Take Me On

Chapter 58

West

I stare at the report card I received in first period. No matter how many times I unfold it, the letters never alter: solid Bs. The smile, once again, spreads across my face regardless of the anger that’s been simmering inside me since Saturday night.

The bell rings for lunch and Haley stands. She tosses her light brown hair over her shoulder and, for a few seconds, I’m back in bed with her and I swear I feel that silky hair sliding against my bare chest.

“You’re going to rub the ink off. Then no one’s going to believe you,” she says.

I refold the paper and slip it into my notebook. Haley’s met my demons, grades included, and loves me anyhow. Her arm swings next to mine as we maneuver through the crowded hallway to lunch. I enjoy the satisfied tilt of her lips when my hand connects with hers. It’s Monday. Saturday night changed everything for us—it made us better, made us stronger.

“It’s amazing what happens when you study,” she teases again.

“Or attend class.” This afternoon I’m nailing my report card to the door of Dad’s office.

“I was thinking we should skip lunch today.” Haley flutters her eyelashes and her sexy expression almost blows me off course. Almost.

“I’m hungry.”

She squishes her lips together. “I’ve got some pretzels in my backpack.”

“I’m really hungry.”

Haley stops dead at the entrance of the cafeteria and her grasp tightens. Hoping she’d continue, I walk forward until my arm completely stretches behind me. When I turn, Haley’s lost the cuteness. “Don’t do it, West.”

“Do what?” We both know that in the cafeteria I’m going after Matt hard and fast.

The second I dropped Haley off at the corner near her uncle’s house on Saturday, because we can’t be seen together since his ultimatum, I’ve thought about this moment. The anger has built and stewed and I’m damn ready for it to boil over. Haley won’t give me details, but Matt hit her and I’m done with everyone acting like she’s roadkill, her family included.

“Remember what I said about you leading with your emotions,” she says.

“Yes.”

“Well, this is you doing it.”

“Haley, this is premeditation at its best.”

“It’s not how long you think about it—it’s the emotion. Anger is going to get you nowhere. I take that back. Anger is going to get you killed.” Haley glances around the cafeteria. Sensing the anger pulsating from me, people watch us like bottleneckers with a car wreck.

“I can stop you,” she says simply.

I look deep into her dark eyes and shake my head. “You wouldn’t humiliate me like that.”

“This is insane,” she hisses. “You’ll be lucky to get one punch in before the security guards take you down and the two of you get kicked out of school. Zero tolerance policy, remember? Doesn’t matter who hits first—you both get suspended.”

A wildness inside me creates a grin on my face. “I have a plan.”

“Ah, hell, really?” Haley tosses her backpack to the ground like she’s throwing in the towel. Matt’s gym rules: he can’t train for a week if he gets suspended for fighting at school. “When will you get it through your thick skull that I’m not worth fighting over?”

“Yes, you are. And you know this won’t go to blows. The real fight will be in a few weeks in that cage.”

Haley shifts into shock mode with her paled-out face. “No, West. Don’t you dare challenge him. You have a better chance against Conner.”

“I don’t want to fight Conner. I want Matt and I want him suspended from his gym.”

“You have a decent shot of standing after three rounds with Conner, but you’re going to make it emotional by going after Matt. How are you going to keep your head on the game plan in the cage when Matt rattles you? When he calls me names? When he calls me a slut?”

The bastard will be dead if he goes there. “I’ll be fine.”

“When are you going to learn? This isn’t a tough man contest where guys beat their chest, then sees who hits harder. This is the ultimate chess match. Yeah, you’ve got to be strong and have skills, but a lot of times the smarter guy wins.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. Matt’s a moron.”

“He’s trained—a machine—and that’s what I need you to be. No emotion. When I yell at you to watch for something or to do a certain combo, I need you to do it. You have to be focused and search for those open moments. Not pissed off and looking for vengeance because if you lead with your emotions, you won’t find vengeance. You’ll find your ass handed to you.”

“All noted,” I say. “Are we done, because I’ve got a fight to start.”

“When are you going to stop acting on every impulse? It’s going to get you killed.”

“I’ll stop.” I clutch her hand and she tries to yank it back, too pissed at me to let me touch. I flash her a grin and she rolls her eyes, annoyed I can easily disarm her. I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss her fingers. “After I settle this with him.”

“You’re like loving someone sentenced to death row.”

“But you love me.” I drop her hand and stalk to the corner. Matt places his tray at a spot at the end of the table and laughs as he says something to his friends. His low-life little brother, Conner, sits at his left-hand side. No more game playing. It’s time we call this fight what it is: a war.

Matt’s head snaps up as my fingers grip his tray and I push it off the table. The tray, a plastic plate, two bowls and a carton of milk clank and bang to the floor. Food splatters everywhere.

“My bad,” I say. “I must have tripped.”

“He’s mine alone.” Matt jumps to his feet as well as the rest of his crew, but before Matt can gain traction, I grab his collar and slam him into the wall. “If you look at Haley again, talk to Haley again or touch Haley again, I’ll kill you. You want to hit someone, you’re hitting me. Got it?”

A shadow darkens his features and he knows I know. Matt’s fist flies for my face and my guard goes up and I block the blow. My jab immediately retaliates. Purple shirts are everywhere as the school’s security guards pummel us.

Matt lunges for me. “You’re fucking dead, Young!”

“Bring it!”

He points as the security guards pull him back. “It’s you and me in the cage. You and me!”

I relax so the security guards ease up on their manhandling. Mission accomplished.