The Boy I Grew Up With
Page 37
“I know.” His hands found my hips, tugging me closer. “I would’ve just left and snuck back in through your window.”
Channing’s relationship with his sister had improved, but they had a long way to go.
“I’m not a mom…” That word came out a little raspy, and I swallowed over a lump. “But I think the best thing is to cement your relationship with her first.”
“I’m trying.” He pulled me in, wrapping his arms around me and bending his head to the crook of my shoulder. “I’m trying.”
He was trying. I was trying. I even think Bren was trying too.
“Come on.” I stepped out of his arms and took his hand. “Take me to the bedroom, old man.”
“Old man?” He smirked down at me, his eyes darkening. “I’ll show you old—old ways cavemen used to have sex with their women. How about that?”
A tingle shot through me, and I couldn’t have wanted anything else. “Promise?”
He groaned, his lips finding mine. “God, I promise.”
Picking me up, he carried me to his bedroom and locked his door.
At that moment, everything felt right…
29
Heather
Freshman year
My. Fucking. Bag. Wouldn’t. Budge.
These damn lockers needed to be bigger. Honestly. I mean, come on. How can we keep all of our crap in these small things for an entire year? Some of us had real items to stuff in here—like books, and bags, and food, and the occasional liquor bottle (don’t judge me), and hello? What if I wanted to put an overnight bag in here? Or someone else’s overnight bag, such as Channing’s, because who knew where he slept most nights.
Actually, it was his bag I was trying to pull out of my locker. Why he hadn’t used his own locker, I wasn’t sure. There was always a reason with him, but he’d gotten more and more vague with his explanations. I hadn’t wanted to start a fight (another one), so I’d just grabbed his bag and thrown my whole body at it, cramming it inside my locker.
Now I had to move it because my stupid freaking history book had fallen behind it, and I couldn’t get it out.
I tried from the floor now, my feet braced on either side of my locker as I yanked. I’d need a shower after this. My hair was sweeping the dust up from the hallway, though our janitors really did do a good job.
Gus needed more credit for the crap he had to clean up.
“Looking good, Jax.”
Oh, shit.
I looked up, still almost horizontal with the floor, and got a good junk shot from Budd Broudou.
I’d be scarred for life.
“Get the fuck away from me.” My teeth ground together.
Budd’s brother Brett wasn’t that bad, but this guy was an A-hole of epic proportions, and their sister was just as bad—spoiled, sheltered, and narcissistic to the extreme. They had another brother too, but he didn’t go here. Anyway, the ones I knew seemed to get worse every year, and lately Budd had begun strutting around our school like he owned it. I might’ve been a lowly freshman this year, but I was a Jax. I wouldn’t take shit, and that certainly included the Broudous too.
“Oh, come on.” He moved his hips in a circle, knowing what I could see as I looked up.
Thank God for jeans, or I’d be seeing some peen and beans.
I gave up. Climbing to my feet, my hands found my hips. I focused on his junk for a moment, then smirked.
“You pad that shit, don’t you.”
Before he could retort, I gave him a little tap with the back of my hand.
I was right. There was a sock in that thing.
He howled, cupping himself. “You bitch!”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. You didn’t feel it, if you know what I mean.”
“You…”
I could see his body temperature rising. The red at the bottom of the thermostat was rolling up, up, up, and all the way to the top. Even his forehead was red. His hands curled as if he might go for my throat. “You bitch—”
Smack!
Channing had appeared out of nowhere. His punch sent Budd into the locker beside me.
“Get away from her!” Channing yelled, and then he was on him.
Punch after punch, I almost felt sorry for Budd. He didn’t have time to recover or fight back. Then a shout came out from farther down the hallway, and a mass of students pushed toward us.
Budd’s brother Brett was coming, along with the rest of their friends. I’d noticed a divide among the students—half followed the Broudou brothers around like puppies trailing their mother’s tit, and a fourth remained neutral. The last fourth were loyal to Channing. They were a smaller group, but they were fierce.
Channing had started fighting more and more, which made his friends wade in too, and somehow, they’d become a fighting force. They were tough enough to make the Broudou followers wary, which is why only Brett and one other tried to get Budd away from Channing—or more accurately, Channing’s fists.
