“You fucking touch her, and this comes down on you, you feel me?” I roared.
“You don’t have the balls, you little shit.”
“Try me, motherfucker,” I hissed.
Fear showed again, and I now knew his tell.
Everyone has a sign, a slip that shows a weakness, a small way in.
High school wasn’t easy for a kid who had the looks. I’m not being cocky, either. I own a mirror and know how females look at me. Not having the cash for the right threads or the right things everyone else had, I became a behind-the-scenes kind of guy to a variety of the it girls in school. They waited their turn.
One chick, Annie, was dating a jock whose name was Aiden, and he cheated on her. Then she started coming on to me. One day after school, she asked for my number—away from her group of friends, of course. I told her I didn’t have a cell. She acted shocked, and I walked away.
Next day, she hands me a phone. “It’s prepay. I’ll text you.”
“Nah, I don’t want it. Thanks, though,” I told her.
“It’s for me, not you.” Dismissively, she walked away with me still holding the phone.
That night when she texted me, telling me it was her, I asked where she got the phone. After some convincing, I found out it was from a drugstore a block away from the school.
After school, I walked in there and found the phone in aisle six. It was fifty bucks on sale.
For a week, I dragged my ass out of bed at five in the morning to walk up and down the street with a shovel until I found people wanting their sidewalks cleared.
On Friday, I walked into school and handed her sixty bucks. “Phone’s mine.” Then I walked away.
That afternoon, I was taking trash out from the bar when she pulled up in her little Beamer. It was older but pretty fucking sweet.
“Go for a ride with me?” she asked when the window rolled down.
“Nah.” I shook my head.
“Morrison Caldwell, how much more do I have to do or say to let you know I’m interested in you?” Annie said, then smiled.
I shook my head and tried not to return the smile, but I did. “You still dating Aiden Law?”
“Depends.” She smiled again.
“On?”
“You, of course.”
I watched her send a text. “Get in and I’ll show you what I just sent.”
“You a little tease?” I smirked, then leaned in, grabbing for her phone.
“Not at all. Get in.”
As soon as I got in, she handed me her phone, and she hadn’t been teasing. She had told him she was done, broke up with the poor bastard in a text message.
You hear all about those heart-crushing Dear John letters. Hell, even movies are made about them. Yet, I’m here to tell you, those letter writers ain’t got shit on Siri. That bitch has broken more hearts than they could even begin to imagine.
Annie’s hand was on my thigh as soon as she pulled away from the curb. Her lips were on my dick as soon as we parked in the alley between two abandoned warehouses. Not gonna lie, I filled her mouth much quicker than I’d like to admit—and just as quickly, I was sure I was in love with Annie. Gotta have something to do with a chick who swallows or getting my first blow job, though I’m not sure which.
I’d had dozens of hand jobs, finger-fucked plenty of chicks, eaten plenty of pussy, but none of that shit resulted in love. A blow job that ended in her swallowing my load, however—well, I was seeing stars and shit.
Annie was a giver in all ways possible. She not only loved to suck dick, but she was a little gift giver, too. It started out with notes, and then she was bringing me lunch. When she gave me a new pair of sneakers, I was hesitant, but mine were beat to hell.
“I just want everyone else to see you the way I do.” She smiled as she lifted up on her little navy Jimmy Choo espadrilles and kissed me in front of everyone in the hallway, then walked away.
Valentine’s Day, she gave me a leather jacket, which was a little over the top. I was still shoveling sidewalks to save enough to buy her a Tiffany necklace.
That little heart cost me three hundred bucks, even secondhand from a pawnshop. She wore it with such pride. The night I gave it to her, we fucked on the pool table at the bar, where she’d met me after sneaking out of her house.
Wasn’t her first time. It was mine.
The next day, I’m wearing the hell out of that leather when Aiden comes up to me and tells me he wants his jacket back.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I slammed my locker shut, then turned to face him and his five friends.