Page 45 of Collided

“You’re fucking delusional.” I avoid his stareandhis presence.

“The only one delusional here isyou.Why can’t you just admit you have a thing for Hope?”

“I don’t. I just helped her because Marie and you are too lost in your own world to notice anyone else.”

He points a finger at me. “Take that back. It’s not true.”

“You left us,” I deadpan.

“Maybe it was intentional.”

“No one asked you to play matchmaker.”

Sebastian sighs and picks up the water bottle and downs half of it. He fought before me and won the match but gained a gnash on his forehead and a split lip. Marie will scold him. The thought amuses me. He is more muscular than me, and people get intimidated by him quite easily. However, it’s a sight when Marie is scolding him, and he’s looking at the ground and watching ants. She hates it when he gets hurt or drinks—something he’s given up on since last year.

“We’re not playing anything.You’re the one who decides to spend time with her. Like tonight when Mare offered to skate with heryoustepped in. And when Hope sat in the booth,yousat next to her.”

Denial tastes like poison in my mouth. I chug down some Gatorade.

“I don’tcare about her.” If I say it enough, he’ll believe me.I will, too

“Then I guess you won’t mind if I give Tyler her phone number. He asked me for it at school.”

Pure rage flows through my veins. Without thinking I pin Sebastian to the nearest wall.

I get into his face and snarl. “Don’t you fucking dare, Sebastian.”

Instead of pushing me off, he smiles.

I quickly step back in shock.

“Don’tcareabout her? You’re such a fucking liar.” He strides out of the room when I stop him.

“If you give him her number I’ll destroy him.”

“You know I won’t do that.” He looks back at me.

“I’m just telling you.” I pick up my towel and wipe the sweat off my neck.

“You know me, Heath. I’ve got your back and your girl’s.”

I throw the Gatorade bottle at him, but the fucker escapes before it can hit him.

Left jab. Right jab. Right Uppercut.

My opponent falls to the ground. The referee whistles and announces my win. Men chant in excitement of my victory and the prospect of winning the bets they placed on me.

Yanking my hand away, I hurry to the back room. Getting my gym bag, I change into black trousers and a T-shirt. Ryan, the manager, comes in with a thick wad of cash.

“You were good, kid.” He hands me the money. Without counting the bills, I throw them in my bag and turn to leave when he steps in my way. “Mr. Wild wants to talk to you.”

Warning bells ring in my head. He’s a mobster and a drug dealer with a vast network of suppliers everywhere. He makes millions of dollars every month and has a frightening reputation.

“Tell him I said no.” There’s no way I’m meeting that man. I’m reckless, angry, and rude, but I’m not a fucking idiot.

I side-step him but Ryan holds my arm to stop me.

I glare. “Let go of me.”

---