Take Me On

“What was that?” I demand. “Do you want to get a social worker involved? Like we don’t have enough problems already?”

Jax steps in front of me, causing me to whiplash forward as I halt.

“Get out of the way!” some guy shouts as he walks past us.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” yells Jax. When he’s done staring the guy down, Jax towers over me. “Tell me what happened on Friday.”

“Nothing happened. I fell. The medication rolled out. End of story.”

“Who the hell are you anymore? I mean, there are times I see you. You. Like a few minutes ago in the office. The girl I grew up with. The girl who talked trash. The girl who fought with and for her family. Then you got wrapped up with Matt...”

Reining in his temper, Jax inhales deeply and looks away. “I thought when you broke up with him... Why are you guarding his back? I miss you, Haley. And if you ever see the girl I liked, tell her that for me. Tell her that her family misses her.”

He leaves me there....standing alone in a busy hallway. The scholarship applications crackle in my hand. How do I tell him I’ve been protecting him from Matt and Conner? How do I tell him I’ve been fighting for him this entire time?

West

From across the counter, the secretary slides my schedule to me. “You’ll love it here.”

I nod, then meet her eyes. What would she do if I told her that for the past two nights I’ve parked my car in a remote spot at a local park and slept there, then showered at a truck stop?

Pride kept me from asking anyone for a place to crash. Not my brothers, not my friends, not anyone. They’d give me a place, but I can’t stomach the look of disappointment.

After word spread I was officially expelled from school, I was avalanched in texts and the idea of adding to the sympathy induced dry heaves. I’m West Young, and regardless of the fact that I’ve been disowned from the family and the fortune associated with it, I don’t accept charity...or pity.

The secretary tilts her head. “Are you okay?”

No. I’m not. It’s been cold for the past two nights and I’ve had to run the car every hour to ease the chill. The exhaustion sucks, but it’s the silence that kills me. “I’m good.”

Without waiting to see if she buys my response, I exit the office. I don’t care if I’m going the right way to first period. School...class...normalcy feels unnecessary, a bit insane.

I came to my new school hoping my parents would be here. Saturday I went home, packed some shit, then left, and I’ve stayed gone. Somewhere around three last night, I had the delusion Mom would be worried and Dad would be sorry. That the reason my cell wasn’t burning with texts and calls was because it died Saturday night and I forgot my charger at home. The image looped over and over in my mind that I’d strut into school and they’d be waiting for me—begging me to return home.

If my brothers did call or text, maybe I would have reached out to them by now, but they didn’t. Dad not contacting me is no shock, but for Mom to be AWOL? My gut cramps and I rub the back of my neck as I stalk down the hallway. Guess Dad was right—when it comes to my family, I don’t belong.

The sight of long sandy-brown hair causes me to pause. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I’m seeing one. With wide eyes and a facial expression that mirrors the one she wore when I almost hit her with the Escalade, Haley stands in the middle of the hallway. A backpack slung over her shoulder; a piece of paper clutched in her hand. People give her a wide berth as they walk past, like she’s an island in the middle of rapids.

I’m not shy. Never have been. People, parties, crowds: that’s my thing. But being near Haley again... I found my kryptonite.

Her jeans perfectly fit her hips, a blue cotton shirt molds nicely around her ample curves and she has the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. A guy could get lost in those eyes.

She blinks several times, folds the paper in her hand and turns—heading in the opposite direction of me. Shaking myself back to life, I duck and weave through the crowd in pursuit.

“Haley!”

Right as she walks into the stairwell, she glances over her shoulder with her eyebrows scrunched together. That’s right. I’m calling you. “Haley!”

Our eyes meet and her hand automatically covers her heart. I cut through two girls in order to reach her. One of them yells at me, but I ignore her.

“West?” Haley remembers my name. That’s a bonus.

“Why is it every time I see you, you’re running?”

Her lips move a centimeter. “I wasn’t running.” She hitches her thumb over her shoulder. “I was heading to class.”

I don’t want halfway. I crave a full smile from this girl. “You gotta admit, it was a sweet line.”

Christ, she has an amazing smile. With her eyes shining like that, she could be her own personal fireworks show. “The line sucked. I’m more fond of guys who give me flowers.”

