Take Me On

“I’m game.” A smile stretches across my face. “I’ve got the balls, what about you?”


I’ve been dying for this moment since my first day of school. To hell with the fight next month, I’m ready to finish this. I stride past Haley and a tug on my wrist pulls me to a stop. I glance down and she grabs on to me with both hands. “Not here. Not now.”

“Haley,” I say, utterly exasperated and pissed. I’ve never had anyone doubt my strength as much as she has. I’m over her assumption that I’m weak and done with her thinking I don’t care enough to lay down my life for her. “I can take him.”

“This is where I work.” Her fingers shake against my skin and her eyes are hazy, as if waking from a dream. The urge is to kick his ass and it’s hard as hell to listen to what she’s telling me...that I could cost Haley her job.

“Fuck.” I crouch beside her and place my hand on her frozen cheek. Being a selfish bastard, the connection isn’t for her. It’s to keep me from losing control and smashing my fist into that asshole’s face. Jesus, why is she always so damn cold? “Are you okay?”

Haley nods and her eyes automatically dart back to Matt. The bastard stays seated on the other end of the curb and watches us; specifically, he focuses on my hand on her face.

“What’s it like to be * whipped?” he asks.

The muscles in my body jerk, but instead of removing his balls with my foot, I slide my thumb against Haley’s skin and kiss her forehead. She sags into me and I kiss her one more time before glaring at Matt. That’s right, she’s not your property. Haley chooses me. “Sorry I’m late. You ready to go?”

“Yes.”

I enfold her into the shelter of my body the moment she stands.

“Consider it, Haley,” Matt says as if I’m not here. “I’m not expecting an answer tonight. You and I could save a lot of people from a lot of heartache. It’s your choice.”

“Yes,” she says slowly. “It always seems to be my choice.”

I hate the tilt of her head, the faraway glaze in her eyes, all of it screaming that whatever he said to her has her thinking, analyzing, and I don’t want one word from that bastard circling in Haley’s mind. “Let’s go.”

I guide her to the SUV, tuck Haley safely inside, then join her when I climb into the driver’s side. With the car on, I blast the heater and tear out of the parking lot, craving to put as much distance between Haley and Matt as possible.

With her head lolling against the headrest, Haley stares out the window, looking as lost as I felt after Abby’s “present” to me. Abby’s got to be lying again because Mom’s parents are dead and she has no siblings. Abby’s confession from weeks ago echoes in my brain: Have you ever found out something you wished you hadn’t?

I peek at Haley out of the corner of my eye. I asked her once if she still had feelings for Matt, but I’ve never asked for details on their relationship. In fact, I’ve never asked her about anything and the kick in the nuts is the realization that Haley hasn’t asked anything about me, either.

All this time I thought I had coasted at school and with Haley in regard to my past, but it’s easy to coast when no one gives a shit.

Lights and cars become blurs as I speed down the road and head for the highway. Haley doesn’t seem to notice when we pass the turn for the gym and I fucking hate the sensation that only her body is present because her soul is still at that damn curb.

“What the hell is going on with you?” I ask. “With Matt?”

As usual, she’s silent, choosing to be locked away inside her brain—thinking, analyzing, not sharing, not talking. Haley plots and she plans, but she hardly ever discusses. “Say something!”

“Take a right.”

“What?”

Haley peers toward the oncoming street and her fingers hover near the window like she’s a child frightened to touch a broken piece of glass. “Take a right.”

Muttering a curse under my breath, I hang the right and we enter a neighborhood. My headlights hit one of those signs with a kid chasing a ball informing me to slow my ass down. I do and idle along at twenty-five as I wait for her further instructions.

Most of the homes are two-story brick houses that flaunt amateur landscaping. It’s better than her uncle’s but lower scale than where I live. Overall it’s nice, pleasant and very suburban.

“Stop.” There’s a longing in her voice that pricks at my chest. Haley presses her hand against the window; condensation forms an outline along her fingers. “That’s my house.”

I shift the car into Park. It’s a lot like the others: two stories, a chimney, but this one has a front porch, blue shutters, rosebushes and a for sale sign with the word sold.