Page 19 of Flipping the Script

“Isn’t it? Look at you.” His expression was dark and ugly. “You were literally born on third base. Star student. Superstar athlete. Mr. Popular with a crowd of admirers following you around and applauding your every move.” He slow-clapped, a wide, slightly deranged smile splitting his lips. “Is this what you need? Some validation to go with your ego?”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” I forced each word out, my vision narrowing even more.

“No.” He stopped clapping and stepped closer.

“Back off,” I warned, my head pounding as bloodwhooshedthrough my veins.

He stepped closer. Now only a foot separated us. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?” he challenged.

“Take one more step and find out,” I warned again, my voice shaking.

With a smirk, he closed the distance between us, stopping when our toes were nearly touching. He was so close our chests would have brushed if either of us had taken a deep breath.

“Figures,” he huffed out a laugh, that stupid smirk still on his stupid face. “I knew you didn’t have it in you.”

“Back the fuck up.” My hands shook with adrenaline.

God, I wanted to fuck him up. Wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face and mess up his unflappable demeanor.

I wanted to bury my hands in his hair and tear at his clothes. Destroy his perfect facade and make him feel as out of control as he made me feel.

“Or what?” He leaned closer, his face only inches from mine.

Red seeped into my vision, obscuring his smirking face.

His laugh penetrated my haze, and the last of my control snapped.

I wasn’t even aware that I’d shoved him until he was stumbling backward, his arms windmilling as he fought to stay on his feet.

“Feel better?” He caught his balance and stood up straight, an eerie grin tilting his lips.

“Fuck you.” I balled my hands into fists but kept them at my side.

I shouldn’t have put my hands on him like that, but he didn’t seem all that put off by it as he continued to grin at me like the Joker.

“I thought we already talked about this. Later. When I’m alone.” He leered, his eyes flashing with something that could have been heat.

“Keep fucking with me,” I bit out. “I dare you.”

“Do you double dog dare me?” He got right up in my face, so close I could smell apples and something spicy, like peppermint.

“Do you want me to fuck you up?” I demanded.

“Do you want to fuck me up?” he asked innocently.

“Trust me when I say you don’t want that.”

He laughed, and I saw red.

This time, I was fully aware as I planted my hands on his chest and shoved, but instead of sending him flying, I held onto his shirt and walked him backward, forcing him to stumble along until his back hit one of the pillars holding up the porch roof.

He laughed again, his eyes glittering with amusement, and grabbed my wrists. “Feel better?”

Just for good measure, I slammed him against the pillar hard enough his breath came out in a littlewhoosh.

“It’s almost like you want me to put hands on you.” I crowded him against it, our bodies flush and our faces so close his features blended together.

“Maybe you’re the one who wants to put hands on me,” he said, wheezing slightly under my weight.

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