“Doubt it,” he snorts. “I don’t go to no country club.”
“I’m Remington Stringer’s teacher, Pierce James,” I spell it out for him myself, because there’s no way this Neanderthal is going to connect the dots without a little help. He gives me a slow once-over, assessing the situation, and his forehead crumples.
“Oh, yeah? I’m Ryan,” he spits out, not offering his hand.
“A family friend?” I feign ignorance.
“Stepbrother,” he clarifies, adding emphasis on the word step as if that makes a difference. “I also own her.”
You’re also about to get your ass whooped.
“You do?” I smile casually. “And here I thought that was illegal since 1863.”
Of course, this idiot doesn’t get the reference and stares at me blankly.
“She’s mine,” he says again, slow this time, taking a step in my direction. I make no move. This asshole doesn’t intimidate me. “Make sure you remember that.” He delivers the threat directly into my face, the veins in his neck popping.
“I’m her teacher.” I bypass him with an easy smile, unaffected. “I will make sure my students make it through the year healthy and safe, no matter the consequences.” The edge in my tone doesn’t leave room for doubt. I’m returning the threat. “It’s literally my job.”
Before he comes back with another idle threat—men like him always need the last word—I walk out of the gas station, my hands clutching the plastic bag.
I go straight to Shelly’s house, only staying for half an hour this time. I leave out the part about my new connection to Ryan—though, I’m not sure why—and complete my mission for the night. I make a short trip to the bar, pick up a random woman, make use of the condom in my wallet, and end my night in bed alone, smoking and staring at the ceiling.
Ryan Anderson. I now have a way to get to him, and I will.
He is going to pay. I’ll make sure of it.
Ryan has never been accused of being reasonable or rational, but tonight, he seems to be taking his unstable behavior to a whole new level. I don’t know what climbed up his ass, but I can practically hear the time bomb ticking. I’m lying on my stomach on the cold kitchen tile, attempting to cool off while doing my English homework. Ryan won’t let me turn the air-conditioning any lower. My hair is sticking to my neck, and even in a spaghetti strap tank top and a pair of hot pink sleep shorts, I’m still on fire. Between the heat, Ryan’s angry stare, and his leg bouncing in place, focus is not coming easy.
“Somethin’ on your mind, Ryan?” I huff, rolling onto one elbow to meet his eyes.
“You runnin’ your mouth, Rem?” he snaps back.
What the hell is he talking about?
“Not any more than usual,” I quip.
He nods bitterly and takes a swig of his beer.
“Funny, your teacher says otherwise.”
My what?
Ryan stands and slowly walks toward me, and I scramble to get out of my vulnerable position on the floor. I stand with the counter at my back and straighten my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I don’t only hope—but pray—that my dad will come back home sooner rather than later from Los Angeles.
“I don’t know what you’re—” I’m cut off by Ryan slamming his beer bottle against the cabinets above my head. It breaks, dousing my shoulder with lukewarm liquid and bits of shattered glass. I flinch so hard that I slip in the beer that’s puddled at my bare feet, but Ryan squeezes my bicep to keep me upright.
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Ryan screams, and his spit lands on my cheek. My eyes are wide with fear, but it’s not for myself. It’s for Ryan. With each passing day, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that something is seriously wrong with him. And I don’t know how to fix it.
“Are you fucking him, Rem? Is that how you got into that fancy ass school of yours? Well, if you’re selling your ass, then I should at least get a family discount,” he sneers, grabbing my waist and squeezing. Not lightly either.
“Do you even hear yourself? There are so many things wrong with this conversation. You’re not making any sense, Ryan.” I push him away, and this time, I’m not nice either. His eyes soften briefly before turning cold again.
“You keep your mouth shut about me. I don’t need any extra attention right now. Don’t need anybody breathing down my neck.” He brings his fists to the cabinets, boxing me in. “Your pretty boy teacher isn’t gonna save you, Rem. You and me—we were meant for this life. We’ll never be good enough for people like them. It’s time you get used to it. Don’t let that pretty head of yours get filled with sweet sounding lies. I am your truth, baby. It’s just you and me.”
I give a short nod, and he storms off and slams the metal screen against the frame. Once I hear his bike fade off into the distance, I let my tears fall. I cry for me, because a part of me believes Ryan when he says I’m meant for this life. And I cry for Ryan. For the boy he was, and the man he won’t get to become. This town is poison that seeps through the veins of everyone who lives here. And the only antidote is getting out.
Ryan is too far gone, I can see it now. And a part of me is scared he won’t make it out alive.