, as my thoughts are going crazy. "Why? How? He wouldn't do that."