Page 40 of Losing a Piece of Me

“What did you say to me?” the teacher asks with a scowl on his face.

“I said, fuck you. You can do it yourself,” Striker says. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his seat, staring daggers at him.

The class gasps. Nobody talks to Mr. Collins that way. He’s the hard-ass around here. He’s given detention for something as simple as picking up a pencil off the floor.

“Hallway, NOW.” He grabs Striker by his shirt and pulls him from his chair.

“Get your hands off me.” He fights against him.

I can’t help but laugh. I don’t know why, maybe because this twelve-year-old boy has more balls than anyone I’ve ever seen. My own dad backs down when Mr. Collins speaks in his serious voice.

Striker’s eyes land on mine and my smile is still visible.

“Something funny, Ms. Grant?”

Everyone freezes.

I stand and place my hands on the top of my desk while I lean in just a bit. “You should probably take your hands off him. You are an adult and we have a class full of witnesses.”

He seems taken back. “Are you threatening me?”

I shrug.

“Both of you to the office now.” He continues to push Striker toward the door and I walk behind willingly.

When Striker sees me, he stops fighting and we share a look. I don’t know what that look is, but it’s filled with unspoken promises.

After we’re dropped off in the office, we sit and wait in the chairs lining the wall. My hand sits beside me, and Striker reaches over and takes it in his. Our eyes meet.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Thank you.”

I shrug. “For what? I didn’t do anything but get myself in trouble.”

“But you tried. Nobody else has ever tried for me before.”

The same look radiates from his eyes now. At the age of twelve, I didn’t know what it was, but now I do. It’s love. It’s ownership. It’s a special connection that only we have. It’s something that nobody else will ever get. It’s just us, me and him.

With one last thrust, we’re both falling together. He shudders inside me and my toes go numb. He collapses at my side and I curl into him.

After a moment of catching our breaths, he rolls to his side and places his hand on my cheek, forcing me to meet his eyes. They are bright green and clouded with lust. “Please tell me.”

“I love you, Striker.” His lips crash into mine again.

His heart is pounding so hard and fast for me. His breathing is deep and his touch sears my skin. Every place he touches me, it’s as if he is permanently tattooing my skin. Every touch, every kiss, and every word spoken, has become a part of me. Worked into sheer exhaustion, we both fall into a deep sleep.

When he pulls away from me, it’s almost awkward. He places me on my feet and we look at each other.

I’m frozen. That was our second kiss of the night.

“Come on, let’s get out of these woods before they send a search party for our asses.” He takes my hand and pulls me in the direction of the road we ran from.

The road is dark and quiet, and it doesn’t take us long to find our way back to the sign. We walk along the edge, holding hands but not talking. Both of us have so many unanswered questions. Are we going to talk about this? He kissed me twice.

Before I can ask, a car comes around the bend and Barney jumps out with his deputy. They each grab one of us as we struggle against them. Our efforts are futile.

We’re placed in the backseat of the police cruiser and driven to the station, where we’re taken to separate rooms for questioning.

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