Chevy yanks his phone out of his pocket, slides his finger across it and tosses it at me. “It’s Breanna. She’s dropped a mother of a bomb.”
On the screen is Breanna’s account, but confusion muddles my thoughts. It’s the picture of me and her. “Did the son of a bitch hack her account?”
“She posted it and she named Kyle. Whether she realized it or not, Breanna started a war. And here’s the thing, we were at practice when he found out. Kid looked crazy and he tore off.”
Ice water seeps into my veins. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“I tried,” Chevy says. “But coach physically held me back. As soon as he left, so did I and came straight here. If I was Kyle and my world was falling apart, I’d go after the source of the pain, brother, and we need to get to Breanna before he does.”
I could race out of here now. Return to controlling this problem. It’s what I’ve done for years. What instinct screams at me to do, but I can’t continue to rely only on myself. This doing it on my own...it’s what makes me weaker. The club is what makes me stronger.
I turn to Oz as I dial Breanna’s number. “Interrupt Church. If Kyle’s on the warpath, I need a wall of cuts surrounding her.”
Chevy pulls out his keys as Oz runs up the stairs. He pats me on the back as we head for our bikes. “Never thought I’d say this, but let’s go win you the girl.”
Win me the girl. It’s what I want, but for now, I’ll settle for her being safe.
Breanna answers after two rings. “Hello?”
I almost swear with relief at the sound of her sweet voice. “It’s me. Tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
“The bridge. I’m driving to the bridge because I want to talk to you.”
Breanna Miller @breanna212 · 2 hrs
I’m Breanna Miller. The smart girl. The quiet girl. The one who belongs to a large family. I’m Breanna Miller. Number 5 in the line of 9. The girl who everybody knows and nobody sees. I’m Breanna Miller. A girl who went to Shamrock’s and ended up falling in love with Thomas Turner—Razor of the Reign of Terror. The boy who everybody sees and nobody knows. I’ve been with him for months. I’m in love with him and I don’t care who knows.
I’m Breanna Miller. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I don’t know yet who I want to be. I’m Breanna Miller and I’m not sure what my future might hold.
I’m Breanna Miller and Kyle Hewitt took this picture of me and Razor after Razor saved me from a potentially dangerous situation. Kyle took pictures of me when I was vulnerable. He took this one when Razor was being a perfect gentleman. He took it in a moment where it looked like more happened than what really did.
And even if something did happen, that is between me and Razor and not between me, Razor and the rest of the world. Private lives should remain private. Period.
Kyle has been blackmailing me to write his papers. His first one is due on Monday. I won’t be writing it. In fact, because of this picture, I possibly won’t be in school anymore, nor will I be in Snowflake, and any dreams I’ve had for my life might be ruined.
I’m Breanna Miller and you’ll think of me whatever you want. Some of you might call me a freak. Some of you might call me a slut. Call me whatever you want, but I’m Breanna Miller and I know who I am and it officially doesn’t matter what any of you think.
Share, like, comment. It doesn’t matter. At midnight tonight, I’ll be deleting this account.
Breanna
LIAM’S ENGINE WHINES when it hits forty-five, so I’ve kept the speedometer to under forty. He’s going to be furious when he discovers I “borrowed” his car without his permission, but there’s too much at stake.
The muscles in my neck tighten as I turn onto the access road that leads to the bridge and my skin vibrates with nervous anticipation. This dread is like a sixth sense screaming at me that the world is collapsing. That’s because it is. It’s been a bad day, a bad night, just a bad...life.
But then I think of Razor’s hands touching my bare back, the way his lips feathered kisses along my neck. It’s not all bad. Some of it has been very, very good.
Razor. It’s like my soul breathed his name.
Razor is the only thing that’s been right in my life.
A rumble of an engine from behind me and my eyes flicker to the rearview mirror. The late-afternoon sun glints off the windshield and nausea strikes my stomach hard and fast. Cherry-red muscle car. It’s Kyle.
He lays on the horn and uneasiness tiptoes through my bloodstream. This area is isolated. No traffic, no houses, no farms. Just very, very alone.
Kyle blares his horn again and my palms sweat. Fading fall grass borders both sides of the narrow road. There’s nowhere to go. No sanctuary in sight.