Uppercut Princess: A Dark High School Romance (The Heights Crew Book 1)

by E. M. Moore

  “I need to take a shower,” I say, realizing the places where Johnny touched me are like pock marks on my otherwise smooth skin. It’s not an imprint I want on my body for any longer than it has to be.

  “You can trust me,” Brawler says, trying again.

  I don’t bother answering. I can’t trust anyone but myself. And shit, I can’t even trust myself. I got caught up in Johnny’s world for a second. In his sweet words and actions that had another meaning all together.

  I stand from the armchair and move toward the bathroom. The second overdose of adrenaline is leaving, and I’m about to crash. A nap is in order after this, I think.

  “What the…?” Brawler follows me, his angry steps stomping behind me. “He did fucking hurt you!”

  Brawler’s hand clamps around my shoulder. I look over my shoulder, my gaze catching on a bloody spot I left on the tan recliner.

  I sigh. “There was an…altercation,” I say, for lack of a better term. I don’t really know what all that was. Johnny being a dick? But also, Johnny doesn’t know any other way to be.

  “Why did you tell me he didn’t hurt you?”

  I turn, knocking his hand off me. “You know in a fight when there’s so much hype and energy around you. Sometimes you can get hit straight in the face and not even feel it because you’re so focused? I didn’t realize.”

  He nods, understanding written all over his features. “Can I see it?”

  From the looks of the blood on the recliner, I don’t know if it’s just what was on my shirt that seeped through or if I’m bleeding again. I turn so he can get a good view. “Johnny cleaned it up once.”

  Brawler pauses as he grips my shirt. After what I said sinks in, he pulls the shirt up, placing it in his other hand to leave his other hand free to inspect.

  “What’s it look like?”

  “Looks like you got slammed into something.”

  “That’s about right,” I say, humor lacing my voice. I don’t know why I think that’s funny. It’s really not. If anyone else had done that to me in a fight, I would’ve given it back to them worse. I can’t do that where Johnny is concerned though.

  He lets the shirt back down. “It’s still seeping a little. After you take a shower, I’ll put some bandages on it.”

  “So, you can touch me? Magnum seemed to think he’d end up in a ditch somewhere if he tried to help.”

  “Don’t trust anyone that fucking close to them,” Brawler grinds out.

  I turn, letting my shirt fall naturally. “But I can trust you?”

  “Yes,” he says, voice firm, like he’s never been more sure of something his whole life.

  I press my lips together, still not willing to believe it. Turning, I leave Brawler behind me as I make my way into the bathroom to take a shower. The shower stings at first, as does the soap running into the cut, but I let it happen, wanting it to be as clean as it can be before Brawler puts a bandage on it. When I get out, I wrap up in a towel, leaving my upper back bare while covering everything else up. My hair’s damp from the shower, clinging to my neck, so I move it over my other shoulder and walk back out into the living room.

  An array of first aid materials sits on the counter. Brawler must’ve run to his own apartment because I don’t have much here. I have a tiny First-Aid kit under the bathroom sink but that’s it.

  “Have a seat,” he says, pulling out the stool that sits next to my kitchen bar. The Formica is chipped in some places, but it doesn’t look half bad. It’s like everything else in this apartment. It’s not terrible.

  I place my foot on the rung and heave myself up there, making sure to keep my towel closed as I give Brawler my back.

  “Take that pill there,” he says, motioning toward the glass of water and small white pill next to me on the bar. “Then place that ice pack on your forehead.”

  Oh look, an actual ice pack. I do as he says and lean over, resting my elbow on the bar while holding the ice pack to my forehead.

  “This looks a lot better,” he says, voice lowering. “Is it okay if I put some ointment on it?”

  “Please,” I tell him, my throat suddenly very dry. After what happened this morning, I’ve realized I’m sitting here in a towel and Brawler’s about to touch me again. “Can I reach it myself?” I ask, pulling away.

  “Just let me do it,” he says.

