Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“Who the fuck are they supposed to be? Batman and Robin?”
“We’re gonna be your worst fucking nightmare if you don’t leave her the fuck alone,” Oscar growled. This was Wildcard. The fighter. The one who didn’t fuck around.
The boy laughed. “Get the fuck out of here. This isn’t your situation. She’s my girl. This is our business.”
“I’m not your girl anymore, Trace! We’re fucking done. I told you to stop messing with Greta and you go right along and take her to your car? Fuck you, you fucking asshole! I know she sucked you off!”
Bitch Boy clearly didn’t like Jenny’s friend talking back to him. His eyes lit up, the flames bright and fuming, and he stomped her way. Before he could lay a hand on her, I snagged him by the back of his shirt, gripped his arm, twisted it, and slammed his face into the nearest wall.
He groaned, and his body sagged, but he was still conscious—in a lot of pain, I was sure, but conscious.
I gritted my teeth, nostrils flared as Wildcard came to my side. I spun him around, and Wildcard punched Bitch Boy square in the jaw.
“Apologize,” I snapped. “To both of them. Right fucking now.”
“Fuck you,” Bitch Boy hissed.
Wildcard laughed. “Fuck us?” He swung again, landing a blow to his already bloody nose. “I’d advise you to apologize right now or you won’t be living to see tomorrow.” Wildcard started to swing again.
I knew with the rage he always had cooped inside, he’d keep going, so I yanked the boy back and gripped him by the throat, preventing another blow as I shoved Bitch Boy against the wall. “Apologize to them.”
Bitch Boy’s throat worked hard behind my hand, but his eyes quickly averted to Jenny and her friend—Jenny and her friend who looked deathly afraid of us now. They probably thought we’d kill him. Shit, a fucker like him didn’t deserve death. He deserved misery.
“Fuck. I’m fucking sorry! All right?! Damn! Get the fuck off of me!” Bitch Boy tried getting out of my arms but I didn’t release him…not immediately. I waited until I saw tears creep to the corners of his eyes.
I wanted Jenny and her friend to see how much of a pussy he really was—how spoiled fucking wimps like him didn’t deserve to get in their panties.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I snarled, finally releasing him and shoving him away. Bitch Boy Trace stumbled towards the back door, his voice cracking as he shouted, “We’re fucking done, Kylie! Fucking done! You hear me!?”
“Fuck you, asshole! I was finished with you first!” Kylie spewed in his direction. When he was gone, her eyes grew cloudy and then her tears fell.
Jenny opened her arms, hugging her friend and cooing to her that it would be okay, shooting me a quick glance.
“Hey, don’t let that fucking loser get to you, all right?” Wildcard said, stepping forward. He was still heated, fists clenched. He still wanted to fight, his temper still on the rise. He was gonna be good for tonight. He was amped. Ready.
Though Wildcard was angry, he still held a softness to him that I never quite understood until we were sixteen. At sixteen I witnessed him beating his father’s face in until no one could make it out. He had his reasons, but that is his story. One I’d vowed never to tell.
Kylie lifted her head, peering up at Wildcard. Admiration overshadowed her gloom, her small features softening, and she pulled away from Jenny. “We just broke up so… I guess it’s just hard to accept right now. Plus I’m kinda drunk… but whatever.” She shrugged in a way that made her seem so innocent and helpless.
But I knew she wasn’t. I could tell she always got her way—that she was the friend that got most of the attention when it came down to her and Jenny. I also knew Jenny didn’t mind that her best friend got all the attention. Jenny wasn’t an attention-seeking person. She was reserved.
“I just thought he was better than that,” she goes on.
“True colors show when someone is drunk or high. And he is fucking stoned, sweet girl.” Kylie blushed and Wildcard’s cheek tilted. A genuine half-smile. “Come on, let’s go get you a drink, forget about that fucking dick.”
“Okay.” She hurried for Wildcard’s side, and he pressed his hand to the small of her back, allowing her to walk before him. I shook my head, knowing just what he was getting at.
Getting laid by an angry girl was easy, especially when she was angry with someone she cared about—even better if she actually loved the guy.
When they disappeared within the wave of bodies, I felt a pair of eyes on me and looked towards Jenny. She had her arms folded, her lips pressed. “Surprised you showed,” she said as she stepped closer.