“Ugh, I think my dick is broken,” Madoc groaned as he adjusted himself right in the middle of the hallway at school.
I shook my head at him before nodding to a couple of friends passing by.
“Then stick to girls, asshole,” I joked. “They’re probably softer than the guys you like.”
Strolling down the hallway on the first day of Senior year, I felt a breeze washing over me that no one else felt. Madoc was bragging about his conquests, I got the classes I wanted, and I was almost done with the visitations to the prison.
In the time that Tate had been back, and a week since her escapade at my party, I’d slept peacefully, too. I almost felt happy.
“So,” Madoc spoke up. “Tate’s got a little fan club already. I’m assuming you’ve heard the talk.”
I had. As much as I hated the few things I’d heard other guys saying about her, they weren’t necessarily bad things. No one had mentioned her tits or ass, so I wouldn’t have to pound them into the pavement.
No, they just talked about how beautiful she looked. About how she carried herself now. Confidence she’d gained abroad, I was sure.
And I loved the attention she was getting. After all, the higher she rose, the harder she’d fall.
“Tatum isn’t even in her own fan club,” I mumbled.
We grabbed some food and sat down at our usual table in the cafeteria. Madoc ate like the athlete in The Breakfast Club. He almost needed two trays for the sandwiches, pizza, chips, Gatorades, and brownies he bought, whereas I hated eating big meals during the day. A sandwich or burrito and a couple of drinks were my usual.
The result: Madoc fell asleep during his afternoon classes, and I could make it through work with energy to spare.
“So how are we doing this?” He addressed his question to me as Sam and his friend, Gunnar, parked it at the table and began digging into their food.
Placing the cap back on my bottle of water and wiping the back of my hand across my lips, I peered up at him, not sure what conversation he’d started that I’d missed. “How are we doing what?”
“Tate,” he said as if I should’ve known. “Are we or are we not leaving her alone this year?”
I leaned back in my chair. “I do what I want. I’ll let you know if I need your help.”
“Shhh,” Madoc hissed. “There she is.” He jerked his chin towards the doors ahead, my gaze following.
She walked up to the line and got her tray, and I took inventory of everything. For my battle plan, of course.
Her body moved slowly, almost methodically. There was something about how rigid her back looked.
She wasn’t relaxed.
I hoped it was me. I hoped she felt me in here, watching her.
I liked watching her move, but I tensed up when I realized that every other guy in here was probably appreciating the same view.
It was a good view, and I couldn’t not look.
Her hair used to hang straight, but from the few times I’d seen her in the past week, she seemed to favor a wavier style now. The lights above made the strands sparkle down to their tips. Her long, thin shirt covered her ass on one side but had caught on the waist of her jeans on the other, leaving her behind visible in her tight jeans.
“Well,” Madoc piped up, “come up with better stuff this time. The date sabotaging is childish.”
What?
And then I realized he was continuing a discussion I didn’t remember starting.
“Get yourself paired up on a project with her or something,” he continued. “So much you could do with that kind of time together.”
Time together?
Oh, yeah. We were talking about the “Tate plan of attack.”
“This isn’t foreplay, Madoc.” I was setting Madoc straight just like Tate set K.C. straight. “I’m not looking to hook up with her.”
I watched her walk to a far table and sit down… with her back to me.
My lips turned up.
She didn’t want to risk making eye contact with me, and it was a victory.
Madoc started laughing, almost choking as he tried to swallow his food. “You’re right,” he coughed out, his eyes watering. “Anyone who sees the way you look at her knows you don’t want to hook up with her.” He shook his head. “No, right now you’re looking at her like you want to tie her up and give her a big, fat spanking.”
Stupid ass.
I wasn’t into shit like that, or…I didn’t think I was. Never tried it. Might try it, I guess. You should try everything at least once.
Except crystal meth.
“No?” he challenged, peering over at me when I didn’t answer. “Well, I guess this won’t make you jealous then.”
And he pushed his chair back, scraping the legs on the floor as he rounded the table and walked towards the other side of the lunchroom. Towards Tate.
Son of a bitch.
I was going to cut off his broken dick and feed it to Madman.
My short black sleeves stretched across my biceps, and I realized I’d tensed damn-near every muscle in my body.
I watched, fuming, as Madoc approached Tate and leaned into her ear, speaking. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, of course, but I saw Tate’s back straighten and knew she was uncomfortable.
Good.
But I didn’t feel good. I seemed to get high from pressing her buttons, but I never liked it when others took it upon themselves to follow my example. When Madoc had commented on her chest last year at the party—right before she broke his nose—I’d almost cut his balls off.
Helping me taunt her at times was one thing, but talking shit about her body—and in public—got my fucking temper up. Even I didn’t do that. If she hadn’t punched him, then I would’ve.
His hand glided down her back, and I balled my hand into a fist.
Goddammit! Didn’t we just have this talk?
Air poured in and out of my nose as I watched, unblinking, his hand fall intimately over her body and descend to her ass.
I shot out of my chair but immediately halted when Tate jerked out of her seat and grabbed Madoc by the shoulders, slamming him in the balls with her knee.
Holy shit!
I sucked in quick, short breaths, trying not to laugh at seeing my best friend fall to his knees, groaning like a wounded animal.
Tate circled him, and I sat down to watch her.
“Don’t touch me, and don’t talk to me,” she sneered. “Did you really think I would go out with you?”
He asked her out?
“I hear the girls talk,” she continued, “and contrary to popular belief, good things do not come in small packages.” Her voice was strong, like she was completely comfortable in her skin. Everyone caught the joke as she crooked her pinky finger to the amused crowd, insinuating that Madoc had a small dick.
“Thanks for the offer anyway, Madoc,” she said in a sweet sing-song voice.
Picking up her tray, she headed through the crowd, tossed away her lunch, and headed for the doors as every eye in the room followed her. Even mine.
I leaned back again, remembering how she’d cry or just leave every time Madoc or I did something. Now, it was ten year old Tate again, rocking my fucking world.
She stopped at the double doors, and I narrowed my eyes on her as she turned around, looking straight at me. Her eyes zoned in, killing the distance between us and bringing me dead in her face, so I could smell her skin.
She was everything. She knew my game, she matched me, and she was going to be a joy to take down. Then, and only then, would I have proven that I didn’t need her or anyone else.