by Nicole Fox
I’m supposed to be writing an essay about what I hope to achieve during my final year of high school for my Theory of Knowledge class. Goals. Aspirations. That kind of bullshit.
I do have a lot of things I want to accomplish. But destroying Haley Cochran and paying off my mom’s mortgage probably aren’t the kinds of answers Mrs. Benac is expecting. So I’m drawing a bit of a blank here.
“I don’t like how much time you’re spending alone,” Mom says, grabbing her keys and purse from the island. “I’m not here most evenings, and then you’re at Finn’s house alone so much and—”
“I wasn’t alone.”
She brightens for a minute before her eyes narrow. When she is disappointed or suspicious, I finally see what people mean when they say we look alike.
“I told you, the second I find out you are taking girls over to Finn’s house, I’m taking those keys away and looking after the place myself.”
My mom likes to pretend there is a possibility I’m still a virgin. It’s adorable. I indulge her delusion for no other reason than that she has enough things to worry about.
“J.C. and Noah came with me,” I say, rolling my eyes. “We played video games on the projector.”
She relaxes noticeably, buying the lie.
Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m actually a good liar or if she just wants to believe my bullshit. If she’s too tired to question it.
“Okay. Good. But if you do feel like you’re alone too much, I can quit the bar job. I don’t really even need it. It’s just for some extra spending money. You say the word, and—”
“It’s fine. Really.”
Especially since she definitely does need the bar job.
When she and Dad bought our house five years ago, Mom expected to have two incomes paying off the mortgage.
Now, with my asshole father mostly out of the picture, it is just her job at the bank. And that only goes so far towards the mortgage.
There isn’t much money left for anything else … like heat or water or electricity.
“Are you sure?”
I sigh. “Mom, what teenage boy do you know who wants to spend all of his time with his mom instead of his friends?”
She holds up her hands in surrender. “Fair point. Okay. I just had to check. I’m your mom. It’s my job to worry.”
My father is a constant unspoken presence between us. The few times either of us have dared to speak about him, things don’t go well.
Mostly because Mom wants me to let him back into my life.
“He’s trying,” she always says. “He calls. A lot of dads don’t even do that.”
But I don’t give a shit what “a lot of dads” do or don’t do.
My dad left.
So fuck him forever.
“Don’t you need to get going?” I say, pointing at the clock.
Mom jumps when she realizes the time. She blows me a quick air kiss, and then scurries towards the door. “Hopefully, my car can get me there.”
“Is the check engine light still on?”
“It’s fine,” she says, waving through a small crack in the door. “I’ll get it looked at soon.”
I hate this bullshit. I’m putting my ass on the line—literally—every weekend. To keep my mom safe, happy.
But it’s never enough. Like throwing cash right into a burning fire.
She deserves better than this. One job too many, one husband too few, one life too stressed.
I want to take care of her. And I will—one day.
We just have to keep grinding in the meantime.
And while I work on that, I don’t want a single one of the smug fucks in this town looking down on me or my mom. Pity is the very last thing I want.
Haley’s words ring in my head. You are one of the richest kids at Ravenlake and don’t need the money you win at the fights, so why would you do any of it?
I should have been happy that she bought the lie. That she thought I was rolling in cash and fighting for nothing other than the sheer pleasure of it.
In that moment, I almost told her. Almost spilled everything, the entire truth.
Why? I don’t fucking know why. I don’t care why, either.
Anyway, she helped decide the matter for me.
She kicked me in the nuts and reminded me why she can’t be trusted.
Every time I help Haley Cochran, things go bad. The sooner she is out of my life, the better.
18
Caleb
“Eyes, nose, neck, groin, knee.”
As she speaks, Haley works through the movement associated with the five areas of the human body where you can inflict the most damage with the least effort.
For eyes, she jabs two fingers towards my face, stopping a good half foot away from my face just in case.
Then, she strikes the air in an upward motion with the heel of her palm for my nose.
A sideways chop for the neck, a kick towards the groin, and an angled kick from the side to the kneecap.
By the time she is done, her chest is heaving.
I do my best not to notice. In fact, I spend most of our sessions deliberately not staring at her.
I hate her. I know that—she knows that.
But dammit if my cock isn’t slow to pick up on it.
During our first few lessons she wore cut-off shirts, which gave me glimpses of side boob but kept her cleavage good and covered. That was bad enough.
Now, in our fifth lesson, she is in a pair of high-waisted leggings and a sports bra. Everything is spandex and tight.
I’ve considered asking her to wear sweat suits a la Rocky Balboa, but I can’t figure out how to ask that without revealing my particular weakness for the sight of her skin.
And it is a weakness. One I must do everything in my power to curb.
“How was that?” she asks, tipping her head back to take a drink from her water bottle. Her throat bobs. So vulnerable. So tempting.
Then, it hits me. It’s because I haven’t been pleasured—by myself or anyone else—since the night of the fight. That’s the longest I’ve ever gone without getting my rocks off since puberty started.
