Page 67 of Bad Boy
“Yeah, between rounds. Give me some water, and maybe tell me if you notice anything that could help me win.” I cover my mouth with my hand for my next request, funneling my teasing words directly into his ear. “A kiss and a shoulder rub would be nice, too.” I pull back, laughing at his wide-eyed look. “Just fucking with you, Preppy.”
I back up a few steps to finish my warm-up. Without Hydro, I do the best I can, bobbing and weaving to loosen my muscles while I throw jabs and uppercuts into thin air. I focus on my breathing; keeping it even is the key to not gassing out too quickly.
Linc watches me with a hooded stare as I practice my stance and defense styles.
My black jeans are soft and skin-tight. Easy to maneuver in. And while the rips that run up the front of both legs let my pale skin show through, more importantly, they allow for airflow and movement. We’ll also go bare feet—MMA-style. We’re free to kick, punch, and wrestle. And I plan to utilize all of it when I beat his ass.
Gus comes slinking through the crowd of swaying bodies lost to the music. He goes to the DJ area, which is just a guy with his laptop and some big ass speakers on stands. The music cuts out, and the mic screeches loudly when Gus tries to speak. We all cover our ears while the DJ makes an adjustment.
Gus taps the mic with a muffled thump. “Alright, alright. Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we have two Blue Ridge Prep boys here to settle a personal beef. Wager is one thousand dollars for the fighters. All bets are closed, and payouts will be sent via our secure app after calculations are made.”
They have an app? For bets?
Fucking rich kids.
Really fucking smart, though. And safe. No cash to worry about if we gotta run.
Good thing I didn’t bring any. Not that I have a thousand dollars lying around anyway. But I know I’ll win; there’s no question about it. Thankfully, only the loser has to cough up the funds.
Gus does his ring announcer routine, introducing me to the crowd of rowdy, drunk teenagers as Ruthless Remi. I glance at Lincoln to catch his reaction, but he’s chewing on his lip, arms folded tightly across his abdomen.
I know him well enough by now to know that he’s worried. About me.
All I can do is show him how ruthless I really am and end this fight quickly so we can go home and crawl into bed together.
As soon as Gus shouts, “Fight!” Connor and I circle each other in the middle of the barn. Dry hay crunches under my bare feet, and the strobe lights flash, bringing Connor in and out of focus as he approaches me slowly. It’s trippy as fuck, and I’m not even high. His bright blond hair flashes, and the evil glint in his eyes has me narrowing my own.
My number one rule is always strike first, so I surge forward with a quick jab. He dodges enough that my fist grazes his face. But it’s right where I hit him earlier, and he grunts at the impact.
Knowing I’ve found my target, I don’t even give him a moment to regroup before I hit him with a fierce uppercut to the jaw. He staggers back a few steps, his bare feet kicking up hay and dust.
He regains his footing and spits out a mouthful of blood, twisting his lips into a wicked facsimile of a smile. Then he says something completely unexpected, and I’m too stunned to use the moment to my advantage.
Without taking his eyes off me, he shouts, “Hey, Lincoln! How was that strawberry milk? I hope you didn’t give my delivery service a thumbs down on Uber Eats, bro!” He laughs maniacally, completely unhinged and out of control, blood dripping off his chin and onto his bare chest.
He. . . He just admitted to. . . I can’t think. Can’t process the words that just came out of his vile mouth.
He nearly killed Lincoln, and now I’m going to make himsuffer.
Rage burns through my veins like acid, and a savage bellow pours from my lips as I dive for him. He’s caught off guard, and I take him to the ground, landing with my full weight on top of him. His head bounces off the hard ground, dazing him for a second.
I repeatedly slam my fist into his face while he attempts to block me. He’s pathetic, really, but I’m fucked in the head, so I’ll drown in his screams and bathe in his blood.
I will fuck him up for what he did to Lincoln.
I want this to hurt. Not just physically. His pride needs to take a beating, too. He thinks he can humiliate Lincoln, so I plan to do the exact same in return. And he just served himself on a silver platter.
I stand above his moaning body. One leg on each side as I peer down at his bloody face. “I already told your little friend Brandon, but I guess he failed to pass the message along. But stay the fuck away from Lincoln. Or I won’t stop next time. This is your final fucking warning.”
I step over him, and he crawls to his knees, attempting to stand for round two.
I don’t fucking think so.
This next one’s for his ego.
I kick out, catching him in the gut. He falls back to his ass with a grunt. “Stay down. Before you don’t have a choice,” I say behind clenched teeth.
I raise my voice for this next part, so everyone can hear. “That’s two days now that I’ve whooped his sorry ass!” I holler. “Gus! Come get your boy before I do something to ruin your football season!”
