Fallen Bast*rd

Willa 16 yrs old

Today's the day I take control of my own destiny, or at least that's the pep talk running on repeat in my head as I stride out to the back of the clubhouse for the Fallen Bastards' family day. The clubs have been hosting these monthly get-togethers since before I could crawl.

Weaving through the throngs of people helping with the setup, I spot my best mate Georgie, elbow deep in table prep with our mothers, laughing while they arrange the tables. I grab a stack of chairs and swing around, only to smack right into a solid, distinctly human wall. Oops?

"No worries, Will." A voice rumbles, making my stomach do somersaults. Weston Reeves, man of my dreams and my best friend's brother, flashes me a cheeky grin. "Let me get those for you."

"Yeah, cheers, that'd be brilliant," I manage, sounding shakier than I meant to. ‘Well done, Willa. Could you sound any more desperate?’ Weston grabs the chairs, shoots me a cheeky wink, and heads off towards the tables. Fantastic, he noticed. Where's that anvil when you need it?

I shamelessly watch Weston's denim-clad backside disappear, only to whirl round and crash into Georgie. “Honestly, Georgie, you need a bloody bell,” I mutter, but she laughs.

She grins, voice raised for maximum embarrassment. "Maybe you'd have heard me if you weren't so busy trying to will my brother's jeans off." I narrow my eyes and pinch her arm, hissing, Keep your voice down!?

Georgie's grin widens. Oh, come on, "Will anyone with eyes can tell you fancy Weston."

Her face lights up as my brother Dex walks by, shirtless and cradling a drenched puppy. I roll my eyes at Georgie, who's practically melting. 'And she thinks I'm obvious,' I tease, pretending to wipe her chin.

Later that evening everyone's sitting around eating and drinking, everyone that is except Georgie and me, fresh an' still dripping from a spontaneous swim with the kids. We tug on denim shorts and T-shirts over still-damp skin before sauntering over to the BBQ pit, where our dads, aka the ex-presidents, are manning the grill. Alright, old-timers!? We call out, wrapping them each in a quick hug.

"Did you hear that, Butch?" my dad says, feigning heartbreak. Butch grins, raising the plate.

"Too right, Bear. Maybe we ought to give these steaks to the dogs, since the youngsters don't appreciate ' em!" Butch says, hoisting up a plate loaded with steaks and veggies.

Having secured victory against the Pit-bosses with the help of their wives, we headed for the picnic tables, only to find there wasn't enough space at any one table for both of us.

"We could sit in the grass," I suggested, pointing out an abandoned picnic blanket. Georgie grinned, falling in step beside me, but before I got far, a strong arm snaked round my waist.

“You two are more than welcome at our table," West murmured, his lips dangerously close to my ear, making my skin tingle in the very best way.

"Sure, we'll join you," Georgie said, smirking knowingly as she steered us towards West and Dex's table already crowded with our brothers, who never missed a chance to attend a club party.

Sitting, West promptly yanked me into his and JJ's lap. ‘Well, this isn't awkward.' I thought, shooting Georgie a look; she was likewise perched atop Dex and Bry's thighs, absolutely living her best life.

At least until the ‘hangers-on’ strutted in, draped in their finest negligee.

"Blade, Ax," purred the ringleader of the bare-legged brigade, eyes flicking between Dex and West, chest thrust out so far, I worried she'd topple over. With an exaggerated pout, she surveyed the table. “Oh no, no room for us?” she whined, her tongue seductively darting out to wet her bottom lip as her eyes locked onto West.

"Maybe those two can find somewhere else to sit," suggested Liz, one of her loyal sidekicks, waving a limp hand at Georgie as if to imply we were interlopers. "Or you could jog on," Instantly wishing I'd told her where to shove her idea.

Smirking, Ashly leaned over and whispered something in West's ear; standing, she raised an eyebrow at him. "Well ?" she pressed. West, ever the gentleman, extricated himself from beneath me, leaving me to collapse gracelessly into his vacated seat.

Walking around the table, Liz made a show of dragging Dex away, leaving Georgie abandoned and looking about as thrilled as a cat at bath time. 'Perfect, Nothing like public humiliation to keep the ego in check.'

Before our night ended, we had yet another run-in with Ashly and Liz, who reminded us that Dex and West always picked them over us. We pointed out that letting them play tonsil tennis with their balls didn't mean they'd ever make it onto their bikes no brother wifes community property.