Chapter 22

twenty-two

HENDRIX

Thursday morning, as per usual, I sat on the tailgate of Wolf's truck, exchanging baggies of weed for ten bucks. I'd just passed over the last bag when a truck with a straight exhaust roared into Dayton High's parking lot. A group of Barrington preps wearing their stupid letterman jackets filled the bed, Ethan Taylor and his bruised face smack dab in the middle.

"Here we go…" Wolf huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dumbasses coming over here, trying to start shit. Just don't hit him."

And based on the way my blood pressure shot up when my gaze landed on that piece of shit, that was going to be a problem. "How long is the sentence for assault, anyway?"

"You really want to let a Barrington asshole win?"

Win? Like a breathing tube and a long stint in the ICU was winning. "Fuck you and your reasoning skills, Wolf."

The truck barrelled down the row of shitty cars. I fully expected it to come to a screeching halt in front of Wolf's truck, but it didn't slow down. If anything, it went a little faster.

"Dude…" Wolf scowled, plucking the joint from behind his ear. "What the hell are they doing?"

The vehicle made an abrupt swerve toward us, and we jumped up, scrambling over the roof and launching ourselves to the ground. A loud, metallic bang rang out before Wolf's truck lurched forward in the spot.

"That dickhead just hit my truck!" Wolf's face reddened as a crowd of frowning Dayton students circled around.

The angry demons inside of me screeched. If Ethan wanted my fist in his face, that was a damn good way to get it.

Wolf shoved my back. "Don't do it, Hendrix."

I waved a hand at the crumpled tailgate and shattered taillight plastic decorating the pavement. "He fucked up your truck, man."

"And their daddy's insurance is going to pay to fix it."

We stepped out from between the cars, and a handful of the Barrington guys hopped over the bed of the shiny, now-dented truck. The letterman jackets parted, and Ethan moved forward, a smug smile on his battered face.

The memory of him pressing Lola against that wall surfaced, and every muscle in my body coiled, begging for release by way of my fists to that asshole's skull.

Ethan jabbed a finger at me. "You and your slut girlfriend torched my car."

Liquid rage fired through my veins. I hadn't realized I'd moved to lunge at him until Wolf latched onto me like a pitbull on a leash.

"Oh, that a sore spot?" His face lit up with delight, and the brave little shit took another step toward me. "She sucks dick like a champ."

The rumble of anger echoed through my head. I imagined taking his head and slamming it into the front grill until his bleached teeth scattered the asphalt, then taking a bat to his ribs until he couldn't draw in a good breath.

"Get the hell outta here," Wolf said, his hold on me still tight.

Ethan took one more step toward me that I swore would be his last. "Not even going to defend her?" he said, the sarcasm in his voice grating every thin nerve I had.

"There are a lot of rich-dick witnesses, dude." Wolf yanked me back again. "Save it."

I wasn't saving shit.

I jerk in his hold, and my shirt ripped. The second I broke free, the smartass smirk on Ethan's face dropped.

"What's the matter, fuckface?" I took a step, fists clenched so tight my knuckles ached. "Scared?"

He tried to fold back into his flock like a little pussy, and I could practically smell him shitting his pants. "I'm not scared of your ass, Hunt."

"Hendrix…" Wolf called from behind me.

A few "Come on, Hunt. Beat his ass" came from the crowd.

Everyone here expected a bloodbath. Based on my reputation, Ethan and every one of these dickheads should be sprawled out on the concrete. But this wasn't one of our usual encounters. I'd noticed the phones recording. I'd seen the text thread. But as long as I didn't hit him…

"Then step your ass up, Taylor." I jutted my chin. "Get in my face if you aren't a limp-dick, lying pussyfuck."

Laughter came from the group of Dayton students surrounding us when I snatched Ethan's stupid jersey, jerking him toward me. What I really wanted to do was choke him out, right there, in the parking lot.

"You keep my girl's name out of your stupid-ass mouth."

He flinched away when I leaned in by his ear.

"Or I'll cut your fucking tongue out and wipe my ass with it."

"Gentlemen!" Brown's monotone voice came from behind me. A clap sounded. "Break it up!"

