Page 25

Oscar tries not to laugh. Brawler tenses. No one gets to say anything, though, because the phone rings in my hand. I stare at the palm-sized piece of technology, reading the screen. Johnny Rocket scrawls across the screen.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl at the privacy violation. I stare at Brawler who looks unapologetically back at me.
“You better answer it,” Oscar says, nodding toward the incessantly ringing device.
I swipe the screen, turn away from the two assholes in my apartment, and bring the phone to my ear. “Yeah?”
There’s a beat of silence. “Kyla?”
“It’s me,” I say, not attempting to hide my displeasure.
“Did something happen?” he questions. The fact that he’s being nice, almost concerned, is comical to me. Then, it pisses me off.
“Yeah, there are two guys in my apartment. One of them took my phone without asking and put your name and number into it.”
“Oh, I told them to,” Rocket says nonchalantly.
I try to picture what he’s doing on the other side of the line. Me going off about the misuse of my privacy doesn’t seem to have bothered him a bit. He’s very cut and dry, black and white. It doesn’t bother him because he expects his orders to be carried out and for the person on the other side not to give a shit.
“I’m glad we officially met tonight,” he says, his voice lowering.
I almost pull the phone away from my ear to make sure it’s still Rocket on the other side of the line. This guy is a wooer. A ladies’ man. He’s suave and cool and used to getting everything he wants, women included. And he’s certainly clueless to the fact that I’m seething on this side of the line.
I bite my lip, reigning my temper in. “It was better than the other way we met.”
Rocket chuckles and then he’s silent for a few sick moments. I can’t tell whether he’s thinking about getting head from the administration lady again. Or if he’s thinking about getting head from me.
“I have so many plans for you,” Rocket says, voice husky. “Meet me after school tomorrow. We need to discuss shit.”
My first instinct is to tell him to get fucked, but I can’t say that. “Okay… Where?”
“I’ll come get you. Goodnight, Kyla.”
He ends the call before I can say good night back. I take the phone away from my ear and stare at it.I have so many plans for you. His voice rings in my ear. My stomach tightens, wondering what that means. It could have a million different meanings.
“Everything okay?” Brawler asks.
I turn toward them. Oscar’s expression is guarded, but Brawler’s eyebrows are pulled together in a tight line of concern.
I straighten my shoulders. “Yeah. Good. Fine.”
Oscar’s phone goes off with a quick shrill. A second later, Brawler’s goes off. They both pull their phones out of their pockets and stare at the screen. Brawler’s brows arch as he reads. When Oscar’s finished, he slips the phone back into his pocket and gives a mock salute. “I’m out. See you at school.”
He takes off, and I expect Brawler to follow him, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a seat in the armchair. It’s almost one a.m., so it’s not like I want to stick around and have a chat with him. When he notices me staring at him, he says, “I have orders to stay with you tonight.”
“Orders? I thought you weren’t part of the Heights Crew. How can you take orders?”
Brawler leans back to engage the footrest then puts his arms behind his head like he’s settling in for the night. He even has the audacity to close his eyes. “I live closest to you, so it makes sense.” He opens one eye. “Plus, he’s paying me.”
Disappointment fills me. I guess he isn’t the nice guy I had him pegged as. Everyone can be bought.
“Can you ask Rocket about training with me?”
“No.”
“Why?” I snap back.
“You ask him.”