Brock
“Shit,” I muttered to myself.
“What the fuck is this?” Steele said, his voice growing louder with every word. “Actually you know what, I know what the fuck this is. Why the fuck am I seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Steele—”
“No, shut the fuck up, you cheating whore.”
“Cheating?” Tara shouted. “Steele, we’re—”
But Steele had long moved past Tara. He was coming right for me. And he was not coming to chest bump me.
The first punch came when he lunged forward with his left fist. I barely dodged it, but his right one caught me on the side of the face. I didn’t want to fight back; I didn’t want to turn this into something ugly, but I was not a guy that turned the other cheek. If I did, it was only so I could wind up my other fist.
“Guys, stop!”
But neither of us were paying any attention to what Tara was saying. I had swung my first punch and hit Steele on the forehead, and now we were brawling at full force, grabbing at each other’s shirts and trying to beat the shit out of each other.
“Stop!”
I landed a powerful right hook to his face that staggered him back, but he just ran right at me, tackled me, and knocked me to the floor, my head missing the back of one of the kitchen table legs by inches.
“You fucking two-faced bastard!” Steele said. “I knew you always wanted to fuck her!”
I bucked him off me and threw a punch that missed. I used the chance to stand up, and we had some space.
“She was never yours to begin with!” I said. “It’s not my fault you were a shitty boyfriend.”
“Fine, but then you take her for yourself? Real fucking cold, Brock, real fucking cold.”
“Would you twopleasestop?”
By now, Tara’s voice sounded like it was on the verge of tears. But the anger between the two of us was too strong to be contained. The only way for the fight to stop was for there to be a clear winner.
Steele charged to tackle me, but I was better prepared this time. I dropped my weight onto his head, knocking him to the ground. I delivered a hard kick to his head that left him covering his ear. He stayed on the ground for several seconds, and again, I backed off.
Steele rose, growling. He was woozy, but he looked far from finished.
“You were my best friend,” he said. “And you stole my girl, knowing full well that I was going to get her back.”
“Enough!”
Tara came between the two of us, holding her arms out like someone directing traffic. I didn’t dare defy her physical presence, and as pissed off as Steele was, I knew he wouldn’t either.
“Goddamnit, Steele, I don’t know how many fucking times I have to tell you, I am not getting back with you!” she said. “I am not ‘your girl.’ You are not ‘going to get me back.’ You tried at Reapers, and while I appreciate the courage, it will not happen. And no, I did not cheat on you. I never fucking cheated on you. Never.”
“Then what the fuck were those late-night porch talks with Brock about?”
“They were trying to understand you better so we could be a better couple.”
Steele and I went silent.
“I broke up with you because you wouldn’t grow up, but that didn’t mean I didn’t hope you could,” Tara said. “I gave you far longer than I probably should have, Steele. I wanted us to work. But…”
She looked at me.
“I see how you all look at him,” she said. “You know he’s the leader of your group. Why? Because he’s got his shit together. You—”