  I try to relax, turn back around, and steel myself for Brawler’s hands. When they finally touch me, it’s just a grazing like he doesn’t want to hurt me. He runs his fingertips over the wound, and I suck in a sharp breath.

  He yanks his hands away. “Sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” I say. It had less to do with the fact that he hurt me and more to do with the fact that I liked it. “It’s okay.”

  He places his fingers back on my skin, quickly rubbing the ointment in this time before walking over to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. When he moves back over, he places a pad over my throbbing skin and then uses Band-Aids to make it stick.

  When he finishes, his fingers trail down my back for a moment before he pulls away and takes a step back. “Done,” he says. “You’ll be fine, it’s just a few cuts that bled.”

  I turn to look at the armchair, remembering I have to clean the blood up, but it’s already gone. Stepping off the stool, I face Brawler who’s packing everything back up. “You cleaned the chair?”

  He shrugs.

  “Thanks,” I mutter. The tension in the room thick like hovering storm clouds. Everything in me is telling me I can trust Brawler, but if I can and I take him up on it, I’ll just be sucking him into my story and that’s not good either. He doesn’t need to go down with me if this all turns south. “I’m taking a nap,” I tell him. “If Johnny told you you had to stay with me, you don’t. I’ll be fine.”

  “I actually have to go do something,” Brawler says. He places the last gauze pad back in the box and stands. “I’ll tell whoever comes to stand outside. Okay?”

  “Outside outside, right? Meaning outside the apartment?”

  He nods.

  “Thanks,” I tell him.

  He turns away, avoiding my gaze. “Don’t mention it.”

  I hesitate for only another moment before I head to my room, closing the door behind me, and flicking the lock in place. If someone else is coming over and it’s not Brawler, I don’t want them to have access to me.

  15

  Sometime later, someone knocks on my door. Not my apartment door, but my bedroom door. I’d been staring at the ceiling after taking a nap, going through different scenarios based on what happened today, but never really finding myself a way out except for the way I’d already planned. I know I just have to sit back and play the game.

  “Yeah?” I call out, taking the now warm ice pack off my forehead. My voice comes out all raspy like I haven’t used it in a while.

  “Babe?”

  My heart stills. I throw the covers off me and stand from the bed only to stare at the closed door. Johnny’s on the other side of that door. Immediately, I will myself to move forward to let him in. I flip the lock back over and peek out.

  He smiles when he sees me. His gaze drops, scanning the length of me, making me acutely aware of the thin tank top and booty shorts I threw on right before I laid down a few hours go. “Oscar said he hadn’t seen you in a while.”

  “Oscar?”

  Johnny pushes through the open door. “He’s been outside.”

  I run my hands through my hair, trying to make myself a little presentable. “I hadn’t realized.”

  Johnny looks on this side of the door, inspecting my lock. Then, he just lets the door stay open without comment. Out in the apartment, the footrest is being raised on the lone recliner I have in there. Probably Oscar.

  “Where are your guardians?” Johnny asks.

  “Not around,” I tell him. “They never are.”

  He cocks his head to the side, his gaze still sweeping over me like he can’t possibly just look me in the eyes w
hen I’m dressed like this. “They just let you live alone?”

  “Is it weird that they don’t care?” I ask defensively. “I thought that was normal, especially when you’re used to being a ward of the state.” Really, I just don’t want him snooping around in my background. It’s as airtight as I could get it, but I’m sure the Heights Crew has far greater resources than me. That’s why I have to get them to trust me.

  “I just feel bad for my girl,” Johnny says, stepping closer to me. He cups my cheek with one hand and moves the other around my back, hand slipping under my tank top.

  I shrug. “I like being alone.”

  He pulls me toward him possessively. “I hope you don’t include me in that.”

  I raise a smile toward him. “Of course not,” I say, heart beating. Confusion grips me. There’s only one reality, but I get so lost in the other sometimes.

  A groan pours from him. His hand moves lower, squeezing my ass. “I can’t believe you were hiding this body away. Fuck me, Kyla.” His hand kneads my ass, and I stand completely still. “Your hair has this just-fucked look,” he growls.

