"Fox, Tommy said my two dads are unnatural and I'm not their daughter. He's wrong, right?"
"Tommy's brain is a pea. Of course he's fucking wrong."
"Fox! No cussing! Ms. Hickens is gonna—"
"Want me to punch Tommy at recess?"
"..."
"..."
"Yes, please."
"You got it."
ᖴO᙭
The TV flickers. Static. I flip through the channels, nothing sticks.
The rain's a fucking downpour against the building, especially this high up. It's summer rain. The kind that drowns sidewalks, and makes roads slick, and in movies, it's the kind that idiots dance in.
But here, it just makes the air humid.
Charlie's curled up on the couch next to me, waiting for Cam to get home. My eyes drift to the gloves hanging by the door. Still steaming. Cam pushed me through a brutal session less than an hour ago, but stayed back to help Xavier or Jess or someone else, I don't know. My knuckles still feel raw.
It's not enough.
It hasn't been enough for a while now. Punching, hitting, fighting—it used to quiet the noise in my head. But now, it just sits on top of noise.
I shift on the couch, raking a hand through my damp hair, trying to get comfortable. I don't remember what comfort feels like. But Charlie does. Oh, to live a dog's life.
Two months until med school. Then it's goodbye to all this. No more punching bags, no more gloves, no more running from what's breathing down my neck. Doctors don't get to punch their way out. No, I'll be standing still for the first time in a while. The pressure feels like a fucking iron pressing into my spine.
Charlie sighs, jerking in his sleep. Dreaming. I test what Chris did that afternoon and lay a hand on his back. He settles.
That voice—it's always there. The one that whispers I'm not enough. Faro kept us together when our mother walked out. Gwen learned how to thrive on her own. She's probably getting arrested right now, but hell, even that takes guts. At least she knows who she is.
I've been playing dress-up. Fighter. Doctor. Friend. I'm none of it.
No one cheats on someone with a good backbone. No one abandons someone with a spine.
I grind my teeth, feeling my fists twitch in my lap. What I need is a release. If I could clear my head for just one minute, maybe I'd figure it out.
And that's where Chris comes in.
She's been dancing around me for days. Jumpy, skittish, all tight and wound up like she might crack. She wants me; I see it written all over her pretty, doe-eyed face. I can give her what she's aching for.
It's not about her; it's about what we could get from it. The distraction. The release. She'd unwind if I got her alone. I'd make her forget whatever's got her twisted up. I'm good at it. She'd enjoy it. I'd enjoy it.
I grin to myself. Hell, if I'm being honest, I'd really enjoy it.
A rush of rain spatters the balcony windows. Christ. There might be a flood warning on the way.
YOU ARE READING
Beside
Romance''Tell me how it feels,'' he whispers. "Good," I gasp, my entire body trembling. Deeper. Harder. Perfect -- like we've been doing this for years. His hand finds my jaw, fingers firm as he tilts my head up, making me look at him. And that's it. Wav...
