That Crazy Kind of Love

The bell rang, and everyone started gathering their shit to leave the cafeteria. I waited until the room was nearly empty, not wanting to deal with anyone as I made my way to my next class. After standing and grabbing my notebooks, I made my way out and down the main hallway that led to the stairs. They’d take me to the upper level where my algebra class was.

I heard them bullshitting before I saw them, their voices animated as they talked about the football game coming up.

The fucking jocks.

And then I saw them, four guys wearing their letterman jackets and leaning against the walls in the common area.

“Dude, I’m so fucking Michelle this weekend after the game.”

They all started laughing.

“I’m going to see if she’ll let me fuck her in the ass.”

Another round of laughter echoed off the walls, and I gritted my teeth. I’d never been a fan of when guys bragged about banging a chick, as if they had no fucking respect for the person they’d just been intimate with. It enraged me, if I were being honest. It made me want to beat their assess on principle alone.

The laughter and conversation slowly died down as I rounded the corner. I knew they saw me then, but I kept my books tucked under my arm, my free hand shoved in the front pocket of my jeans, and left my head lowered.

I could feel them staring at me, knew they had something to say, but I said a silent prayer to whoever was fucking listening that they kept their damn mouths shut.

“Hey, new guy,” one of them called out, and I looked at him even though I should have ignored his ass. “Yeah, you.” His mouth was pursed tightly as he pushed off the wall. “It’s Aiden, right?”

I gave him a chin lift as my answer, not bothering to actually say anything. He knew what my fucking name was. He was just prying. I could see on his expression he wanted to be a cocky asshole in front of his friends. He was probably two seconds away from saying some smart-ass comment that would most likely have my patience snapping and me knocking his teeth in.

Which was the last thing I needed, and which was also why I kept on walking. They could think I was being a pussy and didn’t want to confront them, but they’d be wrong. I was doing them a damn favor.

“You don’t talk much,” another guy said as I started moving past them.

“Do you think you’re too good for us, for the school?” a third one asked.

I clenched my jaw, feeling my irritation grow.

“Or maybe he’s a mute. Maybe he’s got a speech impediment and stutters.”

They all started laughing, which was what really fucking pissed me off. Even if I had a speech impediment, they thought that shit was funny? So I found myself stopping, pulled my free hand out for my pocket, and curled it into a tight fist at my side. I felt my spine straighten, my muscles tense.

Don’t do it, Aiden. Keep on fucking walking.

But I didn’t listen to common sense as I turned around and looked at them, took a step forward, then another. I stared at each one in the fucking eye, saw as their laughter died down, as their smiles faded. One of them swallowed roughly and shifted on his feet, the others looking between one another. And still, I said nothing.

Let one of them say one more goddamn thing. Just one more thing.

And as we stood there in silence, me eyeing each one up and down, I knew shit was about to get real. This was the last thing I needed.

The one I knew was named Braxton tightened his lips, and I knew he’d be the one to give me shit.

“Boys, get to class,” a booming voice ricocheted off the walls, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer.

I glanced to my side to see a teacher making his way toward us, his brown loafers clacking against the tiled floor. He held a brown worn satchel over his shoulders and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Come on, guys,” one of the jocks said, and after a suspended moment, they all headed in the other direction.

But I didn’t miss how Braxton looked over his shoulder at me, the grin he sported a whole lot on the asshole side.

Yeah, he wasn’t smart like his buddies. He wanted to go toe-to-toe with me; that was for damn sure.

“Come on,” the teacher said to me, tilting his head toward the stairs.

I made a low sound of irritation and headed to class, and although I wanted to beat their asses, put them in their place, I was thankful we’d been stopped. I had to graduate, not just for myself but for my mother. She deserved to see her only son get his high school diploma and make something out of his life, earn a good living so he could take care of her. She’d been doing that my entire life.