  “It’s called just waking up,” I tell him, smiling, so he knows I’m teasing. Or, at least, I hope he does. This is my attempt not to poke the beast. I can’t fight back when it comes to Johnny, so I don’t need to be on the other end of his anger either.

  “Whatever it is, it looks amazing on you.” He edges his chin down, staring at my cleavage. My skin heats at his attention. “I wonder if I should take just one look…”

  I swallow, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. If he looks, I’m afraid he won’t be able to come back from it. He’s already threading a dangerous line. “Do you want to torture yourself?” I ask, pulling his hands away from me and stepping back. “I bet your father has eyes and ears everywhere,” I say, nodding toward the apartment. Yep, I’m throwing Oscar under the bus, but I don’t care. “What happens if you have me before your father says you can?”

  This gives Johnny pause. Thankfully.

  “Plus, I’ll be worth the wait.”

  He takes a deep breath, resigning himself—I hope—that right now is not the time for where his mind was headed. After a few moments, he shakes his head. “I forgot the reason I came over here. Turn around. Let me see how you’re doing.”

  “Oh,” I say, a little surprised that he would come over to check on me. I mean, he’s the one who put it there. “I put a Band-Aid on it,” I say, the lie feeling right on my lips. If Johnny knew Brawler was the one to do it, he wouldn’t be happy.

  “Well, turn around anyway,” he says. “I want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  I turn and immediately his presence looms over me. His fingers move around the thin tank top strap and gently guide it down. His heated breath hits my skin first, making it tingle, then the soft pressure of his lips linger over the pad Brawler placed there, and I shiver.

  “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he says, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think there was genuine remorse in his voice. Who knows? Maybe there is. Johnny might be a victim of his circumstances just like me. His morality is skewed because of the way he was raised. It’s okay to dick around. Respect is everything. He has no empathy or concern for those who aren’t in the Heights Crew. I don’t know. I can only say that I’m just glad I hadn’t grown up like that.

  He kisses the area again and then moves my tank top strap back into place, muttering something about marring such a beautiful canvas.

  I blink. The guy could be a poet if he wasn’t a gangster. No wonder why women flock to him. It’s not just because girls think he’s their only way out. He’s smooth. He’s charming. He’s got bad boy polish written all over him.

  I turn to face him. “I’m glad you stopped by.”

  “Me too,” he says. He looks around the bedroom, and my heart explodes in my chest again, taking off with a sprint. It’s not as if anyone could tell I have a hidden compartment in that shelf, but it still makes me nervous he’s in the same room with the one thing that could take me down. Then again, there’s also a gun in there. I’d use it on him to protect my aunt and uncle. I made a promise to myself long ago that no one else would get mixed up in this. This is my story, and my story alone.

  “I’m sorry I had to take off earlier…and that I’m about to do the same again.” He smiles hesitantly like he hopes I’m not mad. “Father and I have an important business meeting.”

  I nod. Tentatively, I reach up and run my fingers down his angular face. “I know you have other commitments.”

  His jaw tenses, then he moves forward, taking me with him until my back is pressed against the wall. His hips sink into mine, and his hot breath caresses my throat. “God,” he groans. “It’s not fair that you get me so hot.”

  I’m thrown by his outburst. All I did was graze my fingertips over his cheek. It’s not like he’s starved for attention. He fucked someone mere hours ago. I don’t get it. It must be the fact that he can’t have me. I’m probably the only girl in the Heights who he can’t have and it’s driving him crazy.

  He moans again, the sound filling the room. “Kyla?”

  “Yeah?” I choke out. His dick’s getting harder by the second, pressing into me. I’m trying to think of anything but, but it’s hard.

  Ha. Literally.

  “Can I kiss you?”

  My mouth drops. It’s a good thing he’s not looking at my face right now. His head’s buried in the crook of my shoulder as he wrangles his breath. I didn’t take Johnny for the kind who asked if he could kiss. I took him as the kind who would just take what he wanted. Why are all these Crew members so difficult to understand?

