Page 14 of Carry On

Always the realist. I sighed and forced myself to sit up. Lying down wouldn’t do me any good.

“He’s not dead!” the kid exclaimed. Like any of them thought I was. It was just an excuse to be a dick to me.

Unfortunately, this was the kind of game I had to play carefully. There were three of them and one of me. Could I take them? Absolutely. But I didn’t want to have to. The endgame could land me in prison, while their behavior was swept under the rug because they had money to their name.

“I don’t want any trouble. I’m just trying to sleep,” I said. I wasn’t in the mood for their shit.

“Sleep?” another scoffed. “Isn’t that what you’ve got a home for?”

The comment made the others laugh, and I did my best to swallow my anger.

But they have a point,the voice stated.

I fucking knew that. I didn’t need anyone walking around and reminding me of that shit. The worst of it was that I had to play nice. Had to appeal to them.

Usually, kids like them grew bored quickly, especially if I didn’t rise to the occasion.

Yes, because you’re so good at that,the voice commented.

It wasn’t my strong suit and a big part of why I just avoided everyone I could.

“Like I said, I don’t want any trouble,” I repeated and hoped to hell it was enough to appease them. “I’ll just grab my stuff and be on my way.”

As I went for my guitar case, one of them grabbed it.

“Don’t touch,” I growled. I reached for it again, only for the guy to back up. He tossed it to his friend while they laughed, and I felt my stomach drop. If they broke my guitar, I was fucked. I didn’t have the money to replace it, and it was the only way I had to make a few bucks every day. And that didn’t begin to touch the sentimental value the guitar had. I snapped, “Put it down.”

“Oh, come on, buddy!” The first guy stepped up close, and I could smell the alcohol on him. Who didn’t love drunk rich kids? “We’re all just friends here, right?”

“Right.” I resisted rolling my eyes. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I was done playing by their rules. It wouldn’t get me anywhere. “Give my guitar back, and walk away. Let’s not do anything stupid.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” he demanded.

Yes, yes, I fucking was.

“No, I’m telling you to give my guitar back and to get out of my face,” I said, not mincing my words. I flexed my fingers, curling and uncurling my fists. The anger coursing through me shifted, turning into an energy that needed to be contained.

Or released, the voice offered.Three against one? Who knows? Maybe they’ll do what you can’t.

Well, there was that. But I wasn’t aiming to get my ass kicked by a bunch of drunk rich kids.

“You know, I don’t think I will,” he replied. He reached into his coat and took out his wallet. “I think I’m going to keep it. It’s not like you need it. You can get a job, right?”

Taking a couple of bucks out of his wallet, he tucked them into the breast pocket of my jacket and patted my chest—a little too fucking hard. Hell, it could’ve been considered a shove.

“That should cover it.” He smirked.

And then, like the moron I was, I punched him.

CHAPTER 12

LINCOLN

Thedopaminerushofa single kiss had me spiraling out of control. I panic-paced through my living room as I ran my thumb over my lips, the taste of him lingering. My heart pounded erratically in my chest, and I did my best to get myself under control.

But I couldn’t.

Every part of me wanted to storm right back out of the house—to chase him down and see how far it’d go between us. I wanted so much more than just a single kiss. I wantedhim.My entire body vibrated with an insatiable need for him.