“Don’t you dare mock me.”
“Oh, Brett, I would never!” I touch a hand to my chest. “Why would I do that?”
"I wouldn't rely on Brandon Slade coming to save you if I were you," Brett says, his green eyes flashing. "The Thunder Crows and the Savage Reapers don't get along."
“No? Who named that gang anyhow? Reapers are by definition savage.”
“Not so. Reapers tend to be just the delivery person. Send you to hell, fly you up to Heaven. Not these. They’re every bit as savage as they come, and they do the sending of people to hell all by themselves.”
“So they’ve killed?”
“Didn’t you claim your Daddy-O did the same?”
“Not a claim,” I say through gritted teeth.
“How do you know my father hasn’t done the same?”
“He hasn’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Your father isn’t the leader. He’s just a runt, and that’s all you are, Brett. You’re a runt. Doesn’t matter how big and tall you are. You’re nothing. Nothing to me, nothing to the world.”
“Sure.” He winks at me. “You and I both know that that little bit of grappling we did made you all wet. Didn’t it?”
I close my eyes and shake my head.
“Do you want to prove that?” he whispers.
He’s invading my space, stalking me, forcing me back against the lockers.
“Don’t you dare touch me.”
“Oh, I thought you could insert your fingers and pull them out, and we can see for ourselves how wet—or dry—you are.”
“How about we see how wet or dry you are?” I snap.
He thrusts his pelvis out, grinding against me hard. Fuck. He’s winning again.
But not for long.
This time, I do reach my hand between us. He is hard as fuck, and I stroke him through his pants once. Twice. Three times. His eyes roll back, and he closes his eyes as his hands come down to undo his pants.
I pull his pants down more and more, exposing his cock. Fuck, is it thick and veiny.
But I don't touch him. Instead, I slide out from between him and the lockers, grab the flyer and my backpack, and run away as quietly as I can.
Brett's laughing, but the sound is forced. I know I just got him good, but why do I feel like he still got me too? Especially because he knows the name of my father, and if he can so easily find my father, my father's going to be easily able to find me too, isn't he?
Fuck.
* * *
My first class is calculus. At this point, there's no reason to go to homeroom, and calculus is with Brett. He's late to class, and I have to wonder if he went to the bathroom to take care of something. He is whistling and seems happy enough despite everything, but he doesn't look at me or say anything, and that's fine with me.
Next, of course, is English Literature and Composition, and I’m excited and nervous to see Tyler again. When he comes in after me, I wait until we sit to lean over.
“Did you put something in my locker this morning?” I ask.