Uppercut Princess: A Dark High School Romance (The Heights Crew Book 1)

by E. M. Moore

  As soon as we get inside and Brawler locks the door behind us, he says, “What happened?” His voice is dark. Just another guy pulling an alpha male. His fists clench and unclench at his sides.

  “Nothing.”

  I try to escape to my room, but he gets in front of me. “Don’t do that. What happened?”

  For a moment, a glimmer of hope rises inside of me. Maybe I can trust Brawler. Truly. Look at him. He’s concerned. He’s asking. He’s fucking asking because he really wants to know.

  But that’s ridiculous. I shake my head and try to move around him, but he grabs my arm. “Don’t do that.” He sucks in a breath. “Fuck. You know I’m the most real thing in your life right now. Talk to me.”

  My jaw locks. I turn toward him. His eyes are practically begging me, and it’s too much to try to keep inside anymore. “Johnny kissed me.”

  Brawler blinks, unable to keep the surprise from his face. Then, he cocks his head. “Hasn’t he kissed you already?”

  Internally, I scream in frustration. Of course everyone just assumes we’re fucking because I’m his girl, right? Because that’s what I would do. “Forget it.”

  “No,” Brawler says. “Make me understand.”

  I yank my hand out of his grip. My skin crawls with agitation. “He. Kissed. Me. He did it in front of that asshole waiter so he could show him he controls me. So he could prove I’m his, that he fucking owns me. He forced his tongue down my throat to show someone he mattered and the other guy didn’t, and neither of them asked what I wanted.” I shake my head. “One of them wanted to claim me as his prize for winning a fight, the other thinks I’m already his.”

  Brawler’s eyes are like roaring thunder. “No one owns you if you don’t want to be owned,” he says.

  “It’s too late. You said that already. You said that from the very beginning.”

  “I was wrong,” Brawler bites out. “Look at you. Christ. You’re…unbelievable. Beautiful. Strong.” He says it in awe, like he’s never seen anything like me. I think back on the message he left me on my bathroom mirror. He’s been trying to tell me these things all along.

  He goes to turn away, but I catch his arm, making him stop. “Don’t. Please. I want to hear it.”

  “You’re a fighter, Kyla,” he says eventually, emotion flickering in his sapphire eyes. “You’re strong. I can already see that no matter how much he pushes, he won’t have you. Not all of you. I don’t get why you want to stay. I don’t need to. We’ve all done shit because we felt we had to. I get it. That doesn’t mean you’re weak. That means you’re fucking unbelievably strong.”

  The tension between us crackles with electricity. I want to jump him. I want to tell him to kiss me, not to wash away the memories of Johnny’s kiss, but because I want to kiss Brawler.

  Damn being “Kyla” right now. Damn the plan. I want what I want. I need him.

  19

  The moment we both give in is like a hiccup in time and space, where he’s just waiting for me to say the words.

  They’re threatening to spill out, but I don’t know what it’ll do to me. What it’ll do to us going forward. I can’t tell Brawler why I’m here. I can’t. If I care about him as much as I think I do, it’ll only put him in danger.

  “It’s okay,” he says, understanding the conflict I’m having.

  I drop my head to his chest and breathe in deep. The collar of the dress cuts into me. The sequins make my neck burn with agitation. “Can you help me take this dress off?”

  For a moment, he stops breathing. “I see. You want to torture us both.”

  “I just don’t want to be in Johnny’s dress anymore. Not when you’re here.”

  He lifts my chin. “It’s not Johnny’s dress. Trust me. You own that. You owned the whole warehouse tonight. It’s not what you want to hear, but I’m not surprised he beat the piss out of that waiter. I wanted to lay everyone out who looked at you tonight.”

  “No one looked at me.”

  “You’re blind.” His hands move around me, trailing up my spine. “But I’ll take it off if you want. If it means something different to you.”

  His fingers fondle the zipper. I bend my head so he can get a better purchase. The sound of the zipper lowering fills the room. It’s like when a video buffers. Time stills, just waiting for what we’ll do next.