I let go of Ethan's jersey, then gave him a nice little shove. He fell back into his group of worthless friends, face white.

"What is going on here?" Brown shouldered through the crowd of students, his stern glare shifting from me to the Barrington guys. "Shouldn't you boys be at your own school causing problems?"

"No problems here, sir," Harford said, jerking his chin to signal to the rest of them it was time to go. "Just a friendly visit to stir a little school rivalry before the game this weekend." His attention went to me. "Right, Hunt?"

"Yep. They just came by to remind us of what little bitches they are."

The group of students around us thinned out when the rich kids climbed into the bed of their truck. The engine revved.

"Tell your girl I said hey, Hunt," Ethan shouted before they sped off.

Brown's attention moved to me. "Whatever is going on between you two boys, keep it off school grounds."

Fuming, I turned around and headed toward the building, Wolf right beside me.

"You know you can't kill him, right?" he asked when we stepped through the entrance.

"I can. There just can't be witnesses."

"Come on, dude. Don't screw with me. I can't tell when you're joking about stuff like this."

The problem was, neither could I.

"Don't worry about me." I passed through the metal detectors, my blood pressure still boiling.

Judging from the way the students crowding the hall scrambled to get out of my way, the anger must have been evident on my face.

Tell your girl I said hey. That comment burned through me, and what burned through me more was the fact that I'd had to stand there.

The tardy bell rang just as I shoved open the restroom door, then launched my fist into the graffitied cinder block wall. "Fuck!" I punched the same spot, again and again, imagining it was Ethan's face, imagining it was whoever the hell Lola had cheated on me with.

With each blow that landed against the concrete, each jolt of pain that ricocheted up my arm, a small bit of my rage disappeared. But not enough. Because while I was pissed as hell at Ethan, the person I was really mad at was myself.

He only had to mention her damn name to send me over the edge. I'd sworn after my mom had died, after our uncle who was supposed to take care of us had bailed, that I would never care more about someone than they did me. And that was exactly what I was doing with Lola. There was nothing in this rotten world I wanted more than her. No one I cared more about. And I was just a little puppet, letting her play with the strings she'd eventually cut in two.

I rinsed the blood from my knuckles, wrapped my hand in a paper towel, then headed to class.

The door clicked open, and Smith turned from the whiteboard, her gaze widening when it dropped to my shirt. "Oh, uh-uh, Jeffrey Dahmer. You stop your killing-spree butt right there!"

She capped her marker and went to her desk. "Like I'm gonna let you sit in here all covered in Lord only knows whose blood. Ripped shirt." She shook her head before crossing the room. "Get on down to the nurse's office and clean that mess off of you. Probably need to go ahead and send up some prayers for forgiveness, ‘cause your ass is surely on its way to hell."

I snatched the pass from her outstretched hand and left the room. I was not in the mood to argue with that batshit-crazy woman today.

Halfway down the empty hall, footsteps came from behind me. "Hendrix!"

Of course, Lola would come after me. Up the hill, down the hill. Loop de loop.

Clenching my jaw, I turned around just before her Converse skidded to a stop in front of me.

Her panicked gaze moved from my blood-splattered shirt to my busted hand and finally my untouched face. "Are you okay?"

I was so tired of her acting like she cared. I miss you, too. We're just friends. Fuck me, Hendrix. Don't fuck me. No. I was tired of wanting her to care.

My gaze dropped from the eyes I used to lose myself in to lips I used to kiss without needing to ask permission. Like Lola-Fucking-Stevens had a right to give a crap if I was okay.

I wasn't.

I hadn't been. Because of her. All because when it came to her, I had zero control over my anger, my want, my dignity. "Oh, is today one of the days you give a shit?" My tone was harsh, the same shithead tone I took with girls I didn't care about.

She frowned. "I've never not given a shit about you. And you know it."

I had to place a hand on one of the lockers to steady myself and laugh at that one. Because that was bullshit. I would never betray someone I cared about. "Yeah," I said, turning my back to her. "It's been absolutely crystal clear, punk."

That time, the echo of her footfalls didn't follow behind me.