Badly Behaved

Embarrassment colors my cheeks, but Beretta only grins, coming in to kiss my temple.

“Give us five, we’ve been here long enough.” He looks to Arsen, gripping his bicep before he turns back.

The two of us step around the group, making our way to the start again, but Beretta slips between us before we’re even halfway there. “Ransom’s coming.”

“I feel like an asshole,” I say instantly, and he grins, throwing his arms around both me and Arsen’s shoulders.

“You’re not an asshole. If you’ve never been down here to see, how would you know?”

I frown, facing forward.

“Here, come on.” He tugs us to the right, off the pier and toward a little roller cart a woman is frying what looks like diced green peppers on.

He orders and pays her four dollars for a giant bowl.

It looks delicious. Some sort of greens topped with tomatoes, cilantro, and crumbled cheese.

He holds it out for me to grab the spoon.

“What is it?”

“Cactus.”

My eyes bulge, and he laughs.

“Cactus,” I deadpan. “So, when you asked if I ever tried it you meant—”

“Eaten, not grown.”

I cover my eyes, shaking my head. “I’m so embarrassed!” I look to him.

He chuckles. “It’s all that fine dining, Trouble. Stick with us and you’ll learn a whole bunch of new, average joe shit.” He scoops a spoonful and holds it out. “Try it.”

I open my mouth and take the bite.

It’s a little slimy, but also crisp, like a partially cooked pepper, but the flavor is all in the spices.

I have no clue what they are, but it works.

I take another bite.

Beretta grins, his eyes cutting over my shoulder, and I glance the same way to find Ransom leaning against the ledge, watching us.

He frowns and looks away.

I face forward and Beretta looks from him to me, but I ignore the flair of frustration in my chest and turn to Arsen.

“Can I have my phone from your bag?”

He shakes his head no, backing away slowly.

My mouth falls open and then he darts off, I don’t know what possesses me to act like a child, but before I know it, I’m chasing after him.

He spins behind a bike rack, juking left and right, so I wait, cut around the second he breaks free, but I bump into someone, stumbling slightly.

Hands wrap around my biceps, steadying me, and my smile lifts to the skater boy I ran off his board.

“I’m so sorry—”

I cut off when Ransom’s arm darts between us, and he grips the guy by the shirt, twisting the thin cotton in his fist. He yanks him forward only to toss him back.

The guy stumbles over the curb, falling into the sand beneath it. “Yo, what the fuck, man?”

My eyes widen, flying to Ransom, but he glares at the angry guy on the ground.

“Oh my god, I—”

I try to apologize again, this time for Ransom’s antics but then his hard eyes find mine and I snap at him instead. “What the hell?”

His jaw is flexed, but he says nothing, tearing away and stomping down the beach.

I turn, but he’s already up and spun for his skateboard.

Arsen hands over my phone with a tight-lipped smile and jogs off to catch up to Ransom, Beretta and me slowly following behind.

“Someone is in a mood today.” I sigh, and Beretta bumps his shoulder with mine.

We head back to the cave, both sticking to our thoughts, which sucks, and once we reach it, Ransom is standing outside of it.

He steps in front of me, blocking my path, his light blue eyes staring into mine.

It’s funny, I’m always in heels, but standing here like this, the flip-flops I bought dangling from my hand, I realize he’s even taller than I thought. He’s irritated, so I should leave him to himself, but for some reason, I reach up, brushing a little bit of sand from the edge of his forehead, and his frown deepens.

It’s as if he’s waiting for something, but I’m not sure if it’s from me or from himself. Either way, it never comes.

He growls and walks away.

I spin, facing the water, and Beretta comes up behind me, wrapping his arms loosely over my shoulders.

“He’s got a lot of shit going on, that’s all.” He excuses his friend.

I scowl at the ocean.

“His uh, his brother’s a dick,” he shares, and my ears perk up. “Uses him when he needs to, but it’s all to keep a leash around his neck. It’s fucked up, but it was that way with his parents, too. They didn’t like him, they might love him, I don’t know, but they didn’t like him.”

He pauses and I know he’s trying to decide what else to say, so I wait and eventually more comes.

“They’re addicts, like my dad, but harder stuff,” he mumbles. “Been gone for a few years now. His brother stepped in like he was being noble, doing what was right and all that other showboat shit, but he only wanted what his mom tried hard and failed to get after their sisters’ accident.”