Breaking Her Bad by Michelle Mankin

 

 

 

 

 

Kyle

The next day at school, I was tired but jazzed on adrenaline. The night had been transformed by Claire, and I anticipated the day to be too. In my corner behind the school, I divided my attention between looking for her and moving product.

Okay, not true.I mostly looked for her. I was so distracted that I wouldn’t have tallied the cash correctly if Tommy hadn’t helped.

“Thanks for having my back,” I told him as the last customer slunk away, their shoulders hunched over their precious product like Gollum with the ring. “Last night and this morning.”

“We’re friends. That’s been established. Yeah?” He slapped my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said.

It was only that I’d never had a friend I could really trust. One that when I’d asked him to do one thing with Claire’s bracelet, he’d chosen to do another because he had my best interest at heart. I’d wanted a friend like that, a wingman like Bryan was for War, and I believed I had one now.

And that was monumental. A potential game changer. But like most things of great value in Southside, it was best to downplay their significance.

“Glad you acknowledge it, because we’re past the point where you can get rid of me.” Tommy glanced past me and grinned. “There she is.”

“Who?” I said, feigning ignorance, and he rolled his eyes.

“You know who, asshole.”

“Yeah, I do.” I followed the direction of my heart’s desire here like I had in Lakeside, and it led me to her. “Wow.”

Claire looked incredible. Her hair was loose again today. In heavy waves, it framed her delicate features and cascaded over her slender shoulders. The sun chose that moment to break through the low clouds, making the golden threads sparkle. But Claire sparkled brighter.

My head wasn’t the only one that turned to follow her as she moved along the sidewalk from the parking lot. The guys—and I wanted to beat up every one of them—gave her lustful looks, and the girls gave her catty stares.

Drawn to her, I started toward her.

“Don’t.” Tommy grabbed my arm. “Remember the plan.”

It was my plan. I’d called Missy, and Missy called Claire. I definitely remembered.

“But she’s mine.” I snarled at him, wanting to claim her. “And those assholes are mentally undressing her.”

“I see that, man.” He whistled low under his breath. “But does it really matter when she’s only looking at you?”

“Yeah, it so the fuck does.” I gave him an incredulous glance. “You’ll understand some day, if you’re ever lucky enough to meet a girl like Claire.”

“Well, that’s not gonna happen.”

I didn’t argue with him. Claire was one in a million, a chance I’d never expected to find. But getting it, I was going to do everything I could to keep it. Keep her.

Rambling toward my one in a million, I tamped out the heat in my gaze, replacing it with an arctic permafrost for everyone else’s benefit.

Turning her head, Claire saw me. Her eyes met mine with a passion I could feel, a wildfire consuming everything in its path. I wanted to grab her and kiss the hell out of her, but I forced myself to rein in that desire.

For now.

“Hey, hold up, Claire,” I called. Stepping in front of her, I forced her to stop.

“Kyle.” Her expression haughty, she swept her gaze over me. “Get out of my way.”

“No.” I placed my hands on her upper arms, gripping them firmly. I was grateful for this bullshit game. It gave me an excuse to touch her. It had been too long since last night.

“What do you want?” Yanking her arms free, she cranked up her chin. Her beautiful brown eyes flashed with the same intensity as the fire consuming me.

You, I said with the flare in my gaze, and she licked her dry lips. We didn’t need words.

Circling her, I drank her in greedily. Her round tits strained the stitching of a faded Anthem tee, and a tight pair of jeans showcased her long, shapely legs.

But looking wasn’t enough. I wanted to grab her, take her somewhere private, strip her, and have her again. Only maybe I’d let her keep on one item of clothing, those cute red boots of hers. They were so Claire. My Claire.

“What I want is for you to stay away from my apartment,” I growled. Again, there was wordless communication. What I really meant was I want you naked and writhing on my cock.

Kyle.Her sweet mouth formed my name.

She inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring as my scent hit her. I knew because mine were flaring as hers hit me.

Drenched in wildflower dew, I dipped my gaze to her delectable tits, noting her hardened nipples jutting against the lace of her bra. Her well-worn tee was practically transparent in the sun.

My palms burned with the need to touch her. I curled my hands into fists, resisting that need. Barely.

“You totally killed the vibe at my apartment last night.” I narrowed my gaze, sweeping it over her.

I saw the shiver that rolled through her. But did anyone else watch her as closely as I did?

“Uptight chick like you doesn’t belong anywhere near a good time. So, keep the hell away.”

I placed my hands on her delicate shoulders. Making eye contact to telegraph my intention, I carefully shoved Claire backward into Missy’s waiting arms.

“Prick.” Missy glared at me. “Leave us alone.”

It was a stellar protective-best-friend performance. Though I knew the dedication to Claire that inspired her performance was very real.

“Don’t care what you call me.” I jerked up my chin. “Stay away. Both of you. You’re bad for business.”

I turned on my moto boot heels and strode away, feeling Claire’s gaze on me with every footfall.

Tommy fell into place beside me. “Excellent performance.”

“Thanks,” I managed to say. Barely.

Fake angry Claire with her eyes throwing sparks was as irresistible as passionate Claire. Like a diamond held up to the light, all her fiery and different facets dazzled me.

• • •

 

Claire

I didn’t expect to like pretending to be enemies with Kyle at school, but I did because his words said one thing but his eyes said another. They were a fire that burned me, much like he did.

“Whew.” Feeling that intensity all over again, I picked up my notebook and fanned my face. “It’s really hot in here.”

“No doubt it is for you.” Missy gave me a knowing glance from her seat across the aisle. Her phone pinged, and she turned it over to look at the display.

The bell rang, and when Mr. Schubert tapped his desk, I shifted my attention to the front of the classroom.

Mr. Schubert rose from his desk and moved to the chalkboard. “Let’s start where we left off yesterday. The themes in Romeo and Juliet.” He wrote the words in sprawling masculine cursive. “Who wants to begin the discussion?”

Chalk in hand, he turned to face the class, and I raised my hand.

“Yes, Miss Walsh?” He pointed to me with his chalk.

“Romantic love,” I said.

“That’s correct.” He nodded approvingly. “The abiding quality of it, to be more specific. Love that transcends the ages.”

“Of course you got that one.” Missy snickered at me from behind her hand while Mr. Schubert turned around to write my answer on the chalkboard.

“Miss Rivera.” Mr. Shubert turned to face the class again. “Do you have something you would like to share with the class?”

She tapped her cheek with her pencil as if considering. “That you look very distinguished in your red bow tie today?”

“No, um . . .” He dug a finger into his collar as if it were suddenly too tight. “Related to the topic at hand. Themes of the play.”

Missy shrugged. “Oh. There are a lot of them.”

“There certainly are. That is correct.” He shook his head. “Would you care to enumerate a few?”

“Sure,” she said. “Individual goals versus societal norms, violence, the overarching power of patriarchy, death, the inevitability of fate, marriage, the ideological divide between young and old.”

His eyes rounded behind his glasses, and mine did too. Missy had been holding back her interest and knowledge of the material from me.

“That is quite thorough and correct.” Mr. Schubert’s eyes gleamed. “That’s going to bring your class participation up to an A.”

Missy beamed. “Awesome.”

I knew she was smart. She just hadn’t revealed that in any of our shared classes so far.

“Wow.” I leaned toward her as Mr. Schubert wrote her answers on the board. “You really get Shakespeare.”

“I relate to the subject matter is all.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

I did too, unfortunately. Though I liked pretending to be enemies with Kyle, I would prefer being with him openly. But I knew that wasn’t likely to happen. Not anytime soon.

Missy’s phone pinged again.

“Is there a problem, Miss Rivera?” Mr. Schubert asked, staring right at her.

“Yes, actually. I have a sudden and unexpected female-product issue. Can I have a hall pass?”

“Oh.” Mr. Schubert’s face turned red. “Yes, you may.”

He went to his desk, grabbed a pad, and quickly filled out a form.

“Claire will need to come too,” Missy said. “Since she . . . um . . . has the necessary feminine products in her locker.”

“Absolutely.” He ripped the paper from the pad. “Here you go.”

Missy stood, grabbing her backpack, and I did too, following her up the aisle. She took the pass from Mr. Schubert’s hand, and he didn’t make eye contact with us. I remembered my dad being embarrassed like that whenever my mom or I had conversations about our cycle. Thinking of my dad, I rubbed the ache in my chest as I stepped out into the hall.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, just the way Mr. Schubert got all embarrassed kind of reminded me of my dad.”

“I’m sorry. Come here.”

She opened her arms, and I moved into them. I planted my face in her neck and she hugged me, seeming not to be in a hurry to go to my locker, which was strange given the matter at hand.

“Thanks.” I eased back to smile at her. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

“I’m the lucky one.” Missy’s eyes were wet with emotion like mine. “If Juliet had a friend like me, her situation with Romeo would have turned out differently for sure. C’mon.”

Releasing me, she grabbed my hand and tugged.

“What?” I cocked my head as she pulled me in the opposite direction of our lockers. “Where are we going?”

“That’s for me to know.” She gave me a teasing smile. “You’ve been summoned. Kyle wants you.”