by Tracey Ward
My palms began to itch. I looked over Jenner’s head to see the girl. “Do you want to stay here with him?” I asked her plainly.
She shook her head, her watery eyes locked on mine like I was a raft in the middle of the empty ocean.
“Do you want to go home?”
“Yes,” she croaked.
Jenner shoved me in the chest.
It surprised the hell out of me, but more than anything it pissed me off. My blood roared angry in my veins but I breathed deeply, trying to pull it down.
“She leaves when I say she leaves,” Jenner growled.
I shook my head in amazement. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“Go home and sleep it off. You’ll have plenty of other chances to emotionally abuse her later, but tonight she’s finished.”
He stepped closer until we were nearly nose to nose. It was a bad move on his part. I didn’t like feeling caged.
“You think you’re such hot shit just because the girls here get wet when you walk down the hall,” he whispered, his voice stale and hot in my face, “but you’re nothing and they know it. Enjoy it while it lasts because in another year you’ll be working some construction job putting money in my dad’s pocket and none of them will ever look at you again.”
“Easy,” I said darkly. “You don’t want to go hurting my feelings.”
He grinned drunk and sloppy, his breath rebounding off my face. It stunk of whisky and pot. Suddenly he stepped back, taking me by surprise again. It was really starting to annoy me. I became very interested in watching his hands. His shoulders. The footing he chose. If he threw a punch, I wanted to know where it was coming from.
“You know what? Fine. Take her. Have fun with her.” He stepped aside, gesturing for the girl to pass like he was a perfect gentleman who had just opened a door for her. “You’ll do me a favor by bangin’ her, poor boy. The little brat can call you ‘daddy’.”
The girl dropped her hand from her mouth to glare at him. “You’re such a jerk!” she sobbed.
“She calls you ‘daddy’?” the other guy snickered. “Girl is a freak.”
I held my hand out to her. “Come on. Let’s go.”
She nodded as she stepped toward me. She reached out her hand to take mine, but just as she was putting her back to him, Jenner made one last move.
He pressed his burning joint to the exposed skin of her hand.
She jerked back with a surprised cry, her eyes going wide with pain.
That’s when I lost it.
I came at him from the side and grabbed his hand holding the joint. I got a grip on his thumb and yanked back roughly until he cried out.
Almost immediately I took a hit from behind. I can’t say I was surprised, but I was still angry. Jenner’s friend knocked me to the ground, snapping my neck back hard and crushing me under his shockingly hefty weight. Dry, dead grass and sand scraped against my skin as I pushed off against the ground, immediately using all the leverage I could find to lift him up and off me. I was able to throw him back before he could square himself over me and pin me down, but Jenner jumped on in his place, shoving me to the ground again.
I saw a bright pink blur fly past my face, heard Jenner cry out and go limp for a second. It was all the time I needed. I pushed up again, taking him with me and making my arms shout with exertion. I was able to throw him off before he got himself together. I jumped forward, landing on my hands and knees looking down at dark earth and the girl’s shoes.
Bright pink. She’d kicked Jenner in the face.
I stood up just as his buddy was getting to his feet, his face contorted with rage, his nostrils flaring as he sucked in huge lungful’s of salty sea air.
He lunged at me, but I’d had enough. It was stupid and reckless of me, but I was done holding back.
I fell into my fighting stance, centered my weight, reared back my right hand, and landed a punch to his face that used all of my strength and all of his forward momentum. We connected violently, my hand screaming as the skin on my knuckles split on his cheek bone, but the guy dropped to the ground. He went dead weight, his bell completely rung.
Jenner sat up, looked at his friend, looked at me, and swore loudly. He came at me, driving in low and grabbing me around the waist. I was waiting for him. I grabbed him under the shoulders, spun with his hit, and threw him out across the ground. He skidded on his side, the sandy forest floor gathering around him. He recovered quickly and came at me again, but I put a fist in his stomach.
“Oooof,” he bellowed, the air escaping his body fiercely. He stood bent over, gasping slightly with his hands on his knees.
I could have walked away. More than likely I would have still ended up in a world of trouble for the fight, but I wasn’t beyond saving yet. I could have called it done, walked the girl to her car, and worried about the repercussions later. It probably would have been the smart thing to do, but I was seventeen. I was young, dumb and full of… well, I was young and dumb, and I was also angry. So very angry. And you can’t unleash the beast sleeping inside you, let him have a snack, and expect him to go back to bed no problem.
The animal was out. He was awake. And he wanted to play.
Jenner stood as straight as he could, murder in his eyes, and he made a run at me. I hit him in the face once. Twice. He fell back a step, blood pouring from his mouth, but he growled low and crouched to make another attempt.
Part of me was excited to see him coming.
What saved us both was the cops. Suddenly voices were coming through the trees from the direction of the bonfire. Flashlights swept the space, cutting through the darkness and casting long, jagged shadows over the ground.
“Everybody out here, now!” a woman shouted sternly.
I backed away from Jenner. He leaned over, a fine line of spit hanging from his open, gasping mouth that shone brightly in the police flashlights.
I knew I was screwed. My hands were aching, his face was a wet mess, and two cops were making their way into the small clearing. As they closed in on us, their flashlights blinding each of us in turn, I glanced at the girl. She was standing at the edge of the clearing with her eyes on me. I didn’t know what I expected to find there. Fear. Sadness. Gratitude.
What I found was nothing.
“Alright, everyone,” a male cop droned, sounding tired. “All of you come on out here. Let’s see some ID.”
Jenner’s dad was an architect who designed a big portion of the buildings in Orange County. I was pretty sure the other guy’s dad owned a chain of sporting goods stores up and down the coast. I didn’t know what the girl’s dad did, but I was sure it was more than mine ever had. I was sure it’d be enough to make sure she slept in her own bed that night.
But me? I didn’t have enough connections to get out of trouble with a mall cop, let alone evade the shit storm rolling my way.
I was going to jail.
End of Sample.
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About the Author
I was born in Eugene, Oregon and studied English Literature at the University of Oregon (Go Ducks!) I love writing all kinds of genres from YA Dystopian to New Adult Romance, the common themes between them all being strong character development and a good dose of humor.
My husband, son, and snuggly pitbull are my world.
Visit my website for more information on upcoming releases, Tracey Ward