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

by E. M. Moore

  Brawler’s hands turn to fists. I want to walk away. To escape. I don’t want to have this conversation, and I definitely don’t want to be having this conversation right now. Not just after I met my parents’ murderer and found out that in order to get on his good side, I’m going to have to fight a rival gang member for overall territory.

  Both of them stare at me. Like a spotlight has been turned toward me, heat creeps over my skin, prickly and uncomfortable.

  “Let’s not talk about this right now.”

  “Fuck that,” Brawler says. He’s seething. “I want to talk about this now.”

  Oscar shoves him out of the way. “Can’t you see she’s upset? Something about meeting K today threw her off.”

  “It’s probably the fact she has to fight one of Fonz’s fighters. What the fuck? Did no one stick up for her?”

  “We all did, fucker,” Oscar grits out. “Even Johnny. For whatever reason, K was dead set on having her do it. I don’t fucking know why.”

  Oscar twists behind him, looking at the clock. His shoulders deflate. “I have to go,” he says. His gaze searches mine as if he’s wondering if I’ll be pissed if he goes.

  I wave him away. Never. He loves football, and I would never stand in the way of it. Not like the Crew has. It’ll actually be nice if I can be alone, too. Even though it’ll never happen now. I need time to think. “Go. Good luck. Make lots of…plays,” I say, unsure of myself. I’ve never had feelings for a quarterback before.

  Oscar moves over to me, dropping a chaste kiss on my cheek. Even for how short it is, it makes my breath catch.

  “Where the fuck are you going?” Brawler demands. His voice has kept that same perturbed inflection since he walked in.

  “My game.” Oscar moves to the door and starts to open it. Before he leaves, he turns back. “Don’t get so fucking pissy, Brawler. I’ll be around to help. Don’t worry. I won’t let you have all the fun with our Kyla.”

  Brawler growls, which just pushes Oscar that much more.

  “Love the new tat, by the way.”

  “Eat a bag of dicks.”

  Oscar’s laugh lingers in the room after he’s gone. Or maybe the sound just keeps ringing in my head. It was nice to hear it, especially confronted with a very pissed off Brawler.

  “So you can officially help me train now,” I say, trying for light-hearted.

  It doesn’t work. The wings of his light and dark angel tattoos move with the rapid beat of his pulse.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Brawler asks. The anger drains from him and all that’s left is someone withering under uncertainty. “I like you. A lot. It takes a-fucking-lot to say that, and I know you’re off limits and I shouldn’t be pissed that just when I needed you, fucking Johnny swooped in. He slept with you, didn’t he? He stayed the night in your bed while I’m down the fucking hall thinking of a thousand different ways we can leave this fucking place. Of all the fucking things I want to do to you when we leave this place.” He runs a hand down his face. “Oscar?” He shakes his head like he just can’t believe it. “I know you can’t help Johnny, but Oscar? I thought—” He clears his throat. “At the risk of sounding like a whiny bitch, I thought you liked me, Kyla. Me.”

  The words start to bubble up from my chest, but I push them down. What good will admitting that I like any of these guys do me in the end? This is why I didn’t want to get mixed up in this.

  “I think we should just focus on training.”

  “Why? Because you want Oscar?” Every time he says it, his voice sounds so incredulous. Like how could I possibly want Oscar more than him.

  “No!” I finally blurt out. I stand there wide-eyed. There are so many things I want to say to him. Like how, for the first time, there’s someone who cares about me for me. Not just because I’m the offspring of a relative. But someone who truly sees me and likes me for who they see. Someone that when I meant enough to them, they didn’t force what they wanted on me.

  “I didn’t sleep sleep with Johnny.” I sigh for all the beating around the bush I’m doing. “I didn’t fuck him,” I say, making it plainly clear what I’m talking about.

  “I know. You’re not allowed to.”

  “I just wanted you to know.”

  “Oscar?”