Noted and filed away for future use. “It got your attention.”

“My attention?” Her head tilts as if she remembered something awful—odds are she’s replaying Friday night.

An electrical current slams through me when Haley grabs my arm and drags me into the corner of the stairwell next to the fire extinguisher. Her fingers are cool against my now burning skin.

She lowers her voice. “You’ve had my attention for the past three days. The last time I saw you, you were bleeding on the street with a drug dealer offering to babysit. Do you know how many times I searched the newspaper to see if there was an article about you being dead?”

My shoulders roll back. “Drug dealer?”

Haley releases my wrist and steps back. “Yeah. Abby. Everyone knows she sells drugs. I mean, she’s your friend, right? Please tell me I left you with a friend. Oh, my God, she’s not your friend, is she? Crap. Oh, crap. Are you okay?”

Her eyes dart around, searching for signs of abuse. She’ll find them—the remnants of the two fistfights from Friday. What she doesn’t see is the internal bleeding from my argument with Dad. Haley stretches her hand to touch the yellowish bruise fading on my jaw, then hesitates.

I inhale and revel in Haley’s scent: wildflowers in bloom. The sights and sounds of the world dissipate—well, everything except those gorgeous dark eyes.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Haley drops her hand and I turn my head to breathe in anything that’s not her.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Are you okay? Did those guys hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” She sounds uncertain, so I cross my arms over my chest.

“I’m fine,” she answers again. “Honestly. What are you doing here?”

I ignore her. “What happened after I blacked out? Why did they leave my car?”

“Not important. Tell me, why are you here? To see Abby? For me? This school has a zero tolerance policy on outsiders. If they find you, they’ll call the police.”

“I go to school here now.” From my back pocket, I pull the schedule I picked up a few minutes ago from the office.

“West...” Haley’s level stare has all the makings of a firing squad. “What do you mean ‘now’?”

“I got expelled from my last school.”

“For what?”

“Fighting.” For the first time in my life, guilt heats the back of my neck. Man, she’s got to have a fantastic image of who I am. The problem? She’d be right and the fact that I care is weird.

She tosses her hands in the air. “Of course. Why not? I’m a magnet for you stinking people. Why wouldn’t I be surrounded by more?” Her head falls back and she focuses on the ceiling. “Hey, God? It’s me, Haley. Not funny.”

“What?”

“Okay. All right. This can be managed. It can. I can manage this. This is entirely under my control. I can own this situation.”

“I don’t need to be managed.”

Haley tosses me an are-you-for-real gaze and her hair tumbles over her shoulder. It’s shiny and I bet if I ran my fingers through it, the strands would feel like silk. I like hair like that. I like kissing girls who have hair like that. My eyes flash to her lips and the memory of her stepping into me on Friday night sizzles in my mind: the walking, talking inferno. Kissing Haley would be a thrill-ride experience.

“West?” Haley motions near her eyes. “Attention here, please?”

“I wasn’t checking out your curves.” Though now that it’s mentioned...

“Go there and I swear to God you’ll have to check ‘other’ when asked if you’re male or female.”

I chuckle and rest my palm against the cool cinder block wall, crowding her. Haley shifts and practically shrinks into the corner. She’s shorter than me, but not by much. I’d say she was afraid, but the way she studies my biceps tells me differently.

“Haley?” She refocuses on my face. “Eyes up here please.”

Gaped. Open. Mouth. “Okay, look. Me and you. We’ve got problems.”

I agree. She wants to kiss me. I want her body underneath mine. Nothing a dark room and a bed couldn’t solve. “What are you doing after school?”

“What? No. Don’t tell me. I don’t care. Back to problems. Those guys that jumped us on Friday?”

My hand slips off the wall and I straighten. “Yeah?”

“They go to school here and I’m not exactly their best friend.”

My muscles tighten and I have to work to keep the smirk off my face. Payback is going to be sweet with those bastards. “Do you know where they’re at?”

“Stay away from them. They’re dangerous.”

I don’t give a shit if they play poker with the devil. They took me down. That doesn’t happen, and I won’t let that be the final say—especially since I’ll be spending the next four months in this hellhole.

