Rowdy Boy

Even though these boys are sexual devils, and they often do these things at concerts, especially when there’s a popular band playing, rage still bubbles to the surface, and I close my locker with a little too much fury.

“You look cheerful.”

I shriek but then cover my mouth with my hand to stop the rest from escaping. It’s only my cousin. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” Ariane snorts. “I wasn’t like, trying to.”

“I know,” I reply. “I just …” I sigh and throw my bag over my shoulder.

“Something wrong?” she asks. “You seem off today.”

My lips part, but I don’t know how to respond, so I stutter a little, “No, yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

She narrows her eyes. “Are you sure? You sure gave that locker door a piece of your mind.”

“I hate math. That’s all,” I lie.

“Oh! I completely forgot!” She places her hands against her cheeks. “Math!”

“What?” I mutter.

“We share this class together!” she squeals and grabs my shoulders, hyping it up like it’s a big deal when it’s just math. “Ooh, I’m so excited to have my cousin in the same class as me!”

She hugs me so hard she almost squishes me, and I struggle to breathe. That’s when I notice him; Cole Travis. He marches through school in his tattered down black-and-red striped school outfit that’s ripped in several places, and when he runs his fingers through his slick dark hair, almost all the girls in his path swoon against the lockers.

A cloud hangs above his head, and the look on his face predicts thunder. But the worst part is that he’s walking straight toward us.

With those ice-cold green eyes, he’s glancing back and forth between us, and now I can’t tell who he’s coming for. But one thing’s for sure—shit’s going to hell.

The closer he gets, the taller he appears, and it almost feels as though he’s going to barge straight into us before he comes to a full stop, towering over us.

“What the fuck did you do?” Cole barks, pointing at Ariane. “Or was it you?” When he directs his full and utterly fierce attention at me, I’m at a loss for words. “Which one of you was it, huh?”

“Cole, what the hell are you talking about?” Ariane asks.

“Shut your damn mouth,” he snarls.

Ariane leans away in disgust. “Jesus, tone it down a little. The whole school can hear you rant.”

“I don’t fucking care!” He’s so enraged he’s on the verge of violence. “One of you spread those rumors.”

“What rumors?” She folds her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Was it you then?” He looks at me again, and I feel like a goddamn homing beacon.

My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. No boy has ever made me stutter before. But this boy … damn near every time he looks at me, I get choked up as though he has his hands wrapped firmly around my throat.

“I … I …”

He cocks his head. “Well?”

“She doesn’t know what you’re talking about,” Ariane says, grabbing his arm to push him away.

“Bullshit.” He shoves her away and lunges at me, cornering me against the lockers behind me. “I saw you there. At the club. With that girl … What’s her name?”

“Melanie,” I mutter, clutching my own damn clothes as if they’re my only saving grace… because they’re quite literally the only thing hovering between him and his hands right now.

He’s all up in my face, practically sniffing me to catch me in a lie. And it works because I’m already sweating heaps.

“You two did it, didn’t you?” he says through gritted teeth. “You don’t even know me, and you already start telling people what went on behind the curtains?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say, my lips quivering.

“Cole! Leave her alone!” Ariane says, tugging at his shoulder, but it’s no use. He’s far stronger than she could ever be.

He completely ignores her and slams a hand on the locker beside my head. I try not to jolt up and down when he leans in closer, our faces mere inches away from each other. “I saw you looking at me on stage when I grabbed that girl and kissed her. It was you, wasn’t it?”

“No one spread any rumors!” Ariane growls at him.

“Stop fucking lying!” he yells in her face, and he whisks his phone from his pocket and holds it up for us both to see.

It’s a text from one of his buddies from the band with a picture of the girls’ bathroom attached. Someone wrote on the stalls with big fat letters the name of the girl who sucked Cole’s dick and that she liked it … and that she’s a whore.

My phone suddenly bleeps.

“Go on then … look at your phone,” Cole challenges me.

There’s a pause as he cocks his head and waits. I reach for my phone and check it out. It’s Mel.