Playing with Fire

“You don’t have a type. You hate everyone.” East balled his sandwich wrap and threw it in my face. I caught it midair. Killer instincts. I threw it back at him, getting his eye.

“Exactly.”

“St. Claire. Wait up,” a small voice squeaked behind me.

Feminine footsteps thudded behind my back. I didn’t break my pace or turn around to see who it was, on my way to the campus gym. I’d never had my ass whooped in the ring, and I planned on keeping my unchallenged record intact.

Despite the vote of no confidence from East and Reign, I worked hard and was fully capable of annihilating Appleton with an arm tied behind my back.

“Geez, what’s with you?” the voice behind me puffed.

Texas had never sought me out on campus before. She wasn’t the kind to try to hang out just because we worked together, and it was fresh to have a girl who wasn’t dazzled by my status, battle scars, or anger issues.

She fell into step with me, her fists shoved into her hoodie’s pockets. Her winter attire looked out of place in the scenery of cropped shorts and short skirts. She wore the same ragged, gray ball cap, her long, blonde hair cascading all the way down to her lower back.

“You’re ignorin’ me.” She squinted.

I didn’t answer, still walking. It was important to distinguish we weren’t BFFs. Just because I’d done her a solid last night didn’t mean I cared. I was willing to lend a hand when she needed help, but we weren’t going to sing “Kumbaya” by the fire or get matching Taylor Swift bracelets. East was right. I had to make sure she knew I wasn’t interested, in the improbable case she had any ideas.

“Would you stop walkin’?” She threw her arms in the air.

“Eventually,” I said with a biting tone. “When I reach my destination.”

“Where to? Hell, I’m hopin’.”

“Why go to hell when I can enjoy the same fine weather at the food truck, with an added bonus of your whiny ass?” I wondered aloud.

The air-con I’d brought didn’t make much difference, but I stopped working shirtless, because Texas couldn’t look at me when I had my shirt off, and I was tired of her talking to my boots whenever she addressed me.

It wasn’t like me to banter, especially with chicks—especially with chicks I had no interest in watching taking my cock into their mouths—but for some reason, this girl brought the high school kid out of me. She was never above an immature, sarcastic remark, always down for a few verbal jabs, and I guessed both of us didn’t care about impressing each other.

“Because you’d be a guest of honor there,” she hissed.

See? Snarky with a capital S.

Then, out of nowhere, a sharp little elbow jammed into my ribs, exactly where I had a welt from last Friday’s fight. I instinctively stopped, not because it hurt—even though goddammit, it actually did—but because I knew she knew exactly what she was doing, and that was a jerk move. Especially after I’d saved her ass yesterday.

She punched me in the kidneys, where she also knew I had a bruise. Then she hurled herself in front of me, blocking my path.

“What the fuck?” I inquired flatly, eyeing her like she was something I had to throw into the recycling can but was too lazy to pick up.

She flattened her lips, glowering. She looked like a five-year-old trying to be tough. I half-wished she’d take off the ugly-ass ball cap and show her face.

How bad could it be?

Pretty bad if they called her Toastie.

She examined my torso over my shirt, then went for my arm, punching it.

“Cut it out.”

She punched my other arm.

Then my abs.

The little shit was trying to fight me.

In the middle of campus, with people strewn about on benches and the lawn, looking on. Everyone at the Student Union Building was glaring at us through the floor-to-ceiling window.

She swatted my chest and stomach. Sarcastic and insane. The latter was a new, unwelcome development.

I picked her up by the back of her hoodie, like a mouse from a tail, until her feet were above the ground. She was as light as a feather and just about as threatening. She kicked the air, trying—and failing—to punch my face. It was comical, seeing her going at me with everything she had and still not getting one shot in.

A curious audience clustered around us like a pre-cum stain on a teenager’s underwear. I despised being watched. Could only tolerate it if people paid for the pleasure to see me in the ring. But she’d just made sure we were Friday afternoon’s main event.

I took everything nice I’d thought about Texas back.

She was a massive pain in the ass.

“Let me down,” she rustled, her balled fists shaking in my face.

“If I do, will you behave like a lady and not like a rabid animal?” I arched an eyebrow, speaking slowly and condescendingly to rile her up even more.