“So I’ll see you Friday?” She flashed him a sexy smile, and it took most of his self-control to not kiss her then. He’s got to cool off, though. He wouldn’t want to scare Tiff off.
So he flashed a smile, too, feeling satisfied when her eyes twinkle. “I’ll be there,” he said, with firmness that made her giggle. She squeezed his hand, gave him that girly finger-wave thing girls did, then left him wanting to shove her against a wall then –
Um, PG-13?
He couldn’t wait for Friday, though.
A rough hand then pushed him into a wall and pain blossomed in his right shoulder. When he looked at the shover in question, he got another hit to the other shoulder then met Alec’s inky blue eyes.
Alec’s angry inky blue eyes.
“What the hell, Shane?” he half-yelled. His voice carried, making other people look at them. Shane wished they wouldn’t.
“That was Tiff you were mind-fucking literally five seconds ago!”
“Profanity, Alec,” he tutted, trying to ease the tension. “Not in school.”
“Shut the fuck up, okay?! You had no right to –”
“To do what? To have a girl like me? To take her out? I don’t think you get that she broke up with you five fucking months ago, asshole. Get used to it.” That probably was not the best thing to say to someone whose temper was as hot as Tiff.
Before he could think that he was sorry, Alec knocked him out cold.
***
“Hey Shane, I heard that Alec – oh.” Tiff stopped a little ways from him, sucking a breath through her teeth. “You look awful.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled sourly, wincing as the ice water dribbled over his hurt eye. “It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like it to me, Shane.” One, two, three… “Look, Shane, we got to talk.”
YOU ARE READING
The Piano Player
Ficção AdolescenteSome people were born into lives that seem to be written by boy band-obsessed fan girls, or introverted poets, or dreamers that never stop floating into the clouds. With lives full of conflict and interest and changes, they just simply made chameleo...
