My Sweet Bully

Squinting, his eyes dance back and forth over mine, filling with a million thoughts, a million words he looks like he wants to slap my face with. Only he doesn’t. Max sucks in a slow breath through flared nostrils.

Turning away, he takes a step forward like he’s about to walk off, when I blurt out, “Hey, is that guy always like that?”

I have to say something. This sense of desire settles over me, and I can’t help but want to talk to him. There’s no way for me to explain what the feeling is that spreads through my body, all I know is I just don’t want him to go. Not yet.

He’s the only person I know here in a weird, uncomfortable, indirect way. How I know him isn’t good, we met under strained circumstances. But I know him, he isn’t a complete stranger like the world I’m about to walk into.

He stops and glares at me over his shoulder. “A dick? Yes.”

That’s it, that’s all he says. But his eyes, his eyes pierce me where I stand. They’re so green, bright like emeralds as the sun hits them, causing them to spark with silver bursts.

I hold my breath as he peers at me, his gaze alarmingly vacant, void of everything, but still full with so much emotion. Hate. Hate for me, that’s what I’m seeing.

“I, uh, I figured as much.”

Max doesn’t say anymore, he simply turns his head and starts to walk toward the school.

Grabbing my bag out of the back seat, I run up beside him. “I’m Prairie.”

“I know who you are,” he says coldly into the air, not acknowledging me at all.

Bobbling my head on my shoulders, I’m embarrassed I said something so dumb. Of course he knows who I am. Nodding, I pick up my pace to keep up with him.

“Right, right, of course you do.” Shifting the bag on my shoulder, I push closer to his side. “That guy was a fucking ass, should I expect that daily? Or is it just because I’m new?” I keep my eyes on his face, unable to stop myself from talking. “Because being new is hard enough, if I have to deal with him acting like that all year, I’m going to lose my mind.” I chuckle awkwardly, knowing he doesn’t want a damn thing to do with me.

Can you blame him?

I’m a bumbling fool. I can’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth. And all they’re doing is casting a shadow of annoyance on his face.

“I know—” I start to say, but I quickly eat my words as he whips his head in my direction.

Max grabs my wrist forcefully, stopping us both. There’s anger in his touch, but all my skin feels is the heat off his fingertips, and the strength in his hands.

The power. The dominance. The pure control.

His skin is rough, coarse, like he’s been working for years. He holds me firmly, digging his fingertips into my arm. I try to pull my arm away, not out of fear, but out of reflex.

Max grips me harder, yanking me in closer. “You want advice, let me give you some advice,” he says, his voice a dark whisper. “Stay clear of me, stay clear of James, and keep your damn mouth shut.” His eyes steady on mine, mouth folding into a frown. “I’m not your fucking friend. I’ll never be your fucking friend. Watch your back, or this school will eat you alive.” A devious smirk curls to one side as he points his middle finger in my face. “A girl like you; you’re new, you’re weak. You’re fresh meat for the lions—you’ll never last here. Remember, enemies don’t make good friends.”

“I don’t have any enemies,” I say, my voice softer than I want it to be.

“You have at least one, I know that much.” His smile thickens as he bites his bottom lip and gives me a knowing look. “And it isn’t that asshole you met this morning.”

He didn’t have to say it for me to know what he meant. I identified him to the cops; why would I ever think I could talk to him like nothing happened between us?

Flicking his bottom lip with his thumb, he twists on his heels, and starts walking again to the school.

All I can do is stand there. Stunned. Numb. But so fucking hot on the inside.

My body is tingling, the skin where his fingers touched me is buzzing and warm. Every nerve in my body is firing off as sweat beads up on the back of my neck.

I watch him, admiring the muscles in his back and arms as they flex with each move. He looks hard as stone, cut like marble, strong as granite. The hard lines of his jaw are defined, with sharp angles and clear edges. His skin is smooth, with the faintest of stubble on his chin.