I pull my wandering thoughts away from my cock—he doesn’t get a say in this—and focus on her snarling presence before me. People standing near are looking between us, waiting to see my reaction. A pressure builds between my shoulder blades.
I haven’t been this humiliated since high school. With a rush of adrenaline, my anger spikes. Warning lights are flashing in my mental peripheral—but I shut them down. I should walk away. Right now, I should just blow this off and leave. But I can’t. Some twisted need to finally get what’s coming to me battles an overpowering urge to defend myself.
I look her over slowly. She’s wearing a gray hoodie now, but earlier today, I remember her tight-laced clothes that stated money. And one of the guys on the team mentioned she drove a Jag. A freaking Jaguar sport’s coupe. Even for this preppy school, that screams money. A lot of it.
Maybe she’s pissed off that she didn’t get into her dream college and is taking it out on everyone here. Not just me. “You’re pretty pissy, you know that? What’s wrong, princess,” I say, dropping my head down to get closer to her. “Daddy couldn’t buy your way into Yale?”
And oh, the transformation on her face is priceless. Nailed it.
Her features drop. From superior to enraged in a nanosecond. She huffs out a long breath, and I can practically see steam rising from her head.
Then collectively, she pushes her loose curls from her shoulder and crosses her arms to match my stance. “It’s sad you have to go there in order to make a retort. But hey—” she cocks her head to the side with a half shrug “—can’t expect a titillating argument from a jock. That’s like asking the bull to swoon the cow. And again, it’s coming off just as clumsy.”
Mother fu… “The fuck?” But I’m over it. I refuse to let this little preppy girl embarrass me in front of my school. She’s not Alyssa—nowhere near, actually. And she’s not going to degrade me as if she was. “At least I’d have a better chance at getting a full handful from a cow udder, twigs.” I make a grabbing motion with my hand.
This gets a laugh from the crowd. But I only have a fraction of a second to register the hurt on her face, my stomach bottoming out with shame, before she snaps her righteous anger back into place.
Then tosses her cup of beer in my face.
The united gasp from the crowd hits me square in the gut. A memory triggers: Senior year, homecoming, my first party. My head submerged in a toilet bowl of piss and beer…the smell and taste. The squad all cackling as some of the team nearly drowned me. The pain as fists barrel into my ribs. All for trying to say “hi” to a cheerleader. To Alyssa.
Then the aftermath. No one picked on me and got away with it.
I took a backseat in high school, faded into the background, until I couldn’t hide anymore.
Maybe that’s why I suck so hard when it comes to picking up girls, I can admit it. I haven’t had to really try since my first month at Braxton. Better days, moving on. But the memory engulfs me in humiliation, and I’m moving before my mind catches up with my actions.
“That’s it, prissy pants,” I say, and swoop down, capturing the girl’s waist. She squeals as I haul her over my shoulder. Her tiny feet kick as she pounds against my back, shouting some expletive. I grunt as I adjust her, getting a firm grasp on her thigh to hold her in place.
I hike us through the brush and down to the hard-packed sand of the beach.
“Oh, my God…” she says. “You wouldn’t.”
A smile tilts my lips. “Oh, yeah. I am, carrot cake.”
“My name is Arian, asshat!”
Finally, I think, as I wade into the water, going as far out as my knees. “Lovely name,” I say, then chuck her into the water.
I hang around, just to make sure she can swim. I mean, I’m not a total ass. Maybe.
When she pops up, flailing her arms and spurting water from her mouth, I rock back on my heels. “Now maybe you’ll chill out some, Buttercup.”
Her head whips around. Despite the near blackness of the beach, I can make out the surprised look on her face at my reference to one of my favorite books. I’m sure she’s seen the movie, and that’s probably where she thinks I got the name. But I don’t enlighten her. She’s made her mind up about me; I’m a dumb jock.
No need to correct her.
Without waiting to hear what vile slashing will fly from her sassy mouth next, I turn and head back to the bonfire. Who needs redemption? It’s overrated. I’ve been doing just fine all these years keeping to myself, keeping everything locked away. I was a fool for thinking she was any different than all the others.
A few more points for the jock. But really, who’s keeping score?
5
Arian
The bite of icy ocean water stings my skin. Waves bowl over me, knocking me off balance as they roll toward the shore. As I shift my waterlogged Converse in the squish beneath my feet, trying to stay upright, I’m more in shock over what just transpired than angry.
My gaze moves to the group gathered on the beach. In the distance, I can see Ryder as he laughs with his teammates, the beautiful cheerleaders gathering close around. The rest stare and point at me. And then I see Vee. Making her way through the crowd.