He's making me uneasy. The way he looks. The way his body is stiff and rigid. The way his voice is void and empty.
Harlow shifts in his seat, opening the door and climbing out of the car suddenly. He walks to the back of the car and opens the trunk. I can hear him moving things around, but I can't see what he's doing.
He then starts to walk around the car with something in his hand. His eyes are forward, fixed on the building.
What the hell is he doing? The thought makes me quirk a brow.
A light flickers in the darkness, exploding into a full flame. I watch that flame as it flies through the air, and smashes into the glass. The flame disappears into the black hole of the window.
I'm in shock as I sit, unsure if this is all really happening. Harlow starts to laugh as he lights another firebomb and throws into another window.
That's when I see it. Flames start to grow, the light small and weak at first, until it roars to life as it's fed. The black window is now rolling with hot arms and red embers.
Launching out of the car, I run to his side, and grab him by the arm. “What the fuck are you doing? What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Harlow's head slowly turns to face me, his smile folding into a deep frown. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” He takes a step forward, bumping his chest against mine. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Growling, I shove him back, and run toward the building. I want to put the fire out. I have to put the fire out. Scanning the back wall, I'm praying I see a hose or a fire extinguisher, something, anything to douse the flames.
Nothing.
Harlow runs up behind me, locking his arm around my neck and tearing me back. “Look at it. She deserves this. Her entire fucking family deserves to suffer for my pain, for our pain. I spent months in that fucking cell because of her. At the sentencing, her family looked at me like I was garbage, like they have the right to judge me. They don't.”
Pulling back his arm, he punches me in the gut.
“And now she's got you wrapped around her little finger. Does she fuck you in the ass with that finger too?”
Grunting loudly, I'm able to break away. Digging my fingers into the collar of his shirt, I strike him back, connecting with his chin. My knuckles crunch under the weight it, causing his head to snap to the side.
We're fighting, hand to hand, brother to brother. The fire behind us is growing bigger by the second, pouring out the windows. A loud crash explodes behind us as the heat causes more windows to buckle under the pressure.
We both duck naturally, and that's when I hear the sirens in the distance.
Not again.
He did it again. It's just like that night all over.
Jumping to my feet, I can feel my face starting to swell and my eyes beginning to close from where he hit me.
Glancing to my left, Harlow is pulling himself up off the ground. I'm not waiting for him this time. He's on his own. This isn't what I signed up for. There was never any money, it was all about Prairie.
Revenge.
Taking off out of the parking lot, my brother yells something to me, but I can't hear what it is he's saying. And I don't really give shit either.
“Hey, you all right?” her voice soothes my soul, calming my nerves.
Opening my eyes, Prairie is over me, concern resting on her face.
“I think so. Why?”
“You're sweating like a pig, and you were tossing and turning in your sleep.”
“It's nothing, just a bad dream.”
“You want to talk about it?” she asks, running her fingers up and down the outside of my arm.
“Nah, I'm awake now, that makes it all better.”
“Well, good, because you’ve got to get up. The big game is tonight, and you need to be at practice in a few.”
Pushing up in bed, I stretch my arms over my head and yawn. “Thanks, Mom.”
Chucking her pillow at me, she grabs her bag off the chair, and throws it over her shoulder. “I'll see you later tonight. I got classes all day.”
“You sure you need to leave right now?” I ask, grabbing my morning wood and smirking. “I think someone would like to say hello.”
Her eyes dart to my cock, cheeks turning red as she bites her lip. “I can't, I have a calculus test this morning.” Walking around the bed to my side, she pulls back the covers, exposing my dick.
Prairie leans over, running her tongue up the bottom of my shaft, and around the swollen head, sucking my entire length into her mouth. My eyes roll back in my head as I fall into my pillow and groan.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
Her mouth is warm and wet, sucking me into the back of her throat. Her tongue swirls around the tip, tasting me like a lollipop. Bobbing her head up and down, her cheeks hollow as she gags a little when I jerk my hips and hit the back of her throat.
Her eyes flick up to mine as she wraps her fingers around the thick muscle, stroking in unison with her mouth. She glides down my cock, her hand following suit. She sucks back up, her hand tightening, jerking me off with each move of her head.
Digging my fingers into her hair, I coil the locks around my hand, and drive her down harder, fucking her face with my cock. My hips slam up, my hand forces her down, and my balls draw up tight.
Her mouth feels so fucking good wrapped around me. I love it. It's the next best thing to being in her pussy.
“Yeah, suck it, baby,” I say, my voice a whisper as I grunt. My cock is beginning to throb, turning to stone as I shoot my cum down the back of her throat.
Prairie smiles up at me as she sucks me clean, swallowing the entire load. “There, that'll hold you over until later. Now I need to go.”
She walks into the bathroom and rinses her mouth out with mouthwash. Blowing me a kiss, she closes the door behind her as she leaves for class.
Climbing out of bed, I grab my basketball clothes and pull them on. My life is so different now. It's nothing like I would have ever expected or pictured it to be.
Prairie and I got accepted to the same college, and I got my scholarship to do what I love, playing basketball. We share a little apartment just outside the university. I'm working part time at a local gym and studying to be a drug and alcohol abuse counselor.
But basketball is my passion. Tonight's our first big game, one that can really set me in the spotlight if I hit it right. I still have a hard time opening up to people. It's hard to explain where I came from and who I am.
Here, at this new school, in this new town, it's a clean slate. I don't have to be Max Ramon, son of a drunk and brother of an arsonist. Here, I'm just Max, point guard for the Trojans. It's actually really nice to be no one for once.
The first half of the game the score goes back and forth. We score, they score, we score again. It's typical, but it's not what the coach wants to see. Coach Vereene is yelling at us from the bench, his arms moving, and flailing as he points at his clipboard.
We're down by two, with twenty seconds left on the clock. The ball comes to me, sweat is pouring down my temples, and my hands are clammy. Gripping the ball with the tips of my fingers, I hear the crowd around me go silent. Everyone is holding their breath, waiting for me. Me.
Bending at the knees, I jump, closing my eyes as I throw the ball. The buzzer goes off, but the ball is already in the air. It's so quiet you can hear a pin drop.