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  I think it’s time to do just that.

  When the final bell rings, I grab my things quickly, but hold back until the hallway clears. I’d prefer to be the first one out the doors, but I also like to avoid any unnecessary socialization. I know that this job is my first step to independence that I’ve craved for so long. I should enjoy it more than I do. Art is a big part of my life and sharing with others should bring me happiness, but my time with Malcolm has forced me into solitude and it’s what I’ve grown accustomed to. Working with others, or even just talking to people in general, is a skill that I need to work on.

  I’ve never been given the opportunity to be independent. Even growing up, Dad wouldn’t let me work because school was far too important, and God forbid, if my GPA took a slide down from a 4.0. Not that he was ever there to guide me much. Mom was. She was always cheering me on and supporting my dreams from behind closed doors. Which is exactly where Dad forced her opinions to stay. She was inferior to him, or so he thought. She was simply his doormat. When she passed away, I don’t even think he truly cared. He showed the emotions, but I never believed he felt them. Being an only child and him having an exponential need for control, I took Mom’s place as his stepping stone. Until, I left and never looked back. I made a promise to myself that I would never allow a man to control me the way my father did her. I broke that promise less than six months later. I was only eighteen years old, so what the hell did I know? When a gorgeous man with a jawline as sharp as an ice sculpture offers you the world and his heart in one breath, you take it. Little did I know, it came with a high price. One that I could never afford to give.

  My life.

  So, here I am broke and broken—but, independent. At least I’ve got that going for me.

  When the classroom empties, I throw a stack of papers inside my oversized black bag and shuffle across the room to hit the lights. I stand at the door for a moment to give the students a chance to clear the hallway. I watch out the small glass panel of the cracked open door and see Knox Burton standing around with a few of his friends. Axel begins to unravel the white bandage that he has on, and I gasp when I see his bruised and battered knuckles.

  “It’s going down this weekend.” Axel nods with a smirk, staring down at his hand, as if he’s pleased with himself. “Two weeks, though. That’s when the real fun begins. Those fuckers will never know what hit them when Knox steps in the cage.”

  I assume they are talking about fighting, and I’m not surprised, nor do I care.

  “I still don’t know about this.” Knox inhales deeply, raking his fingers through his golden blonde hair.

  “You.need.to.chill.” Axel slaps his back with his good hand, “You’ve got this. You’ve been training for months. Shane wouldn’t put you in if he didn’t think you were ready. Unless..” he pauses, “Unless you’re scared.”

  “I’m not fucking scared,” Knox spits. “I just like this pretty face too much to fuck it up.” He brushes his hand against his cheek. “I also like the idea of graduating high school and going to UCLA. The last thing I need is a record for illegal…”

  Just as I begin to move away from the door, my stupid ass kicks it, causing it to latch. All eyes shoot to me as I make a quick attempt to hide, by slamming my back against the classroom wall.

  I don’t even know why the hell I’m hiding.

  Why am I hiding?

  They’re just kids.

  I hear footsteps coming closer and swallow hard when I watch the handle turn. The door pushes open. I spread open my bag and pretend that I’m searching for something. I pull out my keys and look up when Axel’s eyes meet mine.

  “Everything ok?” he asks, with his head cocked to the side. A devious grin on his face.

  I take Axel to be the leader of their group. He’s loud, he’s defiant, and he’s always cracking jokes at the expense of other students. His sleek crow black hair is slicked back against his ghostly skin, and his eyes are as dark as the color of coal. The veins pop out of his toned forearms that are braced on each side of the open door frame.

  I unglue my gaze and search for words. “Everything is fine. Just searching for my keys.” I choke, dangling them in the air, as they clank together. I look to the doorway that he’s blocking, and my eyes turn as I wait for him to excuse himself.

  He straightens up and presses his back to the door, gesturing for me to exit. I take a deep breath and slither past him awkwardly. I’m not sure what he thinks I heard, but the intimidation I feel right now leads me to believe it was something he didn’t want me to. The word illegal replays in my head as I look to Knox. His blue eyes catch mine, and my heart sinks deep into the pool of my coffee filled stomach. I hope he isn’t letting these boys drag him down. I know his mom, and she’s mentioned a time or two what a bright kid he is.

  Maybe she’s just as naive as I am because, by the sounds of it, her son is up to no good.

  3

  Knox

  We all stand by idly until Ms. Hyland is out of sight. She gives us one last glance over her shoulder, before she rounds the corner to exit the school.

  “Think she heard?” I ask the guys, still staring at the empty space that she once filled.

  “Fuck that lady.” Axel growls, as he flexes his injured hand.

  “You wish.” Kip laughs. He slams his locker shut, and we all begin walking toward the main doors.

  “I could totally bag Ms. Hyland. She’d be all over this.” Axel smooths his hand down his chest with a smirk.

  They both start laughing, but I refrain. I don’t find it funny. Maybe it’s because she might actually do it. I’ve seen her cheeks flush in Axel’s presence. Just like every other girl in the school. Girls fall over their feet for him, and the guys make a path for him. Axel is my best friend in the world, but he’s the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. Apparently, it works for him.

  The thought of Axel and Ms. Hyland makes my blood boil. I can feel the pressure rising, as my cheeks begin to burn.

  “Prove it,” Kip retorts.

  A devious bout of laughter erupts from Axel. “What’s in it for me?”

  “How about the satisfaction of bagging the hottest teacher in this school? Bragging rights. What more could you want?” Kip says, as he pushes the doors open, and we walk out into the dry sunshine. We’ve been in a drought, and the temperatures have been unusually high for this time of year. “She’s pretty hardcore, I don’t think you have a chance in hell.”

  “You definitely have no chance in hell.” I step in, voicing my opinion. Even if it may be a lie. I don’t think it would be easy, that’s for sure. But, with a little persuasion, he may have a chance. She seems lonely, so she may welcome the attention. “Why are we even talking about this?” My tone shifts. He can’t really be considering it.

  “She looks like someone who needs a little dick. Maybe it’ll loosen her up a bit. I mean, it’ll definitely loosen her up because this cock,” he gestures towards his crotch, “is fucking huge.”

  “Just drop it. You aren’t fucking our art teacher. Move your focus on someone who may actually give you a chance, like Harper.” I reach for the driver’s door of the car and look at Axel and Kip who stand on the other side, waiting to get in.

  He may actually have a better chance with Ms. Hyland than he does with Harper. They dated for three months, and she didn’t even slip him the tongue until a week before they broke up. Her legs are tightly closed, and every guy knows it. She’s one of the good girls, one who prides herself in waiting for the right guy. She’s proud of her choices, and she doesn’t use her body as a tease.

  Kip laughs. “He’s got a better chance of fucking you than he does Harper Ambrose.”

  “Shut the fuck up and unlock the door,” Axel snaps. He’s still got a soft spot for Harper and doesn’t even like her name being mentioned, since she dumped him. He’s never taken to any girls in this school. Emotion isn’t something he does well, but Harper was different. She got to him. And then she broke his black heart.


  I tap the unlock button, and we all climb into my car. “Fuck it, I’ll do it.” Axel shrugs casually. Like it's no big deal that he just decided he was going to try and sleep with our teacher. A woman who is probably ten years older than us.

  “Like hell you will,” I snap, unexpectedly. I stick the key in the ignition and start it. I roll down all the windows, and Axel, who is riding shotgun, cranks up the music.

  “How about a little wager,” he says to me, before he turns back to Kip. “You want in on this?”

  “Not a chance in hell.” He shakes his head. “High school girls scare me. Grown women with big,” he shakes the invisible jugs in front of him, “uh uh. Nope.”

  “I’m not in on this either. You have something you think you need to prove to yourself, that’s on you.”

  “Alright, here it is. I bet I can bag her within the next month.” Axel slaps the back side of his hand into my chest. “By then, Ms. Hyland will have felt her world shake beneath my body, while I fuck her brains out. When I do, you will continue to fight, even once our arrangement is over.” Axel lifts the lever, and his seat slides all the way back. He pulls on his black shades and crosses his arms behind his head.

  “You really have lost your damn mind. Besides, we are leaving for UCLA right after graduation.” I shake my head, reaching over and knocking his feet off my dash that he so comfortably just propped up.

  “Correction. You are leaving for UCLA. I’ve decided not to go to college. When I do this, you stay in the ring until you leave.”

  “Wait a minute. What the hell do you mean you decided not to go? Dude, you are the smartest kid in the school.” It’s true. Axel is a goddamn genius. He may not use all his brain cells, but he’s definitely got them.

  “I’m not going. End of conversation. So, we got a bet?”

  Kip positions himself between the two front seats. “Yes, you do. I can’t wait to see how this plays out.”

  “Don’t feed into this, Kip. It’s ridiculous.”

  “The fact that you two are even talking about this means that you know I’m about to stick my dick in Ms. Hyland.” Axel tilts his glasses and looks back and forth from Kip to me with a smirk.

  “Alright, deal.” I stick my hand out to Axel, and he shakes it, but I feel like I just made a huge mistake.

  “And when you don’t, I want your signed ball by Aaron Rodgers, Ax.” Kip’s eyes widen with excitement. Like it’s Christmas morning and Santa just left him every toy he’s ever wished for.

  He’s got a chance to get whatever we want from one of the wealthiest kids in this town, and Kip wants a signed football. I shake my head in laughter.

  “What? It’s a good call. I want it.” Kip throws himself back into the seat with a smile plastered on his face.

  I continue, “When you do not sleep with our art teacher, I want out of the contract.”

  Axel tears his sunglasses off of his face. “No, hell no. That’s part of another deal. We signed that contract in blood.”

  “Yeah, my blood.” I raise my voice.

  At the end of last summer, Axel started a small little fight club in one of his dad’s abandoned buildings, just outside of town. Since then, it’s grown into this big event that everyone looks forward to on Saturday nights. Ever since it started, he has ate, slept, and breathed for this place. It’s like he’s addicted. Fighting has never been my style, and I never planned on participating. I’d go watch the fights just like everyone else. There are about two dozen guys from the local schools in the area who fight on alternating weekends. It’s not as bad as it sounds. There are rules, but it’s also risky as hell.

  It wasn’t until a couple months ago that I was thrown into this mess.

  That one night changed everything.

  I was sitting by the fire, waiting and waiting for the cops to show up. Which, they never did. I was pissed off at the new neighbor and made my way to the stash of alcohol that I hid in the garden shed. Everyone had left, and my parents were gone, so I indulged—a little too much. The whiskey was going down smooth, and I don’t even like whiskey. I just kept thinking about how this lady ruined our night and how everyone bailed on me.

  Then I got a call from Talon, Blakely’s brother. He’s had a hard go at life and no matter how hard Blakely tried to keep him out of trouble, he always found his way back in. He had taken off from a party and was wandering the streets, drunk as shit, and needed a ride. It was either I let him get picked up by the cops, or I go pick him up myself. Against my better judgement, I went and picked his ass up. I didn’t think I was that intoxicated, but just as he climbed in the car, everything started spinning. I ignored the effects and drove anyway. Two minutes later, I found myself in a ditch and up against a tree. We weren’t hurt at all, but my car was. I knew that the only person who could get me out of this mess and hide the evidence from my parents was Axel. Sure enough, he came to the rescue. He put up the money to get the car towed and paid triple the amount to have it fixed before Monday morning. I made up some lame excuse when Mom came home. Told her that I left my car at Axel’s house and I’d get later because I wasn’t feeling good. Thankfully, she bought it.

  I paid for it.

  Axel has selfish tendencies. He doesn’t do much of anything for anyone without a price. I’ve always known this. I knew the minute that I called him for help that I was going to be in his debt. He will give his friends the shirt off his back in a heartbeat, but we pay for it in the end. I guess it’s his asshole way of helping others and helping himself at the same time.

  Our agreement was three fights. My first one is coming up in two weeks. He pays for the training and provides the space. Students bet on the fights and make money, and we pay for it with our blood and sweat. It doesn’t hurt that we get a couple hundred bucks each fight, and even more, if we win.

  “Like I said, it’ll never happen, so if calling it a bet makes you sleep better at night, have at it. But, I’m getting out of that contract when you lose.”

  “So, you’re saying we have a bet?” Axel looks to me for the words. He’s loving this. Competition is what motivates him in life. He loves to win. Unfortunately for him, this time, he will lose.

  “We already shook on it, fucker.” I keep my eyes on the road and don’t even look over at him. I already know he’s grinning in delight.

  He kicks his feet back up on the dash, and this time, I don’t knock them down.

  All I can think about right now is how he is going to try and sleep with Ms. Hyland, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  4

  Claire

  I pull into the driveway of the Porter’s house and lean back in the seat of my rusted out Volvo, closing my eyes before getting out. Blakely Porter, who runs an art studio in town, was kind enough to let me rent out the guest house here. Jorge has some kind of connection with her and her family and took care of it all for me. It’s a beautiful place. It has everything I could possibly need. The only thing that it lacks is the comfort of a home. I eat here and sleep here, but I’d hardly call it my home. For the past five years, I haven’t had one of those—I’m not sure I ever really have.

  I open my eyes and lift my head, when I catch the landscaper trimming the row of crimson fire bushes that line the front of the house. My mind drifts to a dark place, as I remember the first time my eyes caught sight of Malcolm’s landscaper. I smile at the memory, until I remember the last. I should have known better than to think that I could ever find love and keep it.

  I take a deep breath and reach for the door when my phone beeps. I glance at the screen and read the text, without even opening the message.

  Mr. Jones: Drinks at 5 at Scotty’s? We’d love to have you.

  I grab the phone and stuff it into my bag and climb out of the car. Making my way down the path that leads to the guest house. I don’t even make eye contact with the tan skinned lawn boy who is sporting a dirty white t-shirt with cut off sleeves.

  It’s hard not to miss the attention of a
gorgeous man. Malcolm showered me with attention, made me feel worthy—beautiful, inside and out. Until everything changed. It was like a switch went off, and suddenly, I wasn’t his teammate; I was his property. When that flame fizzled out, I was more desperate than ever to find someone who needed me as much as I did them. That’s when I met Ezra, the landscaper. He was a beautiful, poetic soul. So gentle, and soft spoken. We made plans to leave together and start our life. What a life that would have been.

  That was two years ago, but it feels like yesterday.

  I walk inside the quiet house and toss my bag onto the black suede sectional that sits in the center of the open room. I can’t complain much about my living quarters. There’s a small kitchen to the left with stainless steel appliances that I have yet to use. I have a few waters and some yogurt in the refrigerator. I don’t even know how to cook. I usually get takeout, unless Esme, the housekeeper at the main house, brings me dinner.

  There are a couple steps off to the side that lead up to a single bedroom and bathroom. It's quaint and peaceful.

  I lean over the marble countertop and stare at my phone.

  Just go, Claire.

  I draw out a sigh, and next thing I know, I’m responding to Mr. Jones.

  Me: I’ll be there.

  I hit send, before I have the opportunity to change my mind, and slide the phone across the counter, out of reach.

  I park along the strip where a few stores and the pub are connected. It reminds me of something I’d see in a small town Hallmark movie. The sidewalk is doodled in colorful chalk and a couple of kids are running in and out of a salon that is right next door. I smile at the curly haired blonde, as she pokes the little boy, probably her brother, and takes off running, leaving a trail of her sweet giggles.

  Taking a deep breath before going in, I grab the chrome handle of the large wooden door and pause, my anxiety getting the best of me. Before I can even take a moment to give myself one of my little pep talks, the door swings open, full force, almost knocking me on my ass. If I had been an inch closer, I’d be walking in with a bloody nose or a goose egg on my forehead.