Bad Boys

f o r t y f o u r ~ Mine

I look over at Bash, keeping my expression flat. He looks back at me with interest, waiting for the answer to his question.

"I don't know," I answer, my voice running dry.

"Come on, Kyle, you've got a built in radar for the chick. Where's Kayla?" This time I shrug.

"I don't know."

"So she's with Dominic?" My fingers curl against my palm and I have to force my jaw open to speak.

"I don't know. I don't know where she is every goddamn second of every day. I'm not her fucking keeper." Even I can hear the tension in the words.

Bash smirks. "So Dominic's screwing her in our backseat?"

I launch myself up out of the dirt and storm over to Bash, who doesn't shift out of his casual leaning against the underside of the bleachers. He just continues to smirk. "She's not screwing anybody," I growl.

"No? Well I guess that's true for you ain't it?"

My fist shakes with the effort of holding it back. "Caught up in high school drama? I thought you deemed yourself above this shit."

He shrugs. "Girls talk. Not that you would know that now though."

My jaw clicks but I keep my mouth shut. Bash grins at me. "What's your problem, Bash?"

"I haven't got one. You do." He jerks his chin out at me.

"What is this? The third grade?"

"You're acting like a coward so yeah, I guess so." I step forward, my fist raising itself halfway. "I'd have to be pretty fucking stupid to think I had any sort of shot with her. Hell, Kayla is the greatest thing we got going for us. And you're the only one with a real shot. That girl thinks you're made of stars. And you're sitting here, refusing to do a thing about it."

"The hell do you know?" I growl. Bash shakes his head at me.

"I'm not blind, Kyle. You walk in a room and she instantly relaxes, something pulls her towards you. Even when she's mad at you. She destroys herself watching you flirt with other girls. Do you have any idea the things she has done for you? Do you remember half of it? She has dragged your drunk to bed more times than I can count. She puts up with your shit. And she keeps running back to you. I'm not smart. I'm actually pretty stupid, but even I know at some point she's got to hit her breaking point. At some point she's not coming back."

"What are you? My shrink?" I retort, backing away from him.

Bash chuckles. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm your shrink."

"Well you can go screw yourself."

Bash looks at me, the corner of his lip quirking up. "Figured you'd say that." Then he turns and leaves the bleachers. I roll my eyes at his retreating form and slump back down into my seat in the dirt. My fingers tap restlessly against my jeans and I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek. I shove a hand into the pocket of my leather jacket where I used to keep my cigs, and I curse myself as my fingers close around air and fabric. I reach in my other pocket and pull out a pack of spearmint gum. My fingers unwrap a piece mindlessly. I toss it into my mouth. Then I crumple up the paper and drop it to the dirt. I shove the pack back into my pocket and tilt my head back against some of the metal.

Something clangs against the metal in front of me and I whip my head forward. I spit the gum out quickly, kicking some dirt over it. Kayla stands at the edge of the bleachers, her knuckles white against the strap of her backpack. She looks at me with wide eyes. Then she swallows harshly and her expression falls blank. I stand up and shove my hands into my pockets.