Haley clutches my arm as if I were about to waltz into a minefield. “No!”

I lean into her—our heads less than an inch apart. The crazy ass bastard’s words echo in my head: I know where to find Haley. “Have they threatened you?”

Her fingernails attempt to dig canyons into my arm. “There are things in my life you can’t understand, okay? I know you meant well on Friday, but to be honest, you screwed everything up, so I’m begging you to listen to me now. Stay away from them, stay away from me and, for the love of God, don’t mention Friday to anyone.”

The warning bell rings. Haley releases me and runs up the stairs. What the hell?

Haley

God hates me. It’s the only explanation when West appears in my first-period class. My best girl friend, possibly my only girl friend, Marissa Long, lowers the book she’s been absorbed in since I sat at our science table.

“Wow” is the word that slips out of her mouth.

Unfortunately, I have to agree. The boy is fantastically pretty, that’s for sure. His golden-blond hair is cut short and is styled. Trendy yet not. Exactly like the rest of him. A combination of dangerous and steaming hot.

He wears jeans, the sexy kind. A bit baggy, not overly. Just enough that his black boxers peek out when he walks. And thanks to the clingy T-shirt, the world knows he’s on-fire ripped in every single delicious way.

I close my eyes and suck in air. Stop it. West is not hot. He’s a fighter. He’s trouble. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt and the associated heartache.

Marissa touches my arm, and, when I open my eyes, I find her camped in my personal space. “He’s staring at you.”

Sure enough, while our Biology II teacher shuffles through the drawers of his desk, West flashes me this glorious smile that causes me to melt into a puddle. Crap. Just crap. I am attracted to him. This isn’t good. Not good at all.

“Do you know him?” Marissa asks.

Yes. “No.” And it’s going to be hard for anyone to believe that answer when he continues to stare at me like he’s seen me with my clothes off. I run a finger around the collar of my shirt, releasing some trapped hot air. If West doesn’t rein it in, he’s going to get us both killed.

“Are you sure?”

I told him to stay out of my way because that’s how West will avoid trouble with Conner and Matt. It’ll be amazing if I can remain unscathed through lunch.

Our teacher motions with his hand for West to take a seat. “Any seat.”

West’s eyes roam to the spot next to me and I grab Marissa’s hand. “Do not leave your seat. Not to sharpen your pencil. Not to use the bathroom. Not to pick up your backpack.”

“Ooookay,” mumbles Marissa and sticks her head back into a book.

West strides down the small space between the tables. I keep my eyes forward, ignoring he exists, ignoring that on Friday he almost pancaked me with his car, that he went kamikaze on Conner and that I had to fight to bail him out of trouble.

I ignore all of that, but more importantly, I ignore how my senses heighten as West pauses next to my table, plants a hand flat on the surface and leans into me. I swear the heat of his body wraps around mine. An extremely tempting musky scent enters my lungs when I inhale. Oh, God, he’s mouthwatering.

Everyone turns and watches because the most beautiful boy to ever step into this school is next to the girl no one but Matt has ever wanted to date.

“Hello, Haley,” he says in this deep voice that curls my toes in that Notebook movie kind of way.

I can’t look at him. I can’t. One, because he’s not supposed to be talking to me. Two, because he’s gorgeous and I’d prefer for West to remain in the dark that I think that. “We have an agreement.”

West chuckles. “You said something. I disagreed. Later, we’ll come to an agreement.”

Mr. Rice asks everyone to settle in, and West continues toward the back, but not before skimming one finger down my shoulder. I let out a rush of air between my lips as goose bumps tingle on my arm from his touch. West does not fight fair.

I return my gaze to the front and my heart slams out of my chest when I meet stone-cold eyes. Matt walks into class at the sound of the bell and there’s no doubt he saw part of the show.

He stalks down the aisle and I wish I could blend into my chair. Without breaking stride, he mumbles as he passes, “We’re talking today.”

My hand presses against my neck as if that will help open my clogged air passage. Whether he wants to talk about West touching me or the fact that Conner may have told him what happened between us or if he just wants to rehash previous fights in our defunct relationship, I don’t know, but as far as I’m concerned, there’s no way I’m talking with Matt—not if I can help it.

West

I drop into a seat at an empty table in the back and a dishwater-blonde slithers into the chair beside me. “You’re West Young,” she says.

“I am.” I edge away from her. The last thing I want is my reputation with girls or my rep with fights following me. Something good should come out of this. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve attended some parties at Brian Miller’s house with my cousin. She goes to Worthington Private.”

Shit. I assess her, praying we haven’t hooked up. I don’t fuck girls. It’s not my thing. I’ve witnessed guys spiral and burn because of an unplanned pregnancy, getting too emotional after the fact or a good ol’ STD. Thanks, but no thanks. I might not be hitting it in that way, but I hit it in other ways and girls appreciate my creativity.

The blonde twists her hair around her finger, makes full-fledged eye contact and sends me an I’ll-go-down-on-you smile—all signs indicating we have had previous carnal knowledge of each other.

“I’m Jessica,” she announces. “I’ve wanted to introduce myself since I saw you at a party a year ago, but by the time I get there, you’re usually a little far gone.”

Thank you, Jesus, for saving me from the why-didn’t-you-call guilt trip.

Our teacher calls the class to order and I open my lone notebook. With twenty bucks in cash to my name, I bought this and a pen, then spent the remainder on gas. Food wasn’t on the priority list this morning, and as my stomach growls, I’m beginning to regret the decision. I haven’t had a decent meal since Thursday night.

I’m terrified to use my credit card and learn it’s been denied. There’s a limit to what my mental stability can handle.

A few tables up, Haley sits curtain-rod straight. Come on, give me something. Anything. I got the hell beaten out of me over her, plus I saw the attraction stirring in her eyes in the stairwell. Hell, the girl flushed the moment I stepped into the room. Look at me. Just look at me.

My pen knocks against the table as it bounces in my hand, then freezes the moment Haley glances over her shoulder. In rabbit-fast movements, she switches her gaze back to the front, but it won’t erase the fact she looked.

Why it’s important to me, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because everything in my life is screwed up and I need to know at least one person cares. Maybe...but who knows? Right now today almost feels doable.

“You know Haley?” The lines cluttering Jessica’s forehead spell jealousy.

What were Haley’s words to me? To stay away? Not happening. “Yeah, do you?”

“She’s a friend of mine.”

Our teacher passes out an outline for an upcoming project and mumbles something about having to leave for a moment to help a class across the hall but being able to see us from there, and that he expects us to watch the documentary he cues up on the SMART Board. With the lights off and the door behind him clicking shut, the class loosens up with low buzzing conversations.

Jessica faces me, props her elbow on the table and rests her head on her hand. “How do you know Haley? From the fights?”

The fights? “Yeah.”

A relieved grin eases onto her face. If I play this right, maybe I can figure Haley out.

“That’s what I thought,” she says. “After she and Matt broke up last summer, she swore she was done with that tough man stuff, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out. Haley’s been a tomboy since kindergarten.”

A tomboy? Are we admiring the same person? Haley’s all curves. She may be in high school, but she’s miles from that in-between stage.

Jessica’s seat scrapes against the floor, creating an earsplitting squeak as she slides closer to me. A chorus of damns fills the room. Most everyone looks back, including Haley. Fuck me. Another girl up in my business is not what I want Haley to see.

“So tell me,” Jessica says in a way that indicates we share secrets. “Is she fighting again? I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Meaning she won’t tell anyone until she leaves class.

With her head lying on an outstretched arm on the table, Haley’s pen moves in circles. She’s a doodler, like my brother Ethan. When he’s trying to clear his head, to think things through, he scratches away on any paper he can find.

Haley’s shorter than me. Tall for a girl, yet not. And very, very feminine. Jessica has to be joking. There’s no way Haley’s a fighter. “I haven’t seen her fight.”

“Oh. Well. Then you must have seen her cousin and brother fight, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Haley and her family are fighters. I roll the words around in my head as if taste-testing them. It feels off, but then I think of how she challenged me the other night when I almost hit her with my car.

Haley’s a fighter. Interesting. Like the info on the flowers, it’s duly noted and filed away for future use. What other secrets are you hiding, Haley? “Who’s this Matt guy you mentioned earlier?”

“That is Matt.” Jessica points to the large son of a bitch at the table behind Haley. His dark hair is shaved close to his scalp and his ears are a bit deformed. I’ve seen the full-blown deformity before on pay-per-view, though it was a much more intense version. Cauliflower ears. It’s what happens after a fighter gets hit too much and the cartilage doesn’t heal correctly.

What’s important is how the guy watches Haley, his eyes memorizing her every move. Has Haley informed him of their breakup or is he pining? “What’s up with the two of them?”

“They got together our sophomore year and split a week after Haley moved into the homeless shelter this past summer. I have no doubt Matt will win her back, though. He’s crazy obsessed with her.”

“What?” My head snaps in Jessica’s direction and my heart pounds as I wonder if I heard her correctly. She said Haley, right? Not me. But then the wonder turns to dread. Haley can’t be living at a place like that.

“That Matt’s crazy obsessed? It’s not in a weird way, well, it is, but it’s like romantic, you know—”

“Not that,” I cut her off. “The homeless part.”

She presses a hand over her mouth. “Oops. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t tell Haley I told you. She’d be mortified.”

“I won’t.” But what she should be mortified about is that she spilled. Minus the fake hand over her mouth, Jessica wears smug well. At my old school, girls conducted war and annihilated opponents using words. That “slipup” was meant as an execution shot to Haley’s head.

“Good.” She surveys Haley as if she grew a conscience, but then abandons it as she lowers her voice. “Haley’s dad was laid off over a year ago and they lost everything. It’s been rough for her, but we’ve all tried to rally around her. You know, be good friends.”

I’d rather drink arsenic than enjoy a friendship like Jessica’s. “Does she still live at the shelter?”

She shakes her head. “They moved in with her cousin’s family. Seriously, don’t tell her I told you. She’s sort of private.” Finally Jessica’s cheeks flare. Maybe she’s slightly redeemable.

“Tell you what, if you keep it a secret I’m a Young, I’ll keep my mouth shut about Haley.” I’ve got no problem with blackmail. The last name Young is common enough. Hopefully no one will associate me with the richest family in town.

“Why wouldn’t you want anyone to know you’re a Young? Oh, my God, I’d spray-paint it in the sky.”

“I don’t, all right?”

“Okay,” she says.

The door to the room opens and conversation ceases. I relax in my chair, stretch my legs under the table and cross my arms over my chest. When I glance over at Haley again, she’s still resting her head on her arm, but this time I’m met by those gorgeous dark eyes.

Unexpectedly, she holds the gaze. One second. Two. Turning into three. Did she overhear my conversation with Jessica?

Haley breaks our connection and focuses on the movie playing up front. My mind bounces with the new information and it only piques my curiosity.

Haley

I’ve successfully avoided Matt since this morning and I’m betting that the refuge of the cafeteria will save me from him for at least twenty more minutes. There’s no way he’ll corner me in front of Jax, Kaden and the other fighters from my grandfather’s gym, right? I mean, no one’s that bold.

I bite my lip, starting to rethink my plan. While I don’t think Matt will, Conner might. His judgment has been off since he started using drugs.

Annoyingly enough, the buzz at my lunch table is the new boy at school, West. I stab at the pizza on my plate. The boy could be the death of me. Literally. West...the gorgeous, full of himself, infuriating, not-listening knight in shining armor is in three of my classes and there are two more periods to go before the final bell rings. I’m willing to bet money I don’t have he’s going to be in those, too.

West.

West, West, West. Last name Young. And right now, as he struts into the cafeteria, he releases that blazing, agitating grin.

“Check out the new boy.” Jessica drools from across the lunch table. “He’s definitely a walking piece of art.”

“With arms like that,” says another girl, “it makes you wonder what he looks like with his shirt off.”

Yes, it does.

Several other girls verbalize their agreement and I focus on my uneaten tray of food. My freshman year, I used to sit with Kaden and the other guys from the gym at lunch. I stupidly fell for Matt my sophomore year and ended up sitting with him and the guys from Black Fire. I was forced to find a new lunch table when things between Matt and me exploded like a hydrogen bomb.

Up until that point, I had never done girl before. It’s not bad if you don’t mind strolling in a field of unmarked land mines.