Page 31 of Close Quarters

And damned if I wasn’t pissed about the way they had talked about him, which only irritated me more. Here I was, thinking how attractive he would be in other circumstances, but I got pissed because someone basically called him a prison slut. Maybe it was hypocritical, but fuck if I cared, there was a difference between being horny and being a prick.

Why was I mentally defending him?

“Don’t you have something to fucking do?” I asked him as he rolled onto his stomach, practically presenting his ass to me. I did not need him to tease me, even if it was accidental. My temper was already high, and for whatever reason, my brain liked to use it to fuel my horniness. Which, in normal life, was fine, but not when I was trying not to stare at my annoying bunkmate’s ass while fighting off the urge to go beat someone else’s.

“Yeah, I did,” Elliot said, twisting around to glare at me. “Until you decided to get pissed off and come stomping back here, ruining my plans for the day. So go back to your book and leave me the fuck alone.”

“You didn’t have to come back here,” I told him, sitting up and glaring. Now, I was even more mad that I had felt even the faintest inkling of protectiveness over him. It wasn’t like he needed me to protect him, and I sure as shit didn’t want to be his protector. “You could have just stayed there and left me the fuck alone…for once.”

“Right, because I totally wasn’t assigned to be your goddamn Siamese twin or what the fuck ever,” he snapped, rolling around in a huff to glare back at me.

I stared at him, taken aback by his sudden shift in temperament. Well, it wasn’t like I hadn’t been goading him, but there were other times I was rough with him, and he never seemed to take the bait or at least brushed it off with a snotty comment. Other people loved to point out how bad my attitude was, but at least it was consistent. Whereas Elliot was just…unpredictable.

“Well,” I began, rolling over to sit up. I wasn’t going to lay around and be yelled at by this hyperactive manchild without getting up to face him. “I didn’t ask you to do that! You could have just left me in peace. You could have let me walk off without following like a puppy!”

“A puppy?” he snapped, standing up, his arms rigid at his side. “Are you shitting me? If I’d done that, you would have been completely fucked. Don’t even try to act like you wouldn’t have been shipped right back to whatever cell you first came from because that’s exactly what they would have done, and you know it!”

“And who the hell asked you to be my fucking savior?” I growled, standing up to walk closer to him. “I didn’t need you to come in and save the fucking day! You could have minded your own business just like you should have minded your own business over that Riley shit.”

“Mind my business when you decided to hit a guy who literally only beat you at some playful wrestling? Are you shitting me? Maybe you’re okay with people being assholes for no reason and shrugging it off, but I’m sure as shit not.”

Jesus, was this a lecture now? As if I didn’t already know.

“Don’t get uppity with me. You got locked up just the same as me.”

“Yeah, because I fucked up, and when some asshole decided he was going to take things too far, I sold myself out, alright?”

“Oh, how very moral of you. Does that make you feel good? Better?”

“Oh Fuck you,” he hissed, jabbing me in the chest with a finger. “Out of the two of us, the only one walking around with a fucking attitude is you. I did what I did because it was the right thing. Maybe instead of trying to shit on me for that, you should realize that’s the whole point of being here, trying to do better.”

“Oh yes, please lecture me on what I’m supposed to be doing. Why don’t you go back to being a good Boy Scout and leave me to deal with shit how I want to? Mind your own business!”

He gave a harsh snort. “Yeah, okay. So what’d you do then? Huh?”

“What the fuck business is it of yours?” I asked, taking a step back before I lashed out at him in surprise. That was one of the rules they gave to you on day one, never ask what someone did to be behind bars in the first place. It was also the rule most guys here followed to the letter, probably because, like me, they didn’t want to be grilled about their past fuck ups.

“I mean, you want to stand there and judge me on the little I told you,” he sneered, leaning closer. “So yeah, I’m wondering what ground you’re standing on right now. I have the high ground according to you, so what? You have the badass ground? The mean ground?”

“What does that even fucking mean?”

“So what? Beat someone’s ass? Almost kill someone in a fit of rage?”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“Seems like your sort of thing. I mean, that temper got you into trouble here, so it makes sense it would happen out in the world.”

“Elliot, fucking stop.”

“So what? Some random guy gave you a dirty look? You don’t seem like the wife-beater type, but who the fuck knows? Was it that?”

“Enough!” I roared, grabbing him by the shirt and shoving him back. The sound of his body and head hitting the wall was satisfying, so I pulled him back and banged him back into it again, and once more, just to get him to stop. “Shut your fucking mouth or so help?—”

My nose and forehead exploded with pain as he drove his head forward and slammed into mine. My grip loosened as bright white took over my vision for a moment. It was all he needed to yank free and bring his fist up into my gut. I had no chance to recover from the shock of how brutally he returned my attack as he barreled into me. Either there was a fierceness I had missed entirely, or all that manual labor had really paid off.

I managed to keep to my feet, refusing to let him take me to the ground where practiced instinct knew I would be vulnerable. All I could do was grab him as I was forced to stumble backward, feet sliding and slipping until I slammed into the opposite wall. However, I was prepared for the blow and tensed in time to keep the air in my lungs. I felt his grip shift and grabbed him hard, giving a harsh grunt as I picked him up and tossed him away.

Elliot hit the ground, forced to roll into the chair near the desk. Under any other circumstances, I would have grimaced when the chair leg broke from the force, and his legs slammed into the desk before stopping. In this case, though, it was gratifying as he lay there for a moment, probably trying to get his bearings.

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