Page 134 of Falling in Reverse

Reeve frowns. Like hardcore appears disappointed. “Damn.”

Torin shoves his friend lightly and jerks his head for me to follow him. “C’mon, Wildfire. I got a spot all picked out for you.”

“How about here?” I counter, pointing to the cement. “I’m not moving.”

Pretty Boy sighs heavily. “Why don’t you be the bad guy for once, Stanton, and grab the girl?”

Reeve runs his palm around the back of his neck. “Not after the stories you and Cairo have told me about her kickin’ the shit out of you. I can’t risk that I might not be able to use my dick for a few days.”

Good choice.

Torin doesn’t wait for my response and proceeds toward me. And, I know he’s not above manhandling me.

I extend a hand. “Don’t.”

“Then let’s go,” he orders, jerking his head for me to follow, and turns to walk back toward the basketball court.

Reeve waits for me, and I huff that I’m stuck with these dumbasses who would make a bigger deal out of my not listening than if I just do.

Following Torin, he stops in front of a janky set of metal bleachers as I stride across faded yellow lines sprayed on the court and feel the hulky weight of all eyes on me.

“Savannah, sweetheart, will you and your friends move up for me?” A pair of sharp brown eyes latch on to me and I’m taking it that’s Savannah.

“There’s room up there.” She points to a few bleacher spots up with her long hot pink nails. “Better view.”

“That’s fine,” I emit at Torin’s side. “I’ll just?—”

Torin mom-arms me like a child the moment I move and continues to just stare at Savannah.

She tries for a smile instead to sway Pretty Boy. “Torin, you know I like to sit close and watch you play.” She bats her fake eyelashes at him. “You said you’d take me out the next time I came.”

Oh, yeah?

I crane my head to look over at Torin who hasn’t moved an inch. “That sounds nice. Where did you plan on taking the girl?”

“To a special spot I have for bodies if she doesn’t fuckin’ move,” he leers back before Savannah jumps from her spot at the threat.

“You’re being mean,” she huffs then points at him. “The last time we got together, you enjoyed yourself.”

“That’s because you didn’t speak.”

Her nostrils flare as she has a mini-staredown at him. And I kinda feel bad.

“I’m going to go if you don’t stop acting like a dickhead,” I mutter under my breath. “Don’t play fuckboy and not expect her to get upset.”

He leans over, brushing biceps with me, and says, “I didn’t hear what the fuck you said with your whispering all the time, but I do what I want, when I desire, with whoever is at my court.” He straightens his spine and looks at the girl he just dissed. “My court, my rules, my bleachers. Savannah knows that, right?”

She pushes her blushed cheek out with her tongue, clearly pissed, but gives him a curt nod anyway. Shoving her bleached-blonde hair off one shoulder, she sends me a menacing glower, as if this was all my fault, before stomping up a few feet up.

I sigh.

“Now”—the front of my jeans are yanked, and I’m bumping into Torin’s front as he spins to align with me—“I’ve got to go focus on my game. And if you’re not still here by the time it’s over, Wildfire…I’m going to get very mad.”

“Shocker.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Don’t you have someone else to harass or something? Why are you out?—”

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