So, that must be it. I’m horny, and Haley is simply the female in closest proximity.
My natural instincts are giving a big middle finger to my preferences in women and are taking control of the reins.
I need to rectify this soon. This dry spell is putting dangerous thoughts in my head.
“Caleb?”
I blink, and Haley is looking at me, her brows furrowed in concern. “You kind of disappeared there for a second. Everything okay?”
“Fine.” I tell myself I wasn’t thinking about how the lips she just had pressed against the mouth of the water bottle would look wrapped around my cock instead. “Just tired.”
“We can stop for tonight if you want and pick back up on Monday.”
“Monday? Do you have plans between now and then? Doesn’t seem like anyone at Prep gives a shit about hanging out with you. And you’ve burned all your bridges at Public.”
Haley frowns, a line forming between her dark brows. “No plans, but I figured you had some. Weekends are when guys like you thrive.”
Now, it is my turn to frown. “Guys like me?”
She brings one arm up in a flex, pouts her lips, and puffs out her chest for a second before smiling at her own joke. “Popular, attractive guys who like to woo the ladies.”
Her smile is so easy. So unhindered. There doesn’t seem to be anything behind it. Nothing it is covering.
Most women have serious ulterior motives when they smile at me. Most of those motives involve the reputation boost that comes along with sleeping with a Golden Boy.
Usually, I don’t mind one bit. After all, my only motive is to fuck them and move on to the next, so it works best if there is no emotional attachment.
Still, something about Haley’s genuine smile feels refreshing.
I widen my stance to try and ease the sudden tightness between
my legs. “You think I ‘woo’ ladies?”
She rolls her eyes and her tongue darts out to lick a bit of water from the corner of her mouth. “God, I thought your strutting around was annoying, but false modesty does not look good on you.”
“Fine,” I shrug. “I woo ladies. But you underestimate me if you think I can’t train you and still have time to do some wooing.”
“We should stop using that word.”
I nod in agreement. “I’ll still have time to fuck willing girls into oblivion even if we train tomorrow. Is that better?”
She sticks out her tongue in disgust and then takes another drink from her water bottle before setting it on the coffee table. “Even Saturday? Won’t you be tired from the fights?”
I actually forgot about the fight. Which hasn’t happened in longer than I can remember.
For a few years now, the Saturday night fight has always been in the back of my mind. Now that it’s not…
“I’m not going to fight this weekend.”
“You’re not?” Haley looks at me with wide eyes. “How long has it been since you’ve taken a week off?”
I shrug like it doesn’t matter. “It’s not like it’s my job. There are plenty of people who can fill my spot.”
“You treat it like a job, though.”
My head snaps up at that. “What does that mean?”
Haley seemed to believe I was rich just the other day, and it made me angry enough that I wanted to tell her the truth—I wanted to let her know she didn’t know nearly as much as she thought she did.
Now, at the tiniest sign that she might actually know the truth, the rage is there again, rearing its head.
She tucks a curly lock of hair behind her ear nervously. “Nothing. Just that you show up every week, and it’s obviously important enough to you that you want to keep it secret from the people in your life. If it was just a hobby, I assume you would have told me to fuck off when I tried to blackmail you … but you didn’t.”
“Wanting to keep something private doesn’t mean I’m hiding something.”
“Actually,” she says, eyebrow arching, “that’s exactly what it means.”
“I don’t broadcast it to the world every time I take a shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m hiding something. It just isn’t anyone’s business.” I shrug. “Private.”
Haley wrinkles her nose. “Gross. Fighting is a choice, not a biological requirement. I just wonder what has led you to pick it.”
I tip my head back and sigh. This girl doesn’t know when to keep her nose out of my business.
When I look at her again, she is studying me, her bright blue eyes tracking my every move.
“Just like I wonder why you think you’re entitled to know anything about me.”
“Even without you saying anything, I’ve gathered a lot of information.”
I tip my head to the side and take a slow step towards her. “Like?”
Haley’s plump mouth quirks up on one side in thought. “Well, you’re not nearly as charming as you appear.”
I take another step and press a hand to my chest, face twisted in mock pain. “You wound me.”
“I mean,” she clarifies with a sigh, “that your charm is an act. It’s a way to make people comfortable around you.”
“How do you know it isn’t real?” I ask, still moving towards her, covering the ten-foot distance between us in easy, casual steps.
“Charming people can’t turn it off. You can.” She lowers her head and looks up at me from beneath her brows. “You aren’t at all charming with me.”
“Because I don’t like you.”
“That’s something else I’ve gathered,” she continues, holding up a finger. “You are prideful. Extremely so. You take slights very personally and don’t forgive easily.”
I sway slightly as I walk, giving the appearance that I’m not really thinking about my movements—even though my target is locked in my sights.
“I wouldn’t call you lying about me and then me getting jumped by your biker ex-boyfriend and his friends a ‘slight,’ so much as I would call it a cowardly ambush by pussies who would never dare square up with me like men.”
