Page 11 of Uppercut Princess

“Again,” I say, losing patience. I can’t have Brawler interfering in this. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t be dumb, New Girl.”

“My name’s Kyla, and I’ll be sticking around, so you might as well learn it.”

I try to push past him, but he’s like an immovable wall of muscle. His muscles flex as soon as I graze them. “Don’t do anything stupid. Take my advice.”

He gives me space to move out of the way, and I push through only to stop short when I see who’s standing only a few feet away. Oscar’s leaning back against a locker, looking much like I saw him on the first day of school. He kicks off the row of metal as soon as we spot one another. “What’s this?” he asks, looking between Brawler and me.

The heat from Brawler’s torso warms my back as soon as he steps behind me. When he speaks, his voice sounds gruffer. “I was warning her to stay away from Nevaeh.”

A cocky grin stretches Oscar’s lips. “Yeah, I guess she really didn’t like what happened earlier, huh?”

Brawler nods. “That’s the word being passed around.”

Oscar reaches out to play with the short hair around my temple that’s escaped from my ponytail. “I guess I should’ve seen that coming. Nevaeh doesn’t like being taken down a peg or two. Even when she’s in the wrong.”

“She wants to fight Princess here.”

My jaw locks. That fucking name needs to die. Instead of blowing up, I smile sweetly at Oscar. “I told Brawler it was a misunderstanding.”

Oscar’s arm drops down to his side. He peeks over my shoulder at Brawler then back at me. “Whether it was or wasn’t, doesn’t change anything.”

The look in his eyes is cold. A familiarity seeps through me. I recognize some of myself in him.

“You can fix this, man,” Brawler says. “Look at her,” he says, motioning toward me, “She’s going to get seriously hurt. She doesn’t belong here.”

I guess no one has ever told these guys that appearances aren’t everything. Wasn’t that something we should’ve learned a long time ago? Don’t judge a book by its cover and all that jazz? These guys are going to have a rude awakening when I step into that ring.

Oscar laughs. The sound chills me. He’s perfected the art of not giving a fuck. I suspect a lot of the people here have—except Brawler. I still can’t figure out why he’s even giving me the time of day. “Why would I do that? I said she was going to last two days, today’s the second day. She’ll probably run home tonight after the threat of violence and beg her parents to take her the hell away from here.”

“I don’t have parents,” I say

Brawler talks over me. “This one’s on you then, man. Remember that.”

“Isn’t everything on me?”

Brawler and Oscar stare at one another. Unspoken words pass between them. Their eyes flare, their muscles bunch. They’re having a battle of wills I’m not privy to, but I can taste the testosterone they exert on my tongue. It smells like bad decisions and musk.

My heart flutters.

I don’t dare speak or move while they eye one another. It’s Oscar who moves first. He holds his arm out to me. “Lunch?”

I stare at his offered hand and then up to him. “Um, what?”

“Sit with me at lunch.”

“Isn’t that just going to piss Nevaeh off more?”

“Yes, but I suspect it’s also going to piss someone else off.” His eyes flick behind me. “Which makes it that much more exciting.”

I look over my shoulder to find Brawler shaking his head. He walks away, his long strides taking him away far quicker than if I were to hurry off the same way.

A grin teases Oscar’s lips. “I swear I’m a nicer guy than Brawler makes me out to be.”

“Didn’t you just say that I was only going to last two days and you were okay with that?”

“That’s just years of experience talking.” He drops his voice, murmuring into the now empty hall. “There’s no shame in running away.” Even though he offers it with a grin, I’m not meant to take him up on it.

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