Page 82 of Lines

I guess today’s the lucky day.

His grey eyes are narrowed at me, and mine at him. I knew from our last fight that he is a decent opponent. With similar height and built, there are no guarantees who will be the winner once we get down to it.

There is also the fact that we both want the same thing, and it isn’t in our nature to share. The strange thing is—we are as similar as much as we are different. That’s the main reason we can never be friends.

“Just go home, King.”

The way he says it, he almost sounds tired.

“Not until I talk to Amelia.” I stick a finger to his chest, hard, just to make my point clear.

He shoves me back, making me sway on the heels of my feet. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sanders’ fist connects with my cheekbone before I can even blink. The pain burns and eats at my skin. I can already feel a bruise forming under my eye.

“Max! Derek!” Amelia yells at us. “Stop it, now!”

Ignoring her completely and without waiting a second, I swing back at him. Sanders dodges my right hook, but the left safely connects with his gut making him bend forward.

What follows is a blur of punches and movements. We end up all over each other, I’m not even sure who tackled who, but soon we are rolling on the floor, battling for the advantage of being the man on the top.

For each hit I deliver, I get one back. We don’t hold anything back. It’s like all the pent up anger has finally passed the limit of being held back. The last straw.

There is commotion and yelling around us, but we are too stuck in our own world.

“What do you two punks think you are doing?” Amelia’s father’s hard voice freezes us both. “Get up and get off of my property. Now!”

Both Sanders and I stay down on the ground, staring at each other before we move and do as the man said.

“Mr. Camp-,” we start at the same time, but he interrupts us with one sharp, decisive move of a hand.

“I don’t fucking care.” He shoves his meaty finger hard in my chest first, then Sanders’. “You two are acting like immature, stupid, and hormonal thirteen years old boys, but I’m having none of it in my house. Now, go before I call the cops.”

During his tirade, he helped us move down the stairs. Or more like his big hands land on our shoulders and push us off his front porch.

Now he is standing where only a few minutes ago Sanders was. Hands crossed over his chest, blocking our way into the house, and anybody that could be behind, not leaving us another option than to leave.

I’ve seen Peter Campbell only a few times, but he doesn’t seem like a guy you would mess around with. He works as an architect and is always busy working on some kind of a project.

He has a few inches over me and has bulky built. His strong jawline is tightened and covered in 5 o’clock, reddish-brown stubble that matches the color of his short hair. Dark eyes that, if I don’t know better, are filled with disappointment and carefully following our every move.

“I don’t want to see you around anymore,” he calls after us, and I can clearly hear him mumble—something about today’s kids and their lack of manners or some shit like that—as I walk away.

Derek

“What do you think you are doing here?” Standing in the middle of the doorway, I cross my hands over my chest. “And you bring my best friend as a backup, no less.”

“Move aside, you idiot,” Andrew shoulders his way inside, leaving me standing by the door half shocked as both he and Max move into my house.

The bag of half-melted peas is hanging from my hand.

I’m lucky that both of my parents are working the night shift at the hospital so I won’t need to explain my blue eye, cut lip, and bruised cheek to them until later tomorrow. That is if Mr. Campbell didn’t already call them and complained about the fight.

Snapping out of it, I follow behind them to the living room where Max puts the six-pack of beer I didn’t see him carry on the table. Taking one can out of the pack, he flops down on the couch and presses the cool object to his swollen eye. Andrew follows suit, flopping into the recliner.

Max doesn’t look any better than me. Apart from the eye, his lip is swollen and there is one cut on his eyebrow.

“You smirk all you want, but Jeanette is pissed like hell.” He smirks right back at me. “So if I were you, I’d keep close attention to my family jewels.”

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