Break Me (Brayshaw High 5)

I see more.

I rise, make my way over to the flat land, and step from the water.

I don’t look his way, but notice with my every foot forward, he shifts in the opposite direction. I brush through my hair with my fingers and tousle it over so it’s not stuck flat to my head and ensuring my scalp is covered. “Are you ready to head back then?”

“Nope. Party’s coming here.”

I freeze, turning toward him. “Here.”

He watches me closely.

“Okay.” My eyes shift between his. “Are we driving to the other side then?”

He tilts his head. “And the point of that would be?”

“You said this is where you come to avoid being seen, your own little hideaway. Do you really want to bring people here?”

His raucous laugh stings when I wish it wouldn’t, his hand coming up to rest against his ribs even, but it’s all for show.

There’s no humor to be found.

His tone, it’s vile, as is the look in his eyes when he flicks them over me. “You think I’d bring you somewhere I was saving for myself, to a sacred place I wanted to hide from the world?” Another foul laugh. “Nah, baby girl. This place served its purpose when we were young. Ain’t nothin’ special or sacred about it anymore.”

Dick. Head.

I nod, forcing myself to hold his intense, hardened gaze.

As if I was sitting back thinking he was sharing some piece of his soul with me by bringing me here. I didn’t. Am I glad he did? Yes, completely. But truth be told, I hadn’t even paused enough to break down our little trip out here, I was too busy appreciating the scenery, and, yeah, enjoying his company. I’m sure I would have later, but I hadn’t yet.

I don’t hate being around him, even if maybe I should, since all of our interactions are pretty much the same and on repeat.

He laughs, I laugh, he gets pissed off and leaves.

He’s angry, I make a joke, he laughs, and then he leaves.

That’s how it goes, so I guess I was supposed to expect this.

Hot and cold.

Sweet and sour.

Unpredictable with diehard mood swings—you have to hope he’s warm on the inside when he’s warm on the out. Chances are, he’s not.

Pizza freaking pocket.

Screw your little Pisces complex.

I smile, and it’s not even fake because, again, screw him. I’m not going to let him ruin my day. I’ve allowed too many people to do that for too long.

“Sounds good, Playboy. I bet it’ll be fun.”

His brows snap to the center, his gaze narrowing and falling to my hands when they meet the hem of my shirt. They cut back and forth between my eyes and my shirt as I lift it over my head. But once my face is covered, I spin, facing away from him.

“What are you doing?” His question is delivered with a sharp edge.

I shimmy my shorts down and hang my clothes over a nearby tree branch to dry before stepping into the water.

“What do you care what I’m doing, Playboy?” I don’t look back, eyeing the small sandbar that’s maybe thirty feet across the water. “I’m boring and your entertainment is on its way.”

I snag one of the little boogie boards he tossed to the ground, step as far in as I can, but close enough to still get some momentum to push off with my feet, my stomach flat on the floating device, and paddle my way across while hoping I won’t fall off and drown.

I’ll stay there until his ‘party’ gets here, and then I’m going to have a good-ass time.

Without him.Chapter 19RoyceShe’s annoying.

And irritating.

And the hottest fucking thing out here.

I groan to myself, tear Katie K’s claws off my chest, and walk to the water’s edge, glaring right across it where half the party has migrated, right fucking to her.

Like a herd of wild fuckin’ bulls, that red bikini pulled them right in.

Poor punks, rich pricks, outsiders who found their way to the spot—they all hover around her, her smile drawing them closer, her laid-back laughter stealing out their own.

She’s soft and enigmatic, a fuckin’ tornado, sucking you into its path and keeping you there, swiveling and circling. Suffocating. A prisoner to an energy she’s clueless she possesses.

The most irritating part, it ain’t just the guys, but the girls too.

I should be able to chill knowing they’ll check her, push her, take a bite out of her for the attention she’s getting, but they aren’t. They joke with her, drink with her, grin right alongside her and it’s because all that ‘attention’ she’s getting?

She hasn’t a fuckin’ clue.

She doesn’t see it, seek it or sense it. The girl is simply enjoying her damn self.

There’s a strange stir in my chest, but before I can decide what it is, another unexpected and irri-fucking-tating reaction leaps to the forefront.