  “I didn’t fuck him either. Why is this what we’re talking about?” I ask honestly. “Shouldn’t we be discussing fighting? Shouldn’t you be telling me the best way to beat Fonz’s people? Who do you think she’ll put me up against?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ll talk about all that with you, but Christ, Kyla, I’ve been like a fucking zombie the past week. I can’t get it out of my head that you were lying next to him when I’m not allowed to, and I’m fucking sorry, but I’m not moving past this until I get answers.”

  He’s got me trapped. My hands strain into fists at my sides. “What do you want from me then? You want to hear that I like you? You already fucking know the answer to that, Brawler. You also know we’re fucked if we do anything about it, so I don’t know why this is what we’re choosing to talk about.”

  “Because through all the bullshit, this is what fucking matters!” Brawler roars. “Because if you tell me right now there’s something here, we’re leaving. We won’t have to worry about the fight, Kyla, because I’m not going through Crew shit if I don’t have to. They took everything from me. My brother, my sister, my mom just sits around the apartment. It’s only me.” He shakes his head. “This shit isn’t happening to me again. I came over here to tell you we’re leaving. I just need you to say the word.”

  My heart cracks in two. “I can’t leave. I can’t.”

  “Johnny?”

  “Fuck Johnny,” I cry. I wipe my hands down my face, knowing I’m not entirely being honest either. “It’s not that. I can’t leave, and I can’t tell you why right now.” Leaving the Crew is one thing but telling someone I want to take out Big Daddy K is another. I can’t put that on them.

  Hurt splinters Brawler’s deep blue eyes. “You don’t trust me. After all I’ve just said…”

  “I do,” I say. “It’s just I can’t leave. I want to,” I tell him, pleading him with my heart, my body. “I just can’t right now. Please don’t ask me why. The less you know the better.”

  Brawler’s silent. I’ve hurt him. I’ve cut him open and tossed his promises aside. I sound like a cold-hearted bitch, but that’s not it at all. At least, that’s not my intention.

  He looks around like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He keeps looking toward the door time and time again. Eventually, he’ll leave through it, and I won’t know if the same Brawler who just said all that will come back to me.

  “I have to go,” he says, despair draping over his words. “Lock the door behind me. If you leave, call me or Oscar. Or Johnny,” he adds like he’s reconciled the fact that Johnny’s a part of my life now.

  “Yeah,” I choke out. “Sure.”

  He takes one last look at me then strides to the door. His heavy footsteps stop just outside, waiting for me to put the locks on. I do, and as soon as the last one is in place, his muffled footsteps shuffle down the hall back toward his place.

  As soon as he leaves, I do him one better. I go into my room and put the lock on that door in place, too. Now, no one can get to me.

  I throw myself on the bed and start to feel sorry for myself over everything that’s just happened, but then my gaze locks onto my secret hiding place. I sigh. It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to contact my aunt and uncle.

  I stand, go to the shelf, and take it out. When I power it on, I find more than a few unanswered texts. Each newer one more worried than the last. Instead of sending a text in response, I call. My aunt’s phone rings and rings until it eventually goes to voicemail. “Hey… I’m okay,” I say. “Everything’s fine here. Just school and stuff. I hope you guys are doing well.” I take the phone away from my mouth and breathe out. I wish I could tell her everything. Why does the closest person to me
still feel like they’re miles away? “Talk to you later. Bye.”

  Everything I just said is a lie. I’m not okay. School’s a joke. Everything’s not fine.

  I don’t expect anyone to sympathize with me though. I came here alone. I’ll do this on my own.

  24

  I don’t stay in the apartment for long. I can’t stand being cooped up by myself anymore. If Oscar or Brawler were with me, I’d be fine, but not by myself. Not now, anyway.

  I send Johnny a text, telling him I’m going to the school football game and that I’m alone for the moment. I do it to cover Brawler’s ass. He doesn’t need to get in trouble because I left without him. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to see me right now anyway.

  A response pings through immediately after. I’ll send Magnum.

  I stop in the stairwell of the building to type out: You don’t have to. I kind of want to do this by myself. Plus, Oscar will be there.