  “I want to be me,” I say. He’ll never know this, but I want to be me, not Kyla. Not the name I made up to come here, but I want to be the girl all grown up in the life she was supposed to have. Someone who’s in charge of her own destiny. Someone who would’ve seen Brawler in a gym and would’ve been interested right away. Someone who would’ve had the choice to go up to him.

  I pull at the cropped sleeves of my dress until I can maneuver my arms out without agitating the scrape on my shoulder. Then, I drop the front, wiggling out of it until it’s around my ankles. Brawler’s gaze never leaves my eyes. Even though I’m standing here in my bra and panties, he never peeks. I want him to, but I can’t come up with the words. Saying the words will mean I’m giving in to the temptation of leaving all this behind. Don’t get me wrong, I want Big Daddy K to pay. But not getting my revenge? That would have been much easier. So much easier.

  “I’ve already seen the real you,” Brawler says.

  His words make me wince. He hasn’t seen me. Not at all. I’m pretending to be someone else.

  “I need to wash my mouth out with bleach.”

  “You need to let yourself feel how you want to feel.”

  “We’d be fucked.”

  “We’re already fucked.”

  Brawler moves closer. He’s only inches away now, standing over me, practically vibrating. “Tell me I can kiss you. Tell me I can touch you.”

  He has no idea how much I want him to, but I can’t. I just can’t. For me, giving in doesn’t just mean that if Johnny finds out, he’ll most likely kill us. Giving in means I’m saying Brawler’s more important than what I came here for.

  He drops his head when I don’t say the words. “You know what I see? Someone who’s scared. I see an unbelievably strong person, but when it comes to shit like this?” he says, motioning between the two of us. “You’re scared. You’d rather hole up with Johnny because that’s easier than feeling anything real.”

  “You’re right,” I tell him, nodding. Disappointment lapping at my heels. “That’s exactly what this is. I’m so glad you figured me out.” I bend over to pick up my dress and then push past him to shut myself away in my bedroom. Leaning back against the door, I breathe in deep, trying to settle my nerves. I’ve never wanted to tell someone something more in my whole life. If I could split myself open, so Brawler could see the things inside me, I would.

  “Don’t run away,” Brawler says. His voice rings clear as if he’s just on the other side of the door.

  “There are things I can’t tell you right now.”

  “That’s everybody. All of us hide dark shit inside.”

  I close my eyes, trying to put up an invisible wall between us. “Maybe you should get Oscar to stay with me tonight.” Though Oscar’s not that much better of a choice. Something’s brimming there, too. It’s just that where Brawler and I are concerned, we’re about to overflow.

  “Oscar?” Brawler hums until his voice turns gravely. “Oscar’s watching his mom. She got back on crack a couple of weeks ago.”

  My lips thin. I press a hand to my chest, trying to regain control. There’s so much sadness here.

  “Just let me in,” Brawler coaxes. “I won’t try anything. I won’t push. Just let me be near you. I won’t even make it about you. I want to be near you. Okay? Me. Put it all on me.”

  I step away from the door and reach back to turn the knob before retreating to the small chest of drawers in the corner. There, I find a nightshirt and pull it over my head. The skin on my shoulder stretches with the movement, and I bury a hiss of pain.

  As I make my way to the bed, Brawler says, “You don’t have to tell me e
verything. Hell, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

  “I like that fucking idea,” I say, getting comfy on the bed. I sit cross-legged, pulling the sheets up over my lap.

  He shakes his head, but an amused smile lifts his lips. “I want to know more about how you started fighting,” he says.

  Now this is a comfortable conversation. I move up the bed, resting my back carefully against the wall and motion for Brawler to take the foot. He sits, the bed compressing under his weight. “I found fighting as a way to get out my aggression.” For once, this isn’t a lie. Honest to God, a counselor I used to see after my parents’ death told my aunt and uncle it might be a good idea. From then on, I was hooked. At first, it worked because I was tiring myself out. It felt good to direct my anger in a good way. Then, when I made the pact with myself that I would take on Big Daddy K, it became bigger than just healing. I knew I would have to be strong. I knew I would have to have a certain skill set. When I heard about the underground fighting, it made this all the better. “How about you?” I ask. “What are the Brawler’s origins?”

