Page 72 of Bad Boy
Me: I’ll be there.
Preppy: Thanks. Did you ice your hands?
I glance down at my swollen knuckles, already knowing the answer to that question.
Me: Aw worried as always.
Me: I haven’t but I will.
Preppy: Okay see you tomorrow.
Me: See ya.
There’s so much more I wish I could say in these texts. The urge to be more than just friends rides me hard. I didn’t think I’d be so emotionally affected by letting him fuck me. But if I’m being completely honest, it was more than just fucking.
I scrub my hands roughly down my face, not used to this many emotions. I tend to brush shit off with humor or lash out with anger. But I’ve never been more serious in my entire fucking life than when I think about Lincoln.
I grab some bubble gum from my nightstand and shove a couple of pieces into my mouth, chewing harshly.
Backing out of our text thread, I spy a few more I missed while at the cabin. And I realize I completely forgot about Otto texting me that first night.
Shit.
I go to open his messages, but my eyes snag on another thread. From Unknown.My blood turns to ice. Frozen slush slows my pulse until I can hear each and every heartbeat slowly thumping in my chest.
My thumb hovers, unsure if I even want to know.
Tap.
A slew of angry texts.
Threats. Demands.
But there’s still no real clue as to who the fuck this is and why they think they deservemymoney. Myfamilymoney.
Goddamnit. I need a cigarette.
I grab my pack and head downstairs. Mom hates it when I smoke. Lincoln hates it when I smoke. And fuck, I hate it too. But the stress of everything is becoming too much.
“Baby! You’re home! How was your trip?” Mom’s excitement fades when she sees me storming down the hall. Her eyes track over the black eye, swollen knuckles, and pack of cigarettes in my hand. She doesn’t miss a beat.
“Remington Jace! What on earth happened?!”
“Nothing Ma, really.” I use the excuse I told Dr. Benson. “You can call my teacher if you want. But one of my classmates nearly fell off a cliff, and I literally saved his life. Okay?”
Dramatic lies. I know.
“Can I please just go have a smoke before dinner? Just one. It’s been days since my last. Promise.”
She huffs but agrees, running to grab me a bag of frozen peas from the kitchen. She’s used to dealing with these types of injuries.
“Ice one of them. Then I’ll get you a new bag for the other hand while you eat dinner.” She purses her lips, eyeing me with disdain. “I’m no fool, Remington. I know what a fight looks like. God knows you’ve been in plenty. I just hope you don’t end up where you did last time. Because honey, youareeighteen now. And there’s nothing I could do to help you this time.”
I grit my teeth and take the peas from her. “Like I said. I really did save someone from falling off the mountain. It just looks bad. I’m fine. Really, Mom. Thanks for the peas.” I hold them up in silent cheers.
With a dispirited sigh and a half-hearted smile, Mom says, “Everyone’s in the dining room. Come in when you’re done.”
Everyone?