  My phone rings in my hand as I’m slipping it into my pocket after sending the last text. Johnny sounds agitated. “I don’t want you to be alone right now. It’s dangerous.”

  I bite back a groan and lower my voice as I cross the street away from my building. “Hey, I’ll be okay,” I say. “I mean, I’m tough enough to fight, right?”

  “Fists don’t stop bullets, babe.”

  His term of endearment makes a short smile flicker across my lips. “I don’t want to be cooped up in my apartment forever, Johnny. You can see that, right?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” he says. “What do you think about moving into the tower with me?”

  I swallow. “The tower?”

  “You know, my place.”

  The back of my neck bristles. I can’t move in with him. Even if that will put me in a prime place to see K. Actually, fuck that. I can move in with him, can’t I? My mind wanders to Oscar and Brawler. If I can kill Big Daddy K sooner rather than later, would they come with me?

  Jesus. What the hell am I thinking? They both have lives here. I’m the only one who doesn’t.

  “My dad will probably want us to wait until after the fight at least. I don’t know. It’s just a thought.”

  “What would that change for me?” I ask, biting my lip. Johnny wants me to live with him. It’s so stupid but tears come to my eyes. This is the first time someone’s expressed it like that to me. I settle my beating heart and return to the conversation. “If I move in, I’ll just have to stay in your place instead of mine.”

  “I’ll get you your own bodyguard.”

  “No,” I say right away. That has done nothing but make things more fucking difficult for me. I don’t need another guy I’ll be staying with, trust me. I don’t want to keep my hands to myself on the two I have.

  “Kyla…”

  “So, I am really fighting, right?”

  “Yes,” he says, his tone clipped. He still doesn’t sound very happy about it, but it’s his father’s decision, and he knows it. “I’m sending Magnum. Bye, Kyla.”

  He ends the call. I pull the cell phone away from my ear and stare at the screen before shoving it into my back pocket as I approach the school. Whatever. I don’t know why I thought he would let me get away with this.

  There are fewer cars in the parking lot than normal. I follow the sparse crowd to the back of the school as a sharp whistle pierces the air.

  The field is small, and the crowd doesn’t even fill the few seats the bleachers have. I guess there’s way more important things for people to do than go to a football game on Friday night. Hell, there are more people crowded in the old, abandoned warehouse when the fights are taking place than there are here right now.

  This whole fucking city is backwards.

  I walk right up to the chain-link fence that separates the crowd from the players. Scanning the uniformed athletes, I look for someone who looks like he’s as important as the quarterback should be. I’ve missed a little of the game. A quick check of the scoreboard tells me it’s the second quarter. In front of me, the Rawley Heights players are just coming off the field. I’ve never been a big sports person unless it’s fighting, so I don’t even know if it’s the offense or the defense coming off until a guy takes his helmet off, and I clearly see Oscar.

  My heart skips a beat. I stick my hand in the air and wave. I catch his attention, and his eyes round. He searches my vicinity, and when he doesn’t see anyone, he jogs up to the fence. Behind him, his coach is calling his name, but he ignores him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks. Sweat beads over his upper lip. His usual pristine hair is matted to his head.

  “I told you I wanted to come.”

  “Where’s Brawler?” Then, his eyes round in understanding. “He’s pissed at you.”

  My stomach dips. I’m pretty sure he is pissed at me and who knows if he’ll ever get over it.

  As if reading my thoughts, Oscar says, “He’ll get over it.”

  I shake my head. “I just wanted to see you play.”

  His already reddened cheeks seem to glow like I’ve just given him the best compliment in the world. “No one’s with you though,” he says, lowering his voice.

  “Johnny’s sending Magnum to meet me.”

  Oscar groans, his lips tipping up at the corners. “He’s a lively one. I’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun.”

  He moves in closer. My body remembers what it felt like earlier, and every nerve comes to attention. He’d be stupid to do anything here, but sometimes I think Oscar’s brazen enough to do just that. He’s reckless, and damnit if I don’t want to be reckless with him.