Haley’s eyes flicker open a bit wider at the venom in my voice.
But she still isn’t ready for what’s coming.
One of her legs is kicked out to the side, her opposite hip popping out with a hand resting on it. She is relaxed and leisurely, even when in the face of a predator.
She clearly didn’t take our first lesson to heart the way she should have.
It’s about to cost her.
“Fair,” she says a bit guiltily. “But if you’re saying—”
Before she can even finish, I take the last step to close the distance.
Then I lunge.
My right foot swipes at the ankle of the leg she has propped out to the side and pulls, forcing her off balance. Haley yelps and leans back on her other leg to save herself, but I grab one of her arms and twist.
Like the move was choreographed, she twirls on one foot, and then her back is against my front, her arm pinned between us.
I wrap my other arm around her middle, trapping her arm at her side, and bring my lips to her ear.
“I’m saying that your mouth is writing checks your body can’t cash, Haley Cochran,” I whisper. “This is your last warning to rein it in. Next time, I won’t be this gentle.”
It’s a good lesson in always being aware of your surroundings. In not letting your guard down, even when your opponent doesn’t seem to be a threat.
I realize suddenly how angry I am. The memory of Bumper and his idiot goons assaulting me from the shadows, jumping me like cowards, knowing they’d never stand a chance in a fair fight… it gets my blood boiling.
I realize also that Haley is trembling in my grasp.
It’s not a shiver, but a full-body, uncontrollable shaking. So violent that I almost think she might be having a seizure.
I let go of her arm and spin her around. The moment her eyes land on mine, she blinks and shakes her head, trying to smile. The attempt is feeble. Her distress is obvious.
“Don’t cry,” I bark.
“I’m fine.” Her voice is high-pitched and shaky, and she tucks her hands behind her back to hide the trembling. Her entire body is tight as a bowstring.
She can lie all she wants. It’s obvious that she is terrified.
“Yeah, you look fine,” I say sarcastically.
“I am,” she insists with a false laugh. “I’m okay. You just surprised me and … I need to get going. I should get home and—”
She starts moving towards the door—leaving behind her phone, house keys, and tennis shoes by the couch.
I step in front of her to block her path, keeping my distance.
“You’re not leaving.”
“You can’t keep me here, John—” Her eyes go wide, and she shakes her head. “Caleb. God. See? I’m exhausted. I should go.”
“I’m not anything like John.” I meant the words to be comforting, but they come out in a growl.
Haley drops her face into her hands. “I didn’t mean that. Seriously. I’m fine. Please, let’s just—”
“What the fuck are you doing saying his name in this house anyways?”
Haley lifts her eyes to mine, and they are pleading. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
My hands clench into fists. It takes serious effort to uncurl them.
She doesn’t have to say it out loud for me to get what she’s thinking—that I’m just like her piece of shit ex. That I use violence to solve my problems. To intimidate her into silence.
Fuck that. I’m nothing like him. He’s nothing like me.
She needs to get that straight.
I hold up my hands in surrender and step away. “Fine, don’t talk. But you still can’t leave.”
“I can’t?” The fear in her eyes hardens, morphing into anger. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
&nb
sp; “Why?” she asks again, firing the word like a bullet.
“Because I’m trying to help you!”
“Why?”
She is shouting at me now. The trembling girl from a few minutes ago is gone.
Haley is moving towards me, blue eyes narrowed, jaw set in a hard line. It’s not exactly terrifying, but there is a small stirring deep in my stomach.
A flutter of acknowledgment that this fire inside of her is very, very hot.
When I don’t answer, she keeps yelling. “You said this was blackmail, right? That I forced you into this arrangement? That means you should be happy to see me go! You’ve been trying to bully me from day one, so why do you suddenly care whether or not I’m afraid of you? Why do you want to help?”
She makes a compelling argument, even if I hate to admit it.
I should be thrilled Haley wants to cut this lesson short. I want to get through these training sessions as quickly as possible and be done with her.
So why am I arguing with her about this?
When I don’t answer right away, Haley spins around to grab the stuff she’d forgotten about on the floor and then starts walking towards the door, shaking her head as she goes.
I should let her go. If she wants to be afraid of me, I should encourage it.
Except, as she passes by me, I can’t let her go.
Not like this.
I wrap my hand around her arm and hold her in place. She flinches and turns to me. Her jaw is still set, but the fear is alive in her eyes again.
It’s an ingrained response, a behavior learned after too many traumatic experiences with men. In a fight, it could be the deciding factor between her keeping a clear head and escaping or freezing up and becoming a victim.
And I can’t stand the fact that she has that response to me.
“I can’t let you leave because you’re looking at me like I might hit you at any second.” I let go of her arm, but neither of us moves. “I’m not a nice guy. I’m an asshole most of the time, and I’m a fighter. But I don’t hurt innocent people. I don’t have to like you. But that doesn’t mean I want to hurt you, either.”
Haley takes a deep breath, her chest heaving.
I realize all at once how close we are. Mere inches separate our bodies.
