Promised (The Promised Series)

I’m determined to win the girl, he says. “Fine. I’ll have your back. But if her old man kicks both our asses, I’m telling my mom it’s your fault.”
    “I’m not afraid of your mom, Nate. Aunt Kelly is an angel.” I climb in to my 1970 Dodge Challenger and say. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”
    He crosses in front of the car and then climbs into the passenger seat.
    “You do realize Satan was an angel too, right?” He asks, throwing his books into the back seat which causes me to glare at him. He knows he’s not supposed to throw his crap all over my car. My dad and I worked hard on rebuilding my Challenger before he was deployed, and it means the world to me.
    He rolls his eyes at me and leans back in the seat to grab his books. Once I’m convinced he’s picked everything up, I ask. “Did you just compare your mom to the Devil?”
    “Dude, you’ve never seen her pissed off. I swear the last time I made her mad, two little red horns popped up out of her head and she grew a pointy tail.” Nate exaggerates.
    “What’d you do to make her that mad?” I ask as I’m backing out of the parking spot and pulling on to the road.
    “I may have rear ended a cop car.”
    “What the hell were you doing that you didn’t see a cop car in front of you?” I ask.
    “I may have been checking out a girl who was walking down the street.” Nate confesses as he’s looking out the window.
    “Aunt Kelly should get a medal just for putting up with your crap.” I state, shaking my head.
    “Hey! You didn’t see this girl. Short shorts, long tan legs, and oh my lord, she had on this top that was no bigger than a band aid. It barely covered her tits. You would’ve rear ended the cop car too.” He turns to me as he pleads his case.
    “If you say so.” I have no doubt there was a hot chick, but I highly doubt she’d be worth me getting in trouble for rear ending a cop car. Nate likes them hot, but he also likes them dumb. It’s easier for him to fool around on them if they’re not smart enough to catch on. Don’t get me wrong, I like them hot too, but I also want a girl with brains. I’m not saying she has to be the next Einstein, but I want to be able to hold an intelligent conversation with her. Preferably one not about her favorite lip gloss or which dress she looks better in. Seriously, I actually had a girl talk to me for an hour about her favorite lip gloss. It was what I imagined torture to be like. If a terrorist ever needed to get some highly classified secret out of me, he wouldn’t have to water board me. He would only have to bring that girl in and make me listen to her talk about whether she likes her Wild Watermelon or Berry Splash lip gloss better. I would spill every secret I know in two point three seconds flat.
    “You know if it was Wyn walking down the road, you would’ve done the same thing.” Nate crosses his arms and stares out the window again.
    “Wyn?” I ask him confused.
    “How soon you forget your dream girl .” Nate mocks.
    “That’s her name?” I ask, gnawing at the bit for any information he can give me.
    “You’re not going to forget about her, are you?” Nate shakes his head at me.
    “Doubt it.” I admit honestly.
    “Fine, but I did warn you.”
    “Noted. So spill.”
    “Her name is Arwyn Scott, but she goes by Wyn. She’s the youngest of six kids. You saw the four oldest of her brothers. They guard her like she’s the crown jewels and she doesn’t associate with anyone at school other than the teachers.” Nate tells me.
    “No one hangs out with her?” I ask, thinking it’s highly unlikely that everyone ignores a girl as beautiful as Wyn.
    “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like people haven’t tried.” He throws up his hands in defense.
    “How long has she lived here?” If she has no friends, she must be a new student too.
    “She’s lived here her whole life.” Nate tells me.
    “How the hell does she not have friends?” I ask, getting mad. I’m imagining the stuck up kids at school shunning her because of her crazy family and I find myself wanting to defend her from them.
    “She has friends. They just don’t go to school with us anymore.”
    “Oh my lord, could you be anymore cryptic. Just spit out the story, Nate, before I get pissed and make you walk the rest of the way home.” I’m gripping the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles have turned white.
    “Damn, you’re bossy today.” I turn and give him the