Page 8 of The Harder You Fall (Rixon Raiders 3)

A little too good, if the way my body moved in closer was anything to go on. But then, it had been weeks since I’d gotten any.

“So… what do you want?”

“You wound me, Hernandez. I thought we were friends.”

“No, you decided we were friends after you lost Felicity to Jason.”

“I didn’t lose…” She gave me a pointed look and I changed direction. “Fine, I thought Felicity and me were friend goals, sure. But what can I say? She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

My chest tightened. Not because I wanted Felicity. I didn’t; she was my best friend’s girl. But there had been a time, when Hailee and Flick first started hanging around with our group, that I’d thought maybe… nah, who the fuck was I trying to kid? She only ever had eyes for Jason.

I was just the funny friend. The guy who made the girls laugh.

“Goodbye, Asher.” Mya tried to move around me, but I stepped into her path.

“Not so fast.”

“Asher, come on.” She swatted my chest. “I have shit to do.”

“Yeah, like what shit?” I smirked.

“Homework and shit.”

“Can I come?”

“You want to come and do homework with me? Hmm, how about hell to the no?”

“Come on, Mya, it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve hung out.”

“That was different.” Her brows drew together. “That was with the group.”

“So this could be our group.”

“Two people hanging out is not a group, it’s a pair. It’s… weird.”

“But I’ve never been to your aunt’s house.”

“Because we’re not friends.” Mya darted around me, hurrying out of the building, but I gave chase.

I needed her.

“Mya, wait up.” She was already weaving between the cars in the parking lot. “How are you getting home?” I knew Felicity usually gave her a ride and she was with Jason.

“They’re called legs,” she yelled over her shoulder. “You should try using them someday.” She had the balls to wink at me.

Shit, this girl. She was like no one else I’d ever met. Ever since Mya Hernandez had arrived at Rixon High a couple of months back, she’d slid right into our group. Flick had been tasked with taking the Philly transfer under her wing, but Mya didn’t need a babysitter. She’d proved that more than once.

Mya Hernandez was a fighter. Not scared to wade into a fight to protect those she cared about. But it wasn’t her strength that intrigued me. It was her scars. The ones she thought she kept hidden.

Cussing out the stubborn girl, a new plan hatched when thunder rumbled overhead. I ran to my Jeep and ducked inside just as the first fat drops of rain began to fall. Throwing it into reverse, I backed out of the lot and tailed Mya as she pulled up her hood and hurried down the sidewalk.

Slowing to a crawl, I wound down the passenger window. “Get in,” I yelled.

“What?” She glared at me. “No. No!”

“A ride,” I explained. “That’s all I’m offering.”

“Just a ride? Because if this is a ploy to get an invitation into my aunt’s house, it won’t work.” Rain pelted down on