Moose, Congo, and Chad pushed through the crowd and started in on Brett and Jared Caldron, Budd’s best friend.
I was pissed—beyond pissed.
One, I’d been handling this. Like the day would come that I couldn’t handle a fucking Broudou? Please.
Two, I’d been trying to get that damn bag out of my locker, and now what was I doing? Waiting. Waiting for these shitheads to figure out whose dick was bigger.
Three, as I watched, Channing slammed Budd against my locker. The force was enough to drive his bag back in.
And finally, my mouth dropped as I watched all of my books and papers fly out of the locker. Not one or two, all! How was that even possible?
“Fuckers!” I yelled.
Forget it. I waded in. If they hurt me, so be it. I was getting my damn history book one way or another.
“Heather!” Channing yelled.
“Jax!”
I didn’t know who that was. I didn’t care. Shoving Broudou away, I pushed Channing’s hands off of me too. “Get away.”
He cursed, shoving Budd farther away from me. Fine. Whatever. They could do their stupid fighting over there. I dropped to the ground, my ass on that floor again, and I wedged my hand under Channing’s bag until I could wrap my fingers around my history book.
Of course. Because it was cosmic karma—my books were all spread out around the hallway except the one I wanted.
The guys still wrestled around me. Moose slammed Brett into my neighbor’s locker. Both guys saw me, and their eyes bulged out.
“Jax, what the fuck are you doing?”
But then Brett wound back a fist and sent it right into Moose’s jawline. He punched Moose back toward where Channing had taken Budd—see? That brother wasn’t as bad as the other.
I heard a crow squawk, “Get off of my brothers!”
There was only one girl stupid enough (besides me) to wade into this mess, and if she started fighting, so would I. I’d have to go at her, though I didn’t want to. I had priorities here. I was still hoping to get this damn book and go to class. Not all of us had to get detention. That was my thinking until Shannon Broudou screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Teachers! Get the teachers! Channing Monroe started the whole thing.”
I had a good hold. I was able to wrap my entire hand around the book. I tensed up, and pulled with all of my weight.
Ooomph!
Success.
The book popped out of the locker, and since Shannon was passing me at that moment, I used the momentum to let it fly.
Channing’s relationship with his sister had improved, but they had a long way to go.
“I’m not a mom…” That word came out a little raspy, and I swallowed over a lump. “But I think the best thing is to cement your relationship with her first.”
“I’m trying.” He pulled me in, wrapping his arms around me and bending his head to the crook of my shoulder. “I’m trying.”
He was trying. I was trying. I even think Bren was trying too.
“Come on.” I stepped out of his arms and took his hand. “Take me to the bedroom, old man.”
“Old man?” He smirked down at me, his eyes darkening. “I’ll show you old—old ways cavemen used to have sex with their women. How about that?”
A tingle shot through me, and I couldn’t have wanted anything else. “Promise?”
He groaned, his lips finding mine. “God, I promise.”
Picking me up, he carried me to his bedroom and locked his door.
At that moment, everything felt right…
29
Heather
Freshman year
My. Fucking. Bag. Wouldn’t. Budge.
These damn lockers needed to be bigger. Honestly. I mean, come on. How can we keep all of our crap in these small things for an entire year? Some of us had real items to stuff in here—like books, and bags, and food, and the occasional liquor bottle (don’t judge me), and hello? What if I wanted to put an overnight bag in here? Or someone else’s overnight bag, such as Channing’s, because who knew where he slept most nights.
Actually, it was his bag I was trying to pull out of my locker. Why he hadn’t used his own locker, I wasn’t sure. There was always a reason with him, but he’d gotten more and more vague with his explanations. I hadn’t wanted to start a fight (another one), so I’d just grabbed his bag and thrown my whole body at it, cramming it inside my locker.
Now I had to move it because my stupid freaking history book had fallen behind it, and I couldn’t get it out.
I tried from the floor now, my feet braced on either side of my locker as I yanked. I’d need a shower after this. My hair was sweeping the dust up from the hallway, though our janitors really did do a good job.
Gus needed more credit for the crap he had to clean up.
“Looking good, Jax.”
Oh, shit.
I looked up, still almost horizontal with the floor, and got a good junk shot from Budd Broudou.
