The doors open, and three guys climb out. I notice the driver is wearing a football jacket with the same colors as the school. The other two guys come to his side of the car, both of them in matching jackets.
It's fucking students, they must be on the football team or something.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I open my door, ready to apologize and introduce myself. It's not how I want to start my first day, but it is what it is. Fitting right into how my life has been going lately. Shitty.
“Hi—” I start to say, but I'm quickly cut off.
“Are you fucking serious? Where did you get your license? A fucking cracker jack box?” The driver arches his brows as he frowns. “You didn't even fucking look.”
“I'm sorry, did I cut you off? Because if I did, I didn't mean to.” I’m trying to be nice, there was no need to get pissed. Accidents happen. Holding out my hand, I attempt to introduce myself. “I'm Prai—”
“I don't give a flying fuck who you are.” The driver runs his hand through his hair, looking over his shoulder at his buddies. “But you need to know who I am.” I arch a brow, waiting for him to answer, because obviously I don't have a damn clue who he is. “I'm James Galligan, quarterback, lead varsity pick, and two time champion of Rosedale High.” Jabbing a finger in my direction, he chirps, “And you almost fucking hit me. I was turning left at the light, didn't you fucking see me?”
“Left? Isn't left supposed to yield?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I tilt my head. I'm no expert, but I think I remember the rules from the driver's education class.
James lets out another scoff, rolling his eyes like I just insulted him. I see it immediately, I know exactly who this guy actually is.
He's a spoiled douche bag, who Mommy and Daddy let run their lives, and fund his every fucking demand; and I just ruined his day. That’s it.
“Look,” I say, holding up my arms with my palms facing outward. “I said was I sorry, if that isn't enough for you—”
“You're right, that isn't enough for me. I don't know where you're from, but let's get one thing straight,” he snaps, taking a long step forward so his face is inches from mine. “This is my school. I make the rules, I call the shots, I say what's enough. And your apology doesn't fucking cut it.”
James takes another intimidating step forward, forcing me to take a step back. There's a look in his eyes that says he wants to hit me, and I actually think he might. His hands fist at his sides as the vein in his forehead throbs.
The two guys with him are standing on either side, ready to follow their leader into the pit of assholery just to be cool. Looking around the parking lot quickly, I don't see anyone I can call to for help.
The hesitation I feel about yelling doesn't come from lack of an audience, it comes from lack of knowledge. Who is this guy? And why would anyone come to help the new girl?
“Get out of my face,” I bark. I'm not easily intimidated, and I'm not going to let some football jock get in my head. If I can't depend on anyone else, I at least know I can help myself.
“Or what?” he asks, lunging forward and stepping on my toes.
I try to step backwards, but I stumble on my heels as his feet trip me up. Falling back, a strong set of arms grab me around my waist, catching me before I hit the ground.
Helping to steady me, he pushes me behind him and puffs up his chest. But his hand stays on my side, protectively securing me out of reach.
Standing tall, the stranger squares his shoulders. “What the fuck is wrong with you, James? Can't win against a guy, so you go after a girl instead? Did your dick shrink over the summer or something? “The stranger pauses briefly, then answers his own question. “Wait, you never had a dick, so. . .”
“Fuck you, Ramon. Did your Daddy cash in some change to buy you a backbone and those clothes?”
“No, I fucked your mother, and she gave me your clothes instead.”
The two growl at each other, but the boy who stood up for me jerks his shoulders forward like he's about to charge, and James takes a long, submissive step back.
The guy on James’s left slaps his shoulder and nods his head for them to go. Three against one seems like the better odds, but all three of them appear to be intimidated by this guy.
“I'll be seeing you, Max, you can bet on that.” Climbing back into his car, they drive away and park in another spot in the lot.
“You all right?” he asks, turning around to face me. He reaches for my arm, touching me lightly, then quickly pulls it away.
Holy shit, it's him.
His eyes expand wide as he takes a few steps back. Clearing his throat, his brows crinkle as I watch the recognition fall over his face. He remembers me.
How the hell could he forget you? You pointed him and his brother out to the judge!
Max grunts, disgust smearing his face as he wipes off the hand he had touched me with on his pants. Running his palms back and forth over his jeans, it's like he's trying to remove any remnants of me all together. Like I'm a disease and he's been infected.
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?