20. Monroe

TWENTY

monroe

The morning sun crept over the top of Frank's Famous Chicken. I could not deal with the thick smell of fried food this early.

Despite my telling him I didn't want anything, Zepp shoved a tray of food in front of me when he fell into the booth. I glanced at the chicken peeking out from the biscuit, the breading shiny with grease.

I did, however, take the paper cup of coffee, clutching it in my hands as I watched him. This was weird in the sense that it felt so normal. I had seen something of him last night that no one else had; something in those pictures made me long for the kind of connection I had always shunned so easily. Maybe pain just seeks company, and people like us needed someone just as broken to help us feel whole.

Zepp scarfed down half the container of hash browns. "Eat the biscuit, Roe."

"I don't really eat breakfast." I sipped my coffee. "And I sure as hell don't wake up half an hour early just to get some Frank's Famous Chicken. Who does that?"

"This shit is good. You're crazy."

I rolled my eyes and picked at a piece of biscuit. It seemed to appease him enough.

The door to the restaurant banged open. I glanced over Zepp's shoulder just as Max and Leah walked in. Max's eyes locked with mine for the briefest of moments; a sick smirk slipped over his lips. My stomach bottomed out, and it felt like insects were crawling over my skin. I dropped my gaze to the table.

"What's wrong?" Zepp asked before the click of crutches moved past our booth.

"I'm fine."

Zepp's gaze followed Max across the restaurant, anger churning from him like Niagara Falls. He looked like he was ready to blow.

The tension was like a lead weight on my shoulders. All I wanted to do was run so I didn't have to be in a room with that entitled asshole, but I forced myself to remain seated. Max Harford wasn't going to chase me out of anywhere. Not even Frank's Famous Chicken.

Shoving to his feet, Zepp snatched up his tray. His angry stare fixed on Max like he'd kill him if he even looked my way. I dumped my untouched food and walked to the door, trying to calm my racing pulse. I hadn't seen Max since that night, and I had tried my best not to think about it. Now, though, everything was fighting to the surface, trying to break out of that box it had been shoved in. I didn't want to be this weak.

We stopped off at the trailer so I could shower and change, and by the time we pulled up in front of the school, I was regretting my choice of outfit. A skirt. The same skirt I'd worn for years, that now made me feel naked and exposed.

I had let Max and Leah change me, and I hated that. The way I dressed had nothing to do with what had happened to me, and everything to do with the shitty person Max was. That's what I kept reminding myself as I climbed off Zepp's bike.

Zepp snagged my wrist and yanked me close. His lips landed on mine for a brief moment before he sped away, leaving me bewildered in a cloud of exhaust fumes. Zepp had just kissed me. At school. And I wasn't ignorant enough to think that didn't mean something.

I kept my head down as I cut through the packed hallway. A horrible, little knot of self-consciousness pulled at my gut, and I tugged at the hem of my skirt. For the first time since I met him, I wished Zepp were here. I hated that awful sense of need.

I was on my way to the cafeteria at lunch when I heard Dale Davison.

"Hey, Monroe." He broke away from the group of football players huddled against the lockers. "Hear you locked down Zepp Hunt. Your pussy must be pure gold." A boom of laughter filled the hallway.

"And you must be really stupid," I said on a sigh.

His gaze moved over me in a way that I'd usually brush off. But today, it set me on edge.

"You know—" He stepped forward, and his fingers brushed the material of my skirt.

Something hot and volatile tore through me like a freight train. And I snapped.Why did these guys think they could touch me without permission? That they could say whatever they wanted and expect me to brush it off. Why? Because I wore a skirt? Because I "asked for it"…

My vision went red, my fist balled, and before I knew what I had even done, I punched him in the throat. He coughed, eyes going wide as he stumbled back. It felt good to hurt him. I hit him again. When he fell to the floor, I was on him, punching him over and over. A hot and feral rage coursed through my veins, driving me like a demon on my shoulder. Dale. Max. All of them. They all deserved this. Even though Dale never fought back. Not once.

I didn't stop until a thick arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me away. Adrenaline fired through my veins, and I kicked and shouted at whoever had a hold on me.

"Chill out, Moe. What the hell?" Chase threw open the fire door and dragged me outside the school before the door banged shut behind us.

He held up his hands. "Damn, Moe."

I drew in labored breaths, and my hands started to shake. I pressed my forehead to the cool brick wall, trying to calm my racing heart.

"What did he do to you?" Chase asked. Like he cared.

I was just some slut in his eyes, apparently. "Fuck you, Chase." I yanked open the door and stormed back inside toward the girls' restroom.

Jade spotted me in the hallway and silently followed me inside and locked the stall door behind us. I slid down the wall to the floor.

"Are you okay?" she asked, leaning against the divider

In a strange way, hitting Dale had been cathartic. "Yeah, I am."

"You literally just broke Dale's nose…"

"Yeah, well. He's a dick." It wasn't an excuse. I knew I had come unhinged.

"Of course he's a dick." She glanced at my shirt. "Gross. His blood's on you."

I stared at the spots on my shirt. "Great." The intercom system squeaked. "Can Dale Davison and Monroe James please report to the principal's office."

"Shit." I pushed to my feet, heading to the door. "Probably going to get suspended."

As I turned into the corridor that led to the office, I saw Dale approaching from the other end. His face looked bad. Really bad. His nose was crammed with tampons and his lip split. I couldn't believe I'd done that.

Dale didn't say a word to the principal, other than he had walked into a locker. I knew that had nothing to with me and everything to do with Zepp and the fear he instilled. It felt like those little threads that pulled me to Zepp had just grown tighter. I was starting to feel like one of them, and while I knew that wasn't a good thing, deep down, I longed for that sense of belonging.