  Behind him, Oscar’s coach gets more insistent. He gives a dark look over his shoulder but turns disappointed eyes back to me. “Got to go. Feel free to look at my ass in these pants. I’m sure you’ll like what you see.”

  A laugh bubbles up my throat.

  He winks before turning around, and I do like what I see. I understand why people like watching football now. As he jogs away, he gives himself a tap on his ass, which makes me bite my lip. When he gets to his coach, he peeks at me and grins when he sees the dumb, sexed-up look on my face.

  I stay where I am until halftime. I look around, surprised Magnum hasn’t made an appearance yet. It’s not like he wouldn’t be able to see me even if he stayed in the background. The place isn’t crowded, and I’m almost the only one clutching the fence. Maybe that’s what he’s doing. Giving me space.

  Rawley Heights is winning. Or should I say Oscar is winning? He’s good. He wasn’t exaggerating, and even though I love to watch him play, it makes me sad too. His abilities are lost here. No one gives a fuck. No one, besides what looks like a few football parents or girlfriends of players, sit in the stands. I can’t see any of the administration. There’s no concession stand. No cheerleaders. There’s nothing.

  And Oscar’s stuck. It’s bullshit is what it is.

  I pull out my cell phone to see if I’ve heard back from Johnny. Surprisingly, there is a text there, but not from a phone number I recognize until I bring it up. It’s Mag. I’m giving you some time. If Johnny asks, I was with you the whole game. Don’t fuck this up.

  I don’t know how to answer, so after deleting the text, I just put my phone back in my pocket. I figure if he really is being nice and wants me to have a little time, I’m not going to rat him out, so I’m certainly not going to leave evidence of what he’s doing on my phone.

  “Kyla.”

  I glance up. It’s Oscar. He cocks his head toward a small building on the side of the field then disappears behind it. I look around, everyone else is talking amongst themselves. The coach, in particular, is giving one kid the riot act about some dropped pass. I have to admit, I don’t remember what he’s talking about. I watched Oscar the whole time.

  I make myself move toward the small building even though every fiber in my being is telling me it’s a bad idea.

  When I come around the corner, Oscar is leaning against the back wall much like when I saw him the firs
t time. Those initial feelings sprout up again. He’s so handsome. So dangerously sexy with his dark looks and badass attitude.

  Except now, he’s in a hot as fuck jersey with tight ass pants on.

  “Yeah?” I ask. Looking up at the building behind him, so I don’t have to look at his face. “What’s this building?”

  “We keep equipment in here.”

  For whatever reason, the area seems to block us from the rest of the world. We don’t hear the sounds on the field or the people watching. It’s just us.

  “I thought you might want to makeout with the quarterback of a football team.”

  My lips slide into a smile. “You just want to get lucky during halftime. Something to check off a to-do list.”

  He shakes his head. “No. I’ve been noticing the way you’ve been looking at me. You’re practically salivating.”

  “What can I say? I have a thing for athletes.”

  He pulls me toward him. His pads hard against my chest. “We didn’t get to finish what we started earlier.”

  My heart rate amps up. As much as I want to keep flirting with him, we’re treading the line of disaster. “This is a terrible idea, Oscar. Someone’s going to see us.”

  “I don’t care. I’ve been looking from afar for too long.”

  His skilled hand slides up my hip and just under my shirt. He presses his palm into my lower back and maneuvers his knee between my legs. “Oscar,” I warn.

  Dark eyes devour me. “One taste,” he pleads.

  We reach for each other at the same time, our lips colliding. He slides his knee higher and presses me down until a delicious friction starts in my core. I gasp between his lips, and he smiles. “I knew you’d like it on the bad side.”

  “This is stupid,” I mumble against his lips.

  “Very.” A moan breaks him off. “Fuck, Kyla. I can’t think straight.” His fingers trail under the waistband of my jeans.

  He changes our position, gently pushing me against the side of the building.

  “You know how much it sucks having a hard-on in a fucking cup?”

  I grin. “This was your idea.”