The Vincent Boys 01 - The Vincent Boys

need a mirror to know I was blushing like an idiot. Beau never made suggestive comments to me or even flirted with me. I happened to be the only reasonably attractive female at school he completely ignored.
    “Don’t you dare touch him, you stupid bitch. His keys are in the ignition of his truck,” Nicole, Beau’s on-again-off-again girlfriend snarled at me, lifting her head, and slinging her dark brown hair back over her shoulder. Bloodshot blue eyes filled with hate watched me as if daring me to touch what was hers. I didn’t respond to her, nor did I look back up at Beau. Instead, I turned and headed for his truck, reminding myself I was doing this for Sawyer.
    “Come on then and get in the truck,” I barked at both of them before sliding into the driver’s seat. It was really hard not to focus on the fact this was the first time I’d ever been in Beau’s truck. After countless nights lying on my roof with him talking about the day we got our driver’s license and all the places we would go, I was just now, at seventeen years old, sitting inside his truck. Beau picked Nicole up and dumped her in the back.
    “Lay down unless you get sick again, then make sure you puke over the side,” he snapped while opening the driver’s side door. “Hop out, princess. She’s about to pass out, she won’t care if I’m driving.”
    I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
    “I’m not going to let you drive. You’re slurring your words. You don’t need to drive.”
    He opened his mouth to argue then mumbled something that sounded like a curse word before slamming the door and walking around the front of the truck to get in on the passenger’s side. He didn’t say anything and I didn’t glance over at him. Without Sawyer around, Beau made me nervous.
    “I’m tired of arguing with females tonight. That’s the only reason I’m letting you drive,” he grumbled without a slur this time. It wasn’t surprising he could control the slurring. The boy had been getting drunk before most the kids our age had tasted their first beer. When a guy had a face like Beau’s, older girls took notice. He’d been snagging invites to the field parties way before the rest of us.
    I managed a shrug. “You wouldn’t have to argue with me if you didn’t drink so much.”
    He let out a hard laugh. “You really are a perfect little preacher’s daughter, aren’t you, Ash? Once upon a time you were a helluva lot more fun. Before you started sucking face with Sawyer, we used to have some good times together.”
    He was watching me for a reaction. Knowing his eyes were directed at me made it hard to focus on driving.
    “You were my partner in crime, Ash. Sawyer was the good guy. But the two of us, we were the trouble makers. What happened?”
    How did I respond to that? No one knew the girl who used to steal bubble gum from the Quick Stop or abduct the paper boy to tie him up so we could take all his papers and dip them in blue paint before leaving them on the front door steps of houses. No one knew the girl who snuck out of her house at two in the morning to go toilet paper yards and throw water balloons at cars from behind the bushes. No one would even believe I’d done all those things if I told them . . . no one but Beau.
    “I grew up,” I finally replied.
    “You completely changed, Ash.”
    “We were kids, Beau. Yes, you and I got into trouble and Sawyer got us out of trouble but we were just kids. I’m different now.”
    For a moment he didn’t respond. He shifted in his seat and I knew his gaze was no longer focused on me. We’d never had this conversation before. Even if it was uncomfortable, I knew it was way overdue. Sawyer always stood in the way of Beau and me mending our fences. Fences that crumbled and I never knew why. One day he was Beau, my best friend. The next day he was just my boyfriend’s cousin.
    “I miss that girl, you know. She was exciting. She knew how to have fun. This perfect little preacher’s daughter who took her place sucks.”
    His words hurt. Maybe because they were coming from him or maybe because I understood what he was saying. It wasn’t as if I never thought about that girl. I hated him for making me miss her too. I worked really hard at keeping her locked away. Having someone actually want her to be set loose made it so much harder to keep her under control.
    “I’d rather be a preacher’s daughter than a drunk whore who vomits all over herself,” I snapped before I could