  A shadow creeps over his face, like it’s a stalker he can’t get rid of, never too far behind. “I just wanted to be like my big brother,” he says. “That’s what started it for me.”

  “Your brother was in the Heights Crew,” I guess. He mentioned to me once the Crew killed him, so it fits.

  Brawler fiddles with the dressing that’s still around his neck. “Yes.”

  “Are you going to join, too?” I know I’ve already asked him this before, but this time, I’m hoping for a more genuine answer.

  He lifts his gaze to mine. “It depends.”

  His stare is heavy, like he’s putting his answer on me. I’m used to a certain amount of weight being on my shoulders, but this is pushing me over the edge. “On?”

  “If you would’ve asked me a week ago, I would’ve said ‘fuck no’. Not if I could help it. Not that I ever told anyone that. I like doing what I do for the Crew. I like the fighting aspect. It’s the only way I’ll be able to do it.”

  “You’re wrong. You need to go to a real gym, Brawler. You need to train, get with people who can put you into some amateur fights.”

  “You should be saying the same thing to yourself,” Brawler challenges.

  “I can’t do that…yet. Or ever. We’re not talking about me,” I snap.

  He lifts his hand, conceding. “I can’t do that either,” he says after a while. “I’m pretty sure these gyms will want money. Don’t have much of that.”

  “But you get paid for the fights, right? And for running it?”

  Brawler nods. “Yeah, I do. And if it was just me, I might be okay, but I have to take care of my mom. She can’t work, so it’s all on me.”

  I see Brawler in a whole different light. He’s the only one who makes money for his family? It’s just so…sad. I wish I could change that for him. But like with Oscar and Johnny and any of the rest of them, do they even really have a way out of this?

  Brawler reaches out his hand, placing it on my calf. I suck in a breath. Every time he touches me, the pull gets stronger. “You know we can’t,” I say. “He’ll kill us.”

  In any other scenario, I might be exaggerating, but not this one. I don’t know what he did to the waiter, but I have a feeling if he’s not dead, he wishes he was at the current moment.

  “I’m trying to figure out if I care or not.”

  I pull my leg back and out of his reach. “I’ll care for the both of us. You saw what he did to that waiter.”

  “I’ve been waiting to fight Johnny for a long time, so maybe I don’t give a fuck.”

  My mouth slams shut. What Brawler’s just said is akin to treason. If anyone else were here and overheard what he said, he’d be dragged in front of Johnny and his father to be taken care of.

  “Don’t act so surprised, Princess. You don’t like him either. You didn’t want him. You didn’t ask for this. He took you, remember? He just decided that you were his one day and now you have to live with the consequences. He forced his lips on you today.” He shudders. “Not because he wanted to, but to prove a point. You don’t want to be anyone’s point, do you?”

  My hands fists the sheets at my waist. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  “Well, good, it’s fucking working.”

  “Then leave.”

  I shake my head. I can’t believe we’re going through this again. “I’m not leaving.”

  “You need to. You need to get the fuck out of here. It’s dangerous. I know you’re a kick ass fighter, but you’re too close to the top now. It’s not safe for you. You’re a target.”

  “What do you know?” I ask.

  Brawler stands from the bed, his hands diving through his blond hair. “I know what happens to people close to the fucking top!” He turns his back to me, walks a few paces away, and then starts again. His shoulders drop. “You asked if my brother was in the Crew, and I said yes. I already told you he’s dead.” He turns back toward me. His face twisted. “He’s dead because of them, and that’s not even the worst part. My sister’s gone too. She died as a bystander.”

  Horror rips through me, and I’m not doing a very good job of acting like it’s not. The Crew killed his brother and sister. “Your sister? Was she—?”

