Page 24 of Wrecked Rose

I grind my teeth.Fuck.I didn’t mean to pick a damn fight. With a sigh, I push through the door to the office, seriously regretting that entire conversation.

Five minutes later, I discover that what I think is going to be the easiest part of my day has turned into the most difficult. I’m busy filing things for Mrs. Purcell, one of the guidance counselors, when my phone chimes with a message from the OUTspoken app.

Sam:I think I’ve got a real problem.

Max:Your dad again?

Sam:Nope. A guy here at school.

Sam:And … damn, this is embarrassing, but—

Max:No judgment zone.

Sam:I guess I was daydreaming a bit in study hall.

I sit up, paying more attention. Griff is also in study hall right now, as are several of my friends… and their boyfriends—do I call my friends’ boyfriends my friends? I don’t even fucking know. I’m friendly with them, I guess.Gah.I shake myself free of my squirrel-like thoughts and focus on Sam’s messages.

Sam:I must have been staring or something.

Sam:All of a sudden, I had someone breathing down my neck, telling me to keep my faggot eyes on my notebook.

Sam:The hilarious thing is, I’m not even sure who I was looking at to know who not to look at next week.

Max:Harmless. Whoever it was is being a dick.

Sam:I didn’t turn around, but he was a big dude. Probably a junior or senior.

Max:So sorry, man.

Max:Anything I can do?

Sam:Nah. I guess I figured someone should know about it.

Sam:You know… just in case.

I close my eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. Damn. Poor guy. He shouldn’t have to be afraid because someone is obviously a close-minded ass. Why can’t people leave well enough alone?

Max:Yeah. I get it. Here if you need me.

Chapter 17

Griff

Two hours after school lets out—and my buddy Mitch’s wrestling practice is over—I meet him, Callum, and Jack at the indoor batting cages. We’re all on the baseball team, so this is something we do quite a lot, especially off-season, just to keep our swings feeling natural.

Of course, if we’re not talking sports—either one we’re playing or something we’re watching—it’s usually girls. Conversation can devolve pretty quickly once we get going. And the talk can get pretty interesting. Actually, raunchy is more like it. We’ve shared who we’ve hooked up with, how many times we manage to make them come, which girls have odd kinks, who’s a squirter… nothing is off the table. And it seems like guys are always trying to one-up each other—well, they are, anyway. I don’t generally give a flying fuck, but it makes for some pretty filthy conversations.

Thank goodness there are only four batting cages in this rinky-dink place, so when we reserve times to get some practice in, we’re literally the only ones here. Otherwise, I’d have to tell these jokers to shut up with their foul mouths. None of our conversations are suitable for anyone else’s ears.

“What would you say is the weirdest place you’ve ever fucked?” Callum hollers from his cage. “Mine’s up against a tree at the last bonfire. That chick had scrapes all over her back from the tree bark. But I swear, she treated them like badges of honor.”

Case in point. I groan internally. “Dude, are we really doing this?” I slam the hell out of the ball the pitching machine fires at me.

Jack lets loose with a guffaw. “Why not? Maybe it’ll give me some new ideas. Who was it?”

“Don’t even fucking remember, man. I was wasted.” Callum swings and slams a ball back to the other end of the batting cage.

“You dog.” Jack laughs heartily. “I think my weirdest was fucking Heather Jennings on Mr. Harrigan’s desk while he was at lunch.”

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