Page 51 of Bad Boy
I breathe a sigh of relief when it’s just the annoying douchebag and not a fucking grizzly or Unknown. Connor smiles wide like we’re old pals or some shit, which is different from the hostile vibes he was giving off this morning when Linc was there.
“Hey, Rem!” I want to roll my eyes but abstain. Why do these tools automatically think we’re friends? As if I’m actually one of them. It’s laughable, really. I guess Brandon didn’t relay the fuck-all-the-way-offmemo to him. Shitty friend. But no surprise there. He was probably embarrassed at how he nearly pissed his pants. Didn’t want his friend to know.
“Sup, Connor? Where’s your partner?” I already can’t remember the big dude’s name, or maybe I never knew it.
“Oh, Gus is on his way here to meet me now. So we can return to the campsite as a pair. We took turns, and he’s been at the cabin getting high for the past hour and a half. As soon as we eat, it’s my turn,” he tells me, grinning with excitement.
I can’t deny the logic in that or the fact that I plan to do the same after dinner. But his next words crush any hope I may have had that he’s not actually a vile cuntbag.
“I’m glad I caught you alone, bro. I just wanted to say sorry you got stuck shacking up with the goody-two-shoes gay boy. That’s gotta be hella awkward morning wood.” He chuckles casually like it’s not a horribly offensive thing to say.
This would normally be the moment that I loudly andviolentlydeclare my bisexuality, but no one knows Linc is gay. He hasn’t come out, and I know he’s not ready. I’d only be confirming this asshole’s hate speech, and I refuse to do that.
So instead, I settle for the violence-only option as rage burns through my veins, igniting my fury. The gruesome imagery flashing through my mind is urging me to risk everything and jump-kick Connor straight in the face.
I have zero tolerance for homophobic bullshit, and I react on instinct. My right hook lashes out lightning fast, cracking into his jaw hard enough that pain splinters through my knuckles and up my hand. His head snaps to the side, but he recovers quickly, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the mud below.
It was a warning shot. A punishment of sorts. I know he’s heard the rumors, and although not all of them are true, they aren’t all lies, either. I will lay his fucking ass out if he comes at me.
Connor stands there frozen for a moment, dull brown eyes staring back at me in shock. A skinny trail of blood drips down his chin, speckling his white hoodie with crimson droplets.
The reprieve lasts all of three seconds, and then he launches himself at me. I side-step, shoving him forward and causing him to trip over his feet. He faceplants to the ground comically. I can’t believe this tool is the school football star.
“Fucking rookie move, Con,” I taunt because I don’t give a single fuck about his feelings.
He scrambles to his feet, but the slick mud has him slipping, and he falls to his knees instead.
“Stay down, you little bitch,” I grit out. “That punch was me letting you know to watch your fucking mouth. I won’t tolerate hate of any kind. Especially involving my friends.”
His normally pale skin is mottled red, and his nostrils flare like a bull ready to charge.
I’m reckless. Impulsive. And I wave the red flag.
“I expected you to hold your own in a fight,” I goad. “But, let me tell you. I am less than fucking impressed,bro.”
That does it, and Connor lunges for me in one smooth motion. It catches me off guard for a split second, and he manages a solid punch. Right in the gut.
Oof.
I double over, wheezing as the air is forced out of me. Cradling my stomach, Connor sees his opening and takes it, delivering a swift uppercut straight to my face. I stumble back a step, hands instantly in guard position.
Motherfucker!
I reach up, lightly touching my tender cheekbone. I have enough experience to know that’ll most likely turn into a black eye. And Mom is gonna be on my ass about what happened.
Blood whooshes in my ears, and my vision tunnels. An inhuman roar bursts from my lips, untamed and animalistic. I tackle him to the muddy ground with a splat.
Straddling him, I rear back, intending to slam my fist into his nose. He throws his forearms up, blocking me before I make contact.
While he’s guarding his face, I land three punches in quick succession to his ribcage. Not hard enough to break anything, but he’ll definitely be uncomfortable in his football pads for a week or two.
As expected, Connor attempts to block his torso, exposing his face.
I plan to make the little bitch even more nasally.
Before I can take my shot, two massive arms rip me away, stealing the air from my lungs.
I slam my head back, attempting to head-butt whoever-the-fuck just snatched me up, but I miss.
