Make Me Yours

by Kar, Alla

  “Fuck,” she screams out. I climb on top, and slug her a few times.

  I’m going for the fifth blow when someone grabs me and pulls me off of her. “Calm down,” Taylor says in my ear. “Stop fighting me.”

  I’m still kicking. “Stupid bitch!” I yell.

  She staggers up, eyes wide, blood trickling down her cheek and her lip. She sniffles, and a few blonde girls help her up and they disappear down the hallway into the bathroom.

  Taylor tosses me over his shoulder and drops me on the ground once we get outside. He goes to his knees and examines my face. “You’re not hurt?” he asks.

  I shake my head and try to comb my hair. “Damn it,” I say, straightening my dress.

  Taylor is smiling down at me, a proud look in his eyes. “Well, I didn’t know you were a little fighter, Lay. You whooped her ass.”

  I shrug and stand up. “I grew up in a trailer park. I was around it.” Taylor is still smiling. “She says she was seeing you.”

  Taylor lifts an eyebrow. “She did, did you set her straight?”

  I smirk and stand up. “What do you think?”

  He laughs, and kisses me. Cindy comes running out a few moments later, holding my shoes in her hand. “You left your shoes…I mean my shoes. You better be glad I got them, or you’d be fighting me next.” She is out of breath, but she throws me the shoes. “Not like I would want to, you bet the hell out of her.”

  Taylor wraps his arm around me. “I think we’ve got a little Rocky here.”

  I roll my eyes and sigh. “I think I’m ready to go home.”

  Mittens is sleeping between Taylor and I when I wake up. She is purring, sleeping in a tight, gray ball. I smile over at her and rub my fingers over her fur.

  “I think Mittens has a thing for me, but,” Taylor says stretching, “can you blame her?”

  I roll my eyes and my cheeks start to burn. I whooped a girl’s ass last night over him.

  “Of course not,” I roll my eyes, “everyone wants Taylor BadAss, didn’t you hear?” I ask, throwing the covers off of me.

  He laughs and grabs my waist pinning me below him on the bed. His hair is mushed against his forehead, his tattooed arms on either side of me. “You wanted me,” he whispers. “You just didn’t want to say it.”

  I squirm underneath him and smile. He is right. I had wanted him, I still do. “Well,” I hold up an inch, “maybe a little.”

  He laughs. “You did beat the hell out of a girl for me.”

  “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

  He shakes his head back and forth. “Not a chance. Now, get ya sexy fighting ass up, we’ve got to go to school.”

  Taylor sits by me in Literature of the South. Several girls are staring at us again, it’s been a while since we’ve even come to class. Taylor watches as a few girls from the front row turn around and sneer. He waves at them and nuzzles his mouth into my neck. I slap at him but he grunts and makes a loud moaning sound.

  “You better fucking stop it,” I say, swatting at him.

  He pulls me closer, sliding his tongue against my neck.

  “Mr. Jacks,” Dr. Walter says. “I suggest you learn how to contain yourself around your female friend.” She gives a weak smile and pushes her glasses up.

  Taylor wipes at the corner of his mouth and smiles. “I am. But, hell, can you blame me? Look at her?” He gestures toward me. Heat rises in my ears.

  “Try,” Dr. Walter says, before starting to write on the board.

  I shove him with my elbow and he laughs underneath his breath. We’re halfway through class when I feel someone staring at me. At first, I figured it was just some sorority girl that has a crush on Taylor, but then it starts to feel different.

  I glanced around the auditorium and my eyes centered in on David. His eyes are narrowed, and I see a slight cut and stich above his right eyebrow. My mouth becomes dry. This is not happening. How could I have not seen him before?

  “What’s wrong, hustler?”

  I direct my eyes toward David, who is still staring at me. Taylor glances over and his arm clenches around me. “Don’t worry,” he whispers.

  “He is texting. I bet he’s texting Rod,” I say, my foot tapping erratically.

  “Shhh, baby,” he whispers again, his mouth to my ear. “We’ll take care of it after class. We’ll be fine, I swear it.”

  My phone buzzes and I open my text from Cindy.

  What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?

  David is here.

  The guy from the pool hall?

  I shove my phone back in my pocket and turn to look at her. I nod. Her eyes widen and she pokes Brett to tell him.

  Taylor stays calm, tapping his fingers on the back of my desk. It’s been the longest damn hour of class I’ve ever been through. When Dr. Walter finally dismisses us, Taylor grabs me, hurls me over his shoulder and carries me out of the classroom. Which, is rather unnecessary but I feel safe. I can see Taylor’s ass and that’s it, but I know that we have made it outside.

  “Fuck,” Taylor says, slinging me down to stand up.

  “What is it?” I ask, glancing around. We’re in front of the cafeteria when I see Rod leaning against a tree, legs crossed, smiling right at us. “Oh, God. Let’s just go the other way, okay? Come on, Taylor.”

  He lets me pull at his arm, but never budges from his seat.

  Only a few students have noticed them staring at each other, but they all elbow and snicker behind their hands. “Layla, go stand over there with Brett.”

  I haven’t even noticed that Brett and Cindy are standing to the side. My hands began to shake. “No Tay-,”

  “Now,” he yells, snapping her head toward mine. His eyes are darker, widened and his hands are flinching.

  Turning, I walk toward Cindy, who grabs me and grips onto my shirt. Brett is almost bouncing watching Taylor walk toward Rod. “We’ll be okay, Taylor,” Brett reassures me. I’m not sure I believe him.

  Rod kicks off the tree, stomps his cigarette and cracks his neck. We’re not very far away, and I’m glad I can hear what they’re saying. But, as soon as Rod laughs, I get an eerie feeling that Taylor is going to explode on his ass.

  “So, you’re the one that whooped my ass the other day, huh? Mr. Taylor Jacks, right? Fight Night champion. Am I correct?”

  Taylor glares at him. “Who the fuck wants to know.”

  Rod laughs, examining his fingernail. “I just wanted to know before I beat the life out of you. I like to know my enemies, Taylor. You know why?” He pulls off his leather jacket, and my body runs cold.

  Taylor watches him carefully. “Why?”

  “So, I can deliver the bad news to the family. What is it? You look white? You don’t want me to go talk to Trent, your brother? Or Amy your little sister? We better not tell Daddy, he might beat you.” He smiles. “He beat you right? Your Mom and you?”

  My stomach drops from my stomach. His father beat him? By the look on Taylor’s face, I know it’s true. How could anyone beat him? My tongue is stuck to the roof and my mouth and my heart is beating erratically. That’s why he doesn’t have any pictures up of his family?

  Taylor’s fist closes and his knuckles turn white. “Aw, I guess I struck a nerve?” He pulls off his necklace. “So, you’re defending Layla’s honor right? The little hustling slut at the pool hall, I would expect better from you. Since you don’t seem like you can’t get some ass if you wanted some. These college girls love the bad-boy. The bad-boy fighter who can lift them and beat the fuck out of some drunken college wrestlers.”

  Taylor’s jaw flexes, and I can see the fury in his gray eyes from where I’m standing. I’m praying that a teacher sees and calls campus police. I’d rather have them escorted to the jail, than beating the fuck out of one another.

  “You kept your money, Rod. Why don’t you just give it up? Why don’t you just leave her alone?”

  Rod pulled off his fingerless motorcycle gloves and tosses them to the side. “What
a nice suggestion, Taylor. Wouldn’t that be wonderful for you and your little fuck buddy. But, I don’t forgive that easily. See,” he places his hand on his chest, “I can’t sleep at night until I know justice has been served. So, I suggest you step aside and let me take care of, Layla.”

  Taylor smiles and cracks his neck, but before Rod can say anything Taylor launches at him, sending a hard uppercut to his jaw. Rod steps back a few steps, different colored eyes wide. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that, Kid.”

  Rod runs at him, fist flying. They collide, Taylor drop kicking him, until he falls to the ground, gurgling. His punches Rod in the face repeatedly. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch David approach them, a busted beer bottle in his hand. “Oh, God,” I say, stepping forward. Brett tries to grab me, but I run toward David, jumping on his back, I slam my first into the side of his head, knocking him down.

  The beer bottle fumbles from his hands. I reach and grab it, holding it out to the side. I have no idea what I’ m doing, but I wave it at David as he walks toward me. I screech when he launches toward me, jutting the bottle out. He curses and grabs his wrist. I see the blood dripping and my stomach churns.

  Firm hands from behind me grab me and I scream. “Shh, it’s me,” Taylor says. “Come on the cops are coming,” he says. I keep the bottle in my hand as I run along with the rest of the crowd. I glance back at the tree but Rod is gone. Chills set in but I toss them away, hoping I’ll right this wrong soon.

  Brett takes Cindy home and says he’ll stay with her. I’ve glanced at Taylor a few times, he has a scratch on his cheek and a bloody shirt, but it’s not his blood. Thank God.

  He says nothing as he leads us toward his apartment. I can smell the blood on him, but I’m too much of a pansy ass to say anything.

  We go into his apartment, I shut the door behind me, fingers shaking. “What the fuck did you do that for?” Taylor turns around and slams his hand beside me on the door. “You could have been killed!” he screams.

  Opening my mouth I shut it, when he gives me a warning glance. I guess that’s a rhetorical question. “You could have…” he trails off, then grabs my chin in his calloused hands, “you tried to save me, Layla. You could have died.”

  “Rather me than you,” I say, biting my bottom lip. “This is my fault anyway.” A tear trails down my cheek and Taylor brushes it away.

  “This happens to me on a monthly basis. I’m prone to disasters, Lay.”

  I shrug. “I would guess so, you’re prone to me.” I toss my hands in the air, running them through my tangled blonde hair. “I can’t do this, I can’t put everyone in harm’s way.”

  Taylor grabs the back of my head and forces me to look at him. His gray eyes bear into mine, his full lips part. I want to run my arms over his tattooed chest, but I don’t. I keep my hands to myself.

  “You are not leaving me because of Rod. If you leave, it’d be a different reason.” He grabs my waist and pushes me against the wall. “I want to take you right now, Layla. You saved me. You stood up for me. No one has ever done that.”

  I’m shivering from pain. I know I can’t keep dragging him along. Today proved that. Who is next, Cindy? Eric? Mittens?

  He grips my nape and unzips my jeans. “I want you, Lay. I want you to give me a chance.” He rubs his jaw along my cheek, the scruff rubbing hardly against my soft skin.

  I look up at him and nod. “Take me,” I mumble against his lips.

  Taylor wraps me in his arms, warm and hard. I feel the bed beneath me and I shiver until he hovers over me. His lips trail along my jaw, tongue jutting out, leaving me shivering with need. He stares down at me, as I lift my hips so he can slide my jeans off. He tossed them to the side, pulling at his clothes until he is above me naked. He kisses me, and I kiss him back. I know I’m not going to be kissing him again. As much as I love the feel of his skin, I know it’s wrong. It’s wrong to put someone in danger.

  I lift my head to capture his mouth again, trailing my nails between his shoulder blades, over the protruding back muscles.

  Taylor kisses me fiercely finally rocking into me. I arch my back and grip his brown hair. He lets out a sigh, and pulls out again. “I’m going to make you feel good, baby.” He pulls my shirt above my head and unsnaps my bra with ease. My breasts spill free and he takes one in his mouth. He starts to move, at a steady pace, that’s torturous. He fills me up and pulls back. I wrap my legs around him and pull him deeper into me.

  “I want all of you,” I whisper.

  Taylor leans up and rocks into me. “You have it.”

  I’d run away before. Before my parent’s died. I had loaded up my backpack with candy, my Power Ranger cards and a Coke. My parents had been fighting, so I decided I better make a run for it. Dad caught me two blocks down, hiding out in a tree. The little boy that had watched me pointed right to the tree and said, “There she is.” I could have killed him.

  But, now it’s different. It’s still running away, but I’m older. I have the right. I have the right to take myself out of a situation I know I would hurt by staying. Taylor is lying on his back, arm twisted around his head. His tattoos open and a sheet wrapped around his lower half. I fight the urge to run my fingers over him one more time. But, that was what last night was for. I watched him sleep, ran my fingers over him. He took me several times, me screaming his name and convulsing around him. It was a memorable last night.

  Mittens yawns beside him, stretching her back, before curling back into Taylor’s side. Tears threaten to fall from my face, but I push them back. This is for the best. I’m pushing away before Taylor becomes a victim. Before Cindy is hurt or Brett is dragged into anything. And God knows Eric can’t defend himself.

  I grab my suitcase and shut the door behind me. I left the window in the living room unlocked last night. The alarm system is too complicated. I step outside and the cool air wraps around me. I half expect Taylor to pop up and offer me his jacket.

  Dumb, girl. I shake my head and walk toward the pool hall.

  It seems when you’re looking for someone, no one knows where to find them. I know each and every one of these suckers knows who Rod or David is. They all pretend I didn’t say anything or tell me to fuck off.

  Angry, I sit at the bar and run my fingers through my hair. I’ve had a thousand calls from Taylor, Cindy and Brett. I’ve turned my phone off. I just pray none of them come here. I figure they don’t think I’d sentence myself to death. But, I can’t risk him coming after them.

  “Hey, you’re Taylor’s girl? Layla, right?” I flinch when she says Taylor’s girl. I glance up and see the brunette from Fight Night. “You remember me? From Fight Night? I’m Becky.”

  I smile and offer her my hand. “Hi, Becky.”

  She slides in beside me and pushes up her cleavage. “Want a drink?” she asks me.

  I shake my head. “No, thanks.” I don’t need any alcohol in my system. I swing my legs and remember what Becky had told me at Fight Night. “Do you know Rod? You said you dated him, right?” I ask.

  She pops the top of her beer and nods, before taking a big long drink. I fight the urge to push the drink from her hands. First, because it’s nasty, second, because I need any help I can get.

  “Yea, use to date him.” She rolls her eyes. “In high school. What’d you do to piss him off so bad?” She flicks on a lighter and lights a cigarette.

  “Just some pool stuff, you know where I could find him? I need to speak with him about it.”

  She alternates between her cigarette and her beer. “Yeah, over on 45th avenue. He lives in apartment 2B. I’d knock first.”

  I was gonna knock alright.

  45th avenue is in a terrible neighborhood. The police patrol non-stop and there are thugs standing on each street corner. I get the taxi to drop me off right in front of the building. I can’t risk getting ganged rapped while I’m on a mission.

  I hide my belongings behind a bush and make my way to apartment 2B. I hear a few voices inside, and I know one is R
od. There is knocking against the wall, and the TV is playing loudly.

  I fidget with my shirt and take a gulp of air. The back of the apartment has a window that’s cracked. I peek in and see a bed that’s unmade, clothes and beer on the floor. I swallow and lift the window. Pulling myself up, I know what I’m doing is stupid, but I can’t let him hurt anyone. I search for the floor and crouch down as soon as I enter his home.

  The TV is loud from the living room, and I’m breathing so hard, I can barely make myself see straight. The floor creaks when I step and I screw my eyes shut. All I need is the advantage of surprise. I can beat him until he is begging for his life, then I’ll make a run for it. I’m not sure where, maybe back to Dallas? No, not there. Who knows?

  I can hear him laughing at the TV as I squeak the door open. The light flickers against the hallway wall, causing me to jump. Slipping my fingers around a baseball bat that is in the corner of his room, I stand and walk into the living room.

  He is sprawled out on the couch, legs under a blanket. His gaze flicks to mine. “What the fuck,” he yells, jumping to his feet.

  My heart begins to pound in my ears. “What are you doing here?” he asks, pushing his shirt sleeves up his arms.

  “I’m here so you won’t hurt my friends anymore.” I grip the bat and his eyes dart toward the movement. All the sudden he begins to laugh.

  “You’re gonna fight me, Layla? That’s not what I had in mind as a payment.”

  Vomit rises in my throat, and I take a swing, hitting him in the side. He crumbles to the floor, grabbing at his skin. “Fuuuccck, you stupid bitch.” He climbs to his feet and I can see the anger saturating his face. “I’m gonna fuck you, then kill your crazy hustling ass.”

  I hold onto the bat tight, as he walks toward me. I swing again but he ducks, sliding to the left. Panicking, I try to swing again, this time he catches the bat in his hand, snatching it from me. I stumble backwards, grabbing everything I can and tossing it at him. He covers his face, but the lamp I throw nicks his eye. A dark trail of red blood starts to trickle down his face. “You’re gonna fucking die, bitch.”