Page 46 of Quiet Rage
It’s tricky, though, and I can’t pretend that isn’t. “Even after all the things that were said about me around school? Would they really want to hang out with me?”
“Please,” she scoffs. “Everybody knows Tiana was behind that crap. Nobody really believes anything she says.”
They sure seemed to believe it at first, but then she’s not talking about the whole school, either. Just certain people who take pleasure in mocking and bullying. “Well, I would like to meet them,” I decide. It takes some courage. I’m still tender, hesitant. But the longer we sit here like this, the easier it is to believe life doesn’t always have to be so bleak.
We are well into our pancakes, with a plate of bacon between us to share, when somebody comes to a stop next to our table. Two somebodies who look a lot alike. Their identical scowls make me go cold.
“What are you doing here?” one of them demands of Emma. I don’t know the difference between them yet. He’s got longer hair than his brother, but that’s the only big difference I recognize after five seconds of being this close to them.
Great. And there I was, holding onto hope. Don’t I know better by now? The syrup-soaked pancakes go sour in my mouth, but I force myself to swallow, prepared for their cold, cruel treatment.
“Do you know what happens in this neighborhood?” the other twin asks. It doesn’t seem to matter that I'm sitting right here. They only have eyes for her.
Emma sets down her utensils and wipes her mouth on her napkin before giving them both a puzzled look. “How did you even know it was here?”
“Your location is turned on in your phone.” The one standing closer to me finally looks my way. “Hey,” he growls.
Okay. So he didn’t say anything mean…yet.
“We’re just having lunch,” she explains, shrugging. “Well, breakfast for lunch, but same difference.”
The one standing closer to her rubs his hand over the back of his neck before exchanging a look with his twin. “It’s just…no offense,” he murmurs, looking at me. “But if you want to come into a neighborhood like this, at least have one of us with you. If not both of us. It’s a little unsafe.”
So that’s the problem. My chest loosens along with my throat as understanding sinks in. It’s not that she’s here with me. It’s that they don’t like the area and want to protect her.
It’s actually kind of sweet. They care so much about her, they came running when they saw where she was. Now, they both snag a piece of bacon and consider grabbing a booth of their own.
It must be nice, having protectors like the two of them. I haven’t had one since Jason died.
I wonder if I ever will again.
Chapter 21
Kellen
The soundof the shower running isn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds in my head. Her sighs, her moans. I close my eyes and tip my head back to let the water run over my face, reliving every moment of having her on the bed, miles away from reality.
I almost hate washing her off my skin. Driving home, she clung to me. I could smell her every time I moved. Whenever I did, I could clearly remember the weight of her head on my shoulder. The warmth of her limp, trusting body draped across mine. I can almost feel it now.
I’m more sure than ever of what I knew from the second my eyes opened. I’m going to need that again.
No surprise. That’s how it’s always been when it comes to her. Every new level we hit only unlocks a new level beyond it. What would it be like to wake up with her every morning? To fall into bed and go to sleep with her every night? Things felt surprisingly natural back at her house—too natural, almost. Like we have been doing this for a long time. I can see myself kissing her goodbye every morning. The thought makes me smile to myself as I finish rinsing off.
When was the last time I randomly smiled to myself? When was the last time I woke up next to a girl? That one’s easy: never. Not before today. You don’t spend the whole night with a prostitute. They tend to leave as soon as you’re finished your business.
There isn’t much that could spoil this morning. But of course, I can’t get away without being reminded of all the shit life has heaped on me, like the universe wants to smack me down.
Dad is on his way in as I’m on my way out. “There you are,” he almost shouts, grinning from ear to ear. From the looks of it, he could just be getting home now after spending the night out—he’s unshaven, bleary-eyed.
What a shame we don’t have the kind of relationship where I want to know where he’s been. I probably don’t want to know the answer.
The hand he claps on my shoulder squeezes hard. “Great work. I knew you would come through for me.”
My skin is crawling. Is there anything worse than receiving praise for something I have no right to be proud of?
“I don’t know why she thought she belonged there anyway,” he continues, giving my shoulder a shake. I’ve seen him act this way so many times, heaping praise on so many people. Does he mean it, or is it all for show, the way it usually is? “She’s nobody. She’s nothing. You made sure she remembered that, and I won’t forget it. You have what it takes.”
I guess some guys would feel proud, getting praise like that from their dad. Maybe they would feel like they deserve it. I don’t find it too easy to accept praise and gratitude over hurting someone who deserves it less than pretty much anybody else in the world.The thicker he lays it on, the more I feel myself shrink inside. He’s trying to pump me up, but he’s only making me feel smaller.