  “I—”

  A knock sounds on the apartment door. “Fuck,” Johnny spits. “That’s Magnum.” A second later, the voices of Magnum and Oscar fill the living room.

  I expel the breath I’d been holding in my chest. “He’s here to take you to the business meeting?” I guess.

  Johnny nods to confirm my suspicions. He moves away, and fresh air winds its way around me. It’s hard not to react to Johnny. The attraction is completely physical. He’s good looking. He’s a charmer. He’s good at seducing.

  I look away to get a hold of myself. Jesus Christ. I’m sick.

  “I have to go,” Johnny says. “Oscar’s staying with you.”

  “I really don’t need anyone to stay with me,” I hedge, finding something to fixate on other than the hitch in my breath.

  Johnny smiles. “It’s just part of being with me, babe. You need protection. Trust me. If you don’t want Oscar, just tell me.”

  I shrug. It’s not Oscar at all. I don’t like the fact I’m being watched twenty-four-seven. “It’s not him.”

  “Okay,” Johnny says, giving me a small smile.

  “Rocket?” Magnum calls from the living room.

  “Be right there,” Johnny says. He takes my hand and turns toward me again. “If any of them bother you, you just let me know. Okay?” he asks, eyebrows raising.

  I nod in response. Oddly, it’s not Brawler or Oscar I have to worry about. It’s the one reminding me to tell him if anything is wrong.

  He pulls me to him, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. “I’ll call you tonight.”

  “Okay,” I say. He walks out into the apartment, and I wait in the doorframe. Magnum nods at me and then they both leave.

  Oscar makes himself comfortable in the recliner as soon as they exit. He throws his arms behind his head. “Please tell me you have something to fucking eat in here. I’m starving.”

  “Seriously?”

  He shrugs. “What?”

  “Were you in my apartment the whole time?”

  “Yes,” he says, his voice unapologetic. “Rocket got us keys.”

  “How did Rocket get keys?”

  “The super, I imagine.” He shrugs again. “It’s not like I asked but trust me when I say that pretty much anyone will bend over backward to do whatever the Crew needs.”

 
“Really? Is that how it works? Maybe you can summon some food up here then if you’re that hungry.”

  He laughs exaggeratingly then cuts himself off, glaring my way.

  His stare makes me remember I’m barely wearing any clothes. I walk back into my bedroom and change quickly. When I come back out, Oscar’s just hanging up the phone. “I hope you like Chinese. There’s this bomb Chinese restaurant on the corner. They’re going to run some food up for us.”

  Mildly impressed, I turn the TV on and take a seat at one of the bar stools since Oscar’s occupying the only comfortable chair in the room.

  “Ooh, Netflix?” Oscar asks.

  “You know it.” I flip through the offerings and head toward the series I’ve been watching about a stalker. When Oscar asks what it’s about, I start to explain it to him, but then I decide to start over from episode one since I’m only three episodes deep anyway.

  Ten minutes into the first episode, someone knocks on the door and Oscar hops right out of the chair. I fumble with the remote to pause the show, so he doesn’t miss anything.

  He approaches the door silently, then reaches into the corner and grabs a bat. My eyes round. I hadn’t seen it stashed there. He holds it behind the door as he answers it. When he sees who it is, he relaxes and places the bat back in the corner and pulls his wallet out.

  After he pays the delivery guy, he sets a few boxes out on the counter. I smirk, wanting to tease him that he actually paid for the food instead of using his status in the Crew, but I actually like that he did that. People shouldn’t be using fear to get what they want. That’s just sad.

  Oscar and I fall into an easy silence as we watch the show and eat food. In between when the credits are rolling and before the next episode starts, we chat about what we just watched. It all seems so normal; I almost have to pinch myself. It’s like I can forget Johnny’s probably off doing something illegal with his father. Or that Brawler left me earlier, sexual tension practically ringing off us both. I can even overlook that Oscar brought his bat with him in case he needed to use it to protect us. And, oh, I’m actually forgetting that Oscar’s here because I’m Johnny Rocket’s girl and apparently, I have to be watched now.