  “Fuck no,” he breathes. “Caught in the crossfire when one person is aiming for another and accidentally takes someone else out. That’s what happens in the Crew.” He reaches his hands up to his neck, pulling at the bandages there. He reveals part of a wing, drawn on skin that’s still red and raw. He keeps pulling at the bandage until his whole tattoo is revealed.

  I suck in a breath at how beautiful it is.

  I drop my feet off the side of the bed and stand, already making my own conclusions on what the tattoo means to him. When I get to him, I reach my fingers out to graze along the crisp edges. Under his left ear is a large, black wing, like an angel of death. It starts in the middle of his throat where his Adam’s apple bobs and reaches all the fleshy dip under his ear, the tip of the wing disappearing there. Under his right ear is a polar opposite tattoo, shadowed in a gold color, but filled in with white like a wing from an angel itself.

  Brawler catches my hand. He moves my palm over the black wing. “This is for my brother.” He takes my other hand and places it over the white wing. “This is for my sister. Together, they’re like two parts of me. Some days I feel like this is the only life I’ll know,” he says, squeezing the hand that’s over the black wing. “Other days, I want to be this,” he says, squeezing my hand that’s over the tattoo for his sister. “Most days I’m afraid I won’t live up to either one.”

  My breath catches. I haven’t heard such honesty before unless it’s in my own head. “It’s okay to be both,” I say. “A little dark. A little light.”

  As I talk, I draw closer and closer, like I’m called there. My lips brush his, and the whole world tilts on its axis. I’ve never met someone so much like me before. What does it say about me that I feel more at home here than I ever did at my aunt and uncle’s house? That I see some of these souls as kindred spirits. Like we were cut from the same cloth. His pain is a Siren’s song to me. I want nothing more than to bathe in it, free my own dark thoughts, so we can emerge from the water free together.

  I press my lips more greedily against his. A brush isn’t enough. This is why I was totally against it. This is why I wanted nothing to do with it. Because I knew once it started, it would never be enough.

  He winds his arms around me like two thick tree trunks of muscle, pulling me toward him. My chest brushes his, sending delicious sensations to my core.

  We start out greedy. Touching each other everywhere, delving into deep kisses like we’ll never do this again. Eventually, he calms us both, stringing his fingers through my hair, slowing the kiss until he’s kissing me slowly, passionately. Taking his time, making sure I’m loved in a way I want to be.

 
; “Fucking Christ,” he breathes, breaking the kiss. He pulls my shirt up and presses a palm to my belly, his fingers teasing the top of my panties. “I want to touch you, Kyla.”

  My mind’s already obliterated. Sense and better judgement don’t have a place here, right now. I grab his wrist and move him down. “God, yes.”

  His fingers dip inside my panties one second, but the next Brawler rips his lips and his hands from me. I’m so stunned that when he moves into the other room, I start to follow him, but then Johnny’s voice permeates my lust-induced brain. I stand there for half a second, unable to move, but then I scramble to the bed and pull the covers up over me.

  In the other room, they greet one another. I listen for any indication that Johnny knows what was about to happen between Brawler and I, but I don’t hear anything. Brawler definitely had a hard-on, a stiff cock I was dying to explore.

  If Johnny figures it out, I already know I won’t hesitate to run out there to defend him. I’d throw myself, my plan, and everything else under the bus just to save him.

  A moment later, footsteps approach the bed. Fingers tentatively touch my hair and work their way through the strands. The touch is soft, but from the musk he brought with him, I know who it is. I open my eyes, and Johnny smiles. On the heels of Brawler’s story, it’s a little harder to pretend right now. How much did Johnny have to do with Brawler’s brother and sister’s death? “I missed you,” he whispers.

  “Yeah?” I ask, my voice cracking. At least it sounds like he woke me up. He won’t suspect I was just about to get off on Brawler’s fingers.

  Johnny leans over me, getting into bed. My heart races, pumping painfully against my chest. My eyes widen with panic until he settles in behind me, lifting the covers to spoon me. He curls his arm under my head and places his other on my hip, squeezing me gently before dropping his head to the pillow. “Good night, Kyla.”