I’d be scarred for life.
“Get the fuck away from me.” My teeth ground together.
Budd’s brother Brett wasn’t that bad, but this guy was an A-hole of epic proportions, and their sister was just as bad—spoiled, sheltered, and narcissistic to the extreme. They had another brother too, but he didn’t go here. Anyway, the ones I knew seemed to get worse every year, and lately Budd had begun strutting around our school like he owned it. I might’ve been a lowly freshman this year, but I was a Jax. I wouldn’t take shit, and that certainly included the Broudous too.
“Oh, come on.” He moved his hips in a circle, knowing what I could see as I looked up.
Thank God for jeans, or I’d be seeing some peen and beans.
I gave up. Climbing to my feet, my hands found my hips. I focused on his junk for a moment, then smirked.
“You pad that shit, don’t you.”
Before he could retort, I gave him a little tap with the back of my hand.
I was right. There was a sock in that thing.
He howled, cupping himself. “You bitch!”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. You didn’t feel it, if you know what I mean.”
“You…”
I could see his body temperature rising. The red at the bottom of the thermostat was rolling up, up, up, and all the way to the top. Even his forehead was red. His hands curled as if he might go for my throat. “You bitch—”
Smack!
Channing had appeared out of nowhere. His punch sent Budd into the locker beside me.
“Get away from her!” Channing yelled, and then he was on him.
Punch after punch, I almost felt sorry for Budd. He didn’t have time to recover or fight back. Then a shout came out from farther down the hallway, and a mass of students pushed toward us.
Budd’s brother Brett was coming, along with the rest of their friends. I’d noticed a divide among the students—half followed the Broudou brothers around like puppies trailing their mother’s tit, and a fourth remained neutral. The last fourth were loyal to Channing. They were a smaller group, but they were fierce.
Channing had started fighting more and more, which made his friends wade in too, and somehow, they’d become a fighting force. They were tough enough to make the Broudou followers wary, which is why only Brett and one other tried to get Budd away from Channing—or more accurately, Channing’s fists.
Moose, Congo, and Chad pushed through the crowd and started in on Brett and Jared Caldron, Budd’s best friend.
I was pissed—beyond pissed.
One, I’d been handling this. Like the day would come that I couldn’t handle a fucking Broudou? Please.
Two, I’d been trying to get that damn bag out of my locker, and now what was I doing? Waiting. Waiting for these shitheads to figure out whose dick was bigger.
Three, as I watched, Channing slammed Budd against my locker. The force was enough to drive his bag back in.
And finally, my mouth dropped as I watched all of my books and papers fly out of the locker. Not one or two, all! How was that even possible?
“Fuckers!” I yelled.
Forget it. I waded in. If they hurt me, so be it. I was getting my damn history book one way or another.
“Heather!” Channing yelled.
“Jax!”
I didn’t know who that was. I didn’t care. Shoving Broudou away, I pushed Channing’s hands off of me too. “Get away.”
He cursed, shoving Budd farther away from me. Fine. Whatever. They could do their stupid fighting over there. I dropped to the ground, my ass on that floor again, and I wedged my hand under Channing’s bag until I could wrap my fingers around my history book.
Of course. Because it was cosmic karma—my books were all spread out around the hallway except the one I wanted.
The guys still wrestled around me. Moose slammed Brett into my neighbor’s locker. Both guys saw me, and their eyes bulged out.
“Jax, what the fuck are you doing?”
But then Brett wound back a fist and sent it right into Moose’s jawline. He punched Moose back toward where Channing had taken Budd—see? That brother wasn’t as bad as the other.
I heard a crow squawk, “Get off of my brothers!”
There was only one girl stupid enough (besides me) to wade into this mess, and if she started fighting, so would I. I’d have to go at her, though I didn’t want to. I had priorities here. I was still hoping to get this damn book and go to class. Not all of us had to get detention. That was my thinking until Shannon Broudou screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Teachers! Get the teachers! Channing Monroe started the whole thing.”
I had a good hold. I was able to wrap my entire hand around the book. I tensed up, and pulled with all of my weight.
Ooomph!
Success.
The book popped out of the locker, and since Shannon was passing me at that moment, I used the momentum to let it fly.
