Page 88 of Bad Boy
“Okay. Well, then, is this you asking me for my blessing?”
He barks out a loud laugh. “Yeah, kid. I guess you could say that. So what’ll it be?”
“Like I said, you’re a good guy. And she’s never had that. So, if you treat her right and take care of her, you more than have my blessing. Even if it might be a little weird when I start seeing you at the breakfast table Sunday mornings.”
He belts out another deep chuckle and slings his massive arm around my shoulder, putting me in a half-hug, half-headlock embrace. “You’re something else, kid.”
“Something else spectacular,” I grin, slipping out of his hold and grabbing his wrist. I twist his arm, pinning it behind his back, forcing him to bend forward and submit. I know he could take me if he really wanted to, but probably not now that he’s trying to bang my mom.
Some of the guys around the gym cheer and yell, attempting to egg us on.
“Alright. Alright. You got me. I’m tapping out, kid.”
I shove him away, laughing. “Lame.”
He straightens and chuckles at that, shaking his head.
I narrow my eyes on him. “What? You don’t think I could take you?”
Before he can answer, my phone buzzes twice in my back pocket. I freeze, slipping it out on autopilot. It’s gotten to the point where Ihaveto look now. I can’tnotlook. I went from actively avoiding the messages, and even my phone, to needing to know what they say immediately. In case he’s outside my house or some shit.
See you this weekend.
Don’t make any plans.
My throat dries out, making a weird clicking noise as I try to swallow. I can feel the blood drain from my face.
“Remi. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help you.” Otto’s low, urgent tone tears me away from my screen.
“What are you talking about? It’s fine. Just spam.”
My phone vibrates again.
I can’t understand how Unknownis getting past all of my blocks. Does this psycho get a new phone each time he texts? Or is he stealing them?
What the fuck is even happening?
This fucker isterrorizingme.
My palms are sweaty, and I nearly drop my phone, fumbling it so badly that Otto grabs it out of the air before it smashes onto the unforgiving ground.
I snatch it out of his hand, not wanting him to get a glimpse of the threatening texts. “Thanks, man.”
My eyes glance down, unable to stop myself.
How are you enjoying that big house on the hill?
Fuck! These psychological games are bullshit. I got enough of that from my old man growing up; I don’t need it from this unknown asshole.
Otto side-eyes me and purses his lips. I know he wants to say more, but I’m not willing to involve him or my mom just yet. I can handle this. I hope.
“I’m ready to punch something now,” I say instead, heading over to Lincoln sitting alone, quiet and reserved. He’s reading through our English homework, munching on Sasha’s oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, looking adorably sexy.
“Ready to watch me kick some ass, Preppy?” I grin down at him as he peers up at me with chipmunk cheeks that turn pink.
* * *
Before we finished at the gym, Linc wanted Otto and me to show him some basic self-defense moves. Nothing intense—no punches, just a few easy blocks and basic escape maneuvers. He seemed to enjoy it and is open to the possibility of training. So I’m hoping he'll try a little more each day. But it’s still his choice.
