Page 23 of Endless Anger
I could do it. I am my father’s son after all.
Passing by Foxe as he argues with Aurora, I shove my hands in my pockets and head in Lucy’s direction. I’m unable to take my gaze off her, especially when the spiky-haired blond leans in, brushing something from Lucy’s cheek.
She freezes, and so does he, their eyes locked.
Jealousy roars to life inside my chest, making it burn.
“I’d love to know your thoughts about the governmental versus individual impact on the current state of the climate crisis,” the blond tells her in a slow, smooth voice. His hand remains on her face, his fingers opening to cup her jaw and tilt her head.
The other guy, with long dark hair hidden beneath his jacket, slides a little closer, almost edging her out of my view.
My heart thumps deep and heavy, anger pumping slowly from the organ to the rest of my body.
“Individuals have a responsibility,” Lucy says, slurring just slightly. “But the main blame should be on the govern—” She hiccups, interrupting her own sentence, and sways on her feet.
Spiky slips an arm around her waist. “Careful there, sweetheart.”
“Yeah,” the dark-haired one agrees with a smile. “Don’t get yourself worked up just yet. Save your energy.”
Lucy frowns, pulling away from the blond. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, just?—”
As I skid to a stop behind them, I snatch a box of matches from the girl bent over the bonfire, trying to get it started. With a flick of my wrist, the match in my hand flares up, and I mimic tripping over myself, sending the little stick flying.
It lands on the blond guy, and in a split second, a spark erupts on his tweed jacket, catching on the fabric.
Flames spread instantly, engulfing the immediate area. He releases Lucy, jumping back and frantically patting and swatting the arm, trying to get the fire to go out.
He shrugs the coat off, dropping it to the ground, where his friend stomps on it.
“Jesus fuck, man!” he shouts, drawing the attention of the rest of the crowd. The flames go out after a moment, but his eyes are still wild, his breathing labored.
I blink at him. “Oops.”
“Oops?What the hell is your problem?”
“I tripped.”
His eyes blaze, and he steps closer, trying to shove his nose in my face. I have a few inches on him though, so it’s not an easy feat.
A grin stretches slowly across my mouth. “Doyouhave a problem?”
“Apparently, I do, Anderson. I should fuck up your face for trying to set me on fire.”
“Go ahead,” I tell him. “I don’t have to go to school Monday and explain to the principal why I ended up with a broken nose and missing front teeth though, so I’d think it through before you hit me. I might enjoy it.”
Excitement tingles beneath the surface of my skin, heating me in ways Lucy’s presence never has—theonlyway she never has, because the anger isn’t something she touches.
She’s a balm to it most of the time. Yet right now, I suppose, she’s the source.
Fear flashes in the blond’s eyes, just for a moment. He clears his throat, shrinking back an inch. “That was a brand-new coat. Cost sixteen hundred dollars.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t wear flammable clothing to abonfire.”
“All fucking clothing is flammable, douchebag.” Bending to collect the jacket, he huffs, glancing at Lucy. Nodding to his friend, he makes a noise of disgust, turning away from us. “Whatever, man. She’s not fucking drunk enough to be worth it.”
My knuckles ache to drive into his face, but they traipse off before I can do anything more, likely to find other unsuspecting inebriated girls to prey on.
