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.
He doesn't look like the same boy I saw that night. Everything about him is different. His demeanor, his stance, his eyes, his voice. Max that night was an uncertain, confused kid. Max today is a confident, determined man.
He looks like an adult as he passes a small cluster of freshmen still hanging on the front steps. Max towers over the group, his muscles far superior to the pubescent boys around him. The small group splits like the Red Sea as Max moves through them like they aren't even there.
The bell rings, knocking me from my trance.
And as I head into school, I already know. . .
Max Ramon is going to ruin me in more ways than one.
2
Max
Her skin is like velvet. So soft. So delicate. So pure.
And so very fucking breakable.
My mind instantly turns to images of me taking control of her, teasing her tight little pussy until she can't take it anymore. When it becomes torture, when she's begging me to either fuck her or let her go, that's when I'll know I’ve broken her.
There are only two things I want from her. To hear her scream my name, and revenge.
Both will be sweet. Both will make me smile. And both will give me the satisfaction I crave. Destruction never looked so good before I set my eyes on her.
The thought makes my dick twitch, knowing how easily I could break her, damage her, make her wish she never met me.
But the feel of her skin sends goosebumps down my arms, making me focus on the good stuff, the fun stuff, the things I shouldn't really want because I fucking hate her.
She's no one. She's a rat.
My fingers itch to run through her hair, wrap it around my fist and tear her head back so she's staring up at me. I want her to know me. I want to know her. Every inch of her body can tell me a story, and I want to hear it.
I'll lick her from head to toe. Every curve, every dip, every nook. My tongue will taste every inch of her body. Claiming her in ways no man ever has, marking her so deep she'll still feel me between her legs when I'm long gone.
Her body could be mine if I want it. All I have to do is turn on the charm, whisper the right words, and she'll be begging me to end her misery. Her bright blue eyes will glisten with need, her plump lips will pout with desire, and her teeth will nibble with hunger.
I can't stop thinking about how she felt in my hands; silky, smooth, and so fucking tempting. Too tempting. Addicting if I'm not careful.
I've never touched anything so delicate before. Everything in my life is hard and jagged, like a sharp rock, ready to slice me open if I make one wrong move. All it takes is one slip and I'm a bloody mess.
I've been cut one too many times over the years, and this girl's cut me so fucking deep already, I'll never forgive her for it.
I hate her.
Hate is a strong word. It's a word that fits perfectly when it comes to her. She deserves every ounce of hate I have for her; I won't forget that.
Prairie destroyed everything. She took the one person away from me who'd always been there for me, the only person that ever gave a shit about me. She came in from nowhere like a storm at sea.
How could I ever see her as anything other than a rogue wave?
My brother is in jail because of her. It's her fault I'm left to fend for myself, that I have to spend my weekends picking up trash on the beach for the next five months, and that my basketball scholarship is hanging on by a super thin thread.
Basketball is the only thing I have that can get me out of this fucking place, and now I have to stand back and wonder if it will be torn from my hands just like my childhood. Because of her. All because of Prairie Westmin.
It isn't fair. None of this shit is fair.
She needs to pay for what she's done. Simple as that.
The idea sends a rush of excitement through my veins. It's invigorating, refreshing, and it puts a smile on my face. I'm going to make her life fucking miserable, every chance that I get, I'm going to make her regret everything she's done to me.
The bell rings for homeroom, making me lift my head and look over my shoulder.
Slamming my locker shut, I tuck my binder under my arm and step into the classroom. I'm done thinking about her and what she's done to my family. She has no place in my life other than the hate and misery she's caused me.
I'm not going to give her more of myself. That piece of me, the one that holds this rage inside, that's enough, and it's all she deserves.
Her face makes me angry; her voice makes me insane with hatred. And yet she acts like she has the right to talk to me. Like we could ever be friends. Fuck that.
If I had realized it was her to begin with in the parking lot, I would have left her where she was, and let the snakes swallow her whole. I didn't know it was her. Not from behind. And like a fucking idiot, I stuck my nose where it didn't belong.
All because I fucking hate James Galligan. If you look up asshole in the dictionary, his face would be there. But I can easily say, I hate this girl more. It would have been worth it to watch